Thursday, October 31, 2019

Whatever Happened to Baby Jane? (1962)

Whatever Happened to Baby Jane? (Robert Aldrich, 1962) As if Sunset Blvd wasn't perverse enough, Robert Aldrich took the 1960 novel by Harry Farrell and turned it into the Grandest of Guignol's about the passing of Hollywood glamour with two of the greatest stars of the past pitted against each other in a battle for screen supremacy. Reportedly, the filming was contentious as both Bette Davis and Joan Crawford despised each other and didn't care who knew it. That vehemence inspired two very overheated performances that reached deep into both ladies' bags of tricks—Davis' over the top Jane, and Crawford's long-suffering Blanche. Whatever one may think of the picture, no one can't resist looking at a train-wreck...in the middle of a cage-match. And director Aldrich, who could be counted on to make his own fireworks when he needed to, merely had to turn on the camera and watch the material boil over.

And, on occasion, keep it from exploding.

Cautionary placard for ticket-buyers of Whatever Happened to Baby Jane?
The Hudson family is riding a financial success in 1917, as their daughter "Baby Jane" is a beloved silent film star and doing stage appearances to promote her marketable likeness in the "Baby Jane" doll. America's little sweetheart, however, is, away from the spotlight, a spoiled-rotten brat who dominates the family who give in to her every whim and tantrum to keep the money coming in. Her sister Blanche can only look on and seethe in jealousy.
Cut to 1935. Both Blanche and Jane are appearing in films now, although Blanche's fortunes have eclipsed Jane's and the older film star is drinking to drown her sorrows. But a deliberate auto accident by one against the other reverses all fortunes.
It's modern times (1962) and both sisters live in a Los Angeles mansion in Los Angeles, Blanche (Crawford), confined to a wheelchair from the car accident, watching her old movies on television and reliving her past. Jane (Davis), meanwhile, is still drinking heavily, bitter, and delusional enough that she's teetering on the edge of a psychotic split. Jane is Blanche's "caretaker," with as opposite a definition of "care" as possible. It being 1962, movies didn't show everything involved in caring for a paraplegic, so it's limited to Jane's preparing and bringing of meals. But, in Jane's resentful state, what she uses for protein becomes more than questionable.
What she doesn't make for Blanche is pancakes, presumably because that is what she seems to be using for make-up.
Jane dresses up in woman-sized girly dresses and cakes on the foundation in an attempt to look younger* and acts like a coquettish child while interacting with strangers, but, once you get to know her, she turns into a harridan, dropping the act. Her viciousness is no act, however, and it's escalating, the further she gets away from her fabled childhood and her own dreams of Hollywood success. But Jane is used to getting her way, combined with a twisted guilt for her sister's paralysis, as she was black-out drunk when the crippling accident occurred. 
While Blanche is basically confined to the upstairs, Jane has the run of the house and takes delight in taking any joy she can from Blanche's existence. It is merely the presence of a housekeeper (Maidie Norman) that keeps Jane's more extreme activities in check, and she is beginning to resent it.

It's a battle for control between the two sisters, with Blanche seemingly at the disadvantage. But, she has control of the house, and when she announces to Jane that she intends to sell it, Jane ramps up the abuse, locking Blanche in her room, tossing out her mail and restricting access to the outside world by means of disabling their telephone. Particularly venomous are Jane's manipulation of her sister's meals, at one point using her pet parakeet as an entree, while at the same time living under the illusion that she can revive her career with personal appearances.

But, the public has long forgotten Baby Jane.

Blanche, on the other hand, defends her sister, no matter what cruelty is inflicted on her. Her long-suffering victim-hood has its own deep origins in that accident in ways that are not obvious on the outside.
It is an extraordinary, squirm-inducing example of bat-shit-crazy film-making, with an extra level of cruelty than the usual hard edge Aldrich put on his films as the two sisters have a battle of wills that almost guarantees mutually assure destruction. It has a sardonic nastiness reminiscent of Edward Albee's "Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?"

It would almost be unwatchable if it weren't for the two actors involved in the struggle (which spilled over to their antics against each other on-set). The casting is key with Davis and Crawford in opposite corners, diametrically opposed in both technique and performance goals, with Crawford falling back on her woman-martyr characterizations and Davis careening in the opposite direction going for manic intensity. Given how the film plays out, it shouldn't work, but both actresses can't help give it their all for screen-domination. It is one of the miracles of casting that couldn't be more ideal.

"We're getting along. Really, we are."
Although she seemed far more stable, there are rumors than "Baby Jane Hudson" was based on 
Diana Serra Carey, who starred in silent pictures as "Baby Peggy"

* When Davis' daughter saw her "Baby Jane" make-up, she reportedly said: "Oh, Mother, you've gone too far this time!"

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