Movie Review: "Whatever Happened To Baby Jane?" (1962)
Halloween Horror Marathon Movie #16
So, my husband and I moved to the Palm Springs area, last year, which is known for being both mid-century obsessed and super gay. Statues of Marilyn Monroe and Lucille Ball are scattered around the downtown area, which boasts a local star-studded Walk of Fame. Streets are named for Bob Hope, Frank Sinatra, and Dinah Shore. Sputnik lamps and mod furniture abound.
You can’t spit in Palm Springs without hitting a handpainted Joan Crawford tchotchke or kaftan, which inspired me to revisit some of the classics - camp and otherwise - that are so beloved in our new home. Directed by Robert Aldrich (“The Dirty Dozen”) with a screenplay from Lukas Heller (“Hush…Hush, Sweet Charlotte”), this is the film that asks the question, “What if “Gypsy” were a horror movie?”
Young “Baby Jane” Hudson is a child vaudeville star, coddled and enabled by her parents to be a haughty, cruel, self-interested diva. Jane’s older sister, Blanche, is demure and treated poorly by her family. (So, basically, the set-up of “Gypsy.”)
Many years later, the tables have turned, with Blanche now an acclaimed screen actress and Jane, a washed-up alcoholic has-been. Blanche insists on small parts for her sister in her successful films, but that all comes to a screeching halt when Blanche is paralyzed in a mysterious car accident attributed to an inebrieated Jane.
After this long runway, we finally meet adult Blanche (Crawford) and adult Jane (Davis). Confined to a wheelchair, Blanche depends on her sister for everything… which is unfortunate, because Jane is out of her mind. Often drunk, and pathetically trying to relive her heyday, Jane torments and abuses Blanche at every opportunity.
When Jane discovers that Blanche plans to sell the house and have her institutionalized, she snaps like a dry twig. Blanche’s isolation increases, and Jane starts racking up a body count as she circles the drain with alarming alacrity.
Though the movie starts out slow, it picks up a head of steam quickly after the arrival of Davis and Crawford. They famously had a lot of friction working together, and that absolutely shows up on screen. Crawford oozes pathos, and I really felt terrible for her character. Davis puts in one of the weirdest, scariest, most bonkers performances I’ve ever seen, in her clown-white face paint and fraying ringlets. Having recently seen Davis in later horror films, “Burnt Offerings” (1976) and “The Watcher in the Woods,” (1980), it’s wild to see her here as the horror itself. She. Is. Terrifying. Davis honestly made me physically uncomfortable in places. So good. A wonderful twist at the end that is so shocking, you don’t really have a chance to digest it before the credits are rolling.
Overall, the film is rightly best remembered for the Davis/Crawford dynamic, and - while it takes a while to get going - the scenery-feasting is definitely worth taking in at least once.
Currently streaming with ads on Tubi.