Review #1,324: 'The Dark Mirror' (1946)

There were few directors so suited to the film noir genre as Robert Siodmak, whose lengthy career produced everything from B-movie horrors (Son of Dracula) to exotic adventures (Cobra Woman) and forgotten westerns (Pyramid of the Sun God). However, he is best remembered for his work in the noir genre, which spawned tough, pretension-free crime dramas such as Phantom Lady, Cry of the City and Criss Cross. His movies often employed a kind of gimmick as a hook, with his finest film The Killers jumping back and forth in time to keep the audience guessing. One of Siodmak's lesser-known pulpy efforts, The Dark Mirror, leaned towards psychoanalysis as well as the more familiar sleuthing from a craggy-faced, weather-beaten detective. The advancements in mental health studies was all the rage with many screenwriters during the 1940s, and although much of what is said is utter nonsense, it helps give this lively noir a refreshing edge.

Quick-witted detective Lt. Stevenson (Thomas Mitchell) takes on the case of Dr. Frank Peralta, who is found dead in his apartment with a knife in his back. Investigations advance quickly, and after interviewing various witnesses, all the clues points to one woman alone: Peralta's lover Terry Collins (Olivia de Havilland). Many saw her leave the scene shortly after a loud thud was heard from the apartment, and the doctor's appointment book confirms a rendez-vous with the attractive young lady at the time of the murder. Yet when Stevenson corners Terry at her work after various witnesses make a positive identification, she has an alibi that cannot be disputed. Utterly perplexed at the mystery, the veteran dick visits her home to pose a few more questions, only to discover that Terry has, as you probably would have guessed by this point, and identical twin sister, named Ruth. One committed the crime and the other is innocent, but both exercise their right to keep their trap shut to avoid incriminating themselves.

Refusing to believe in such a thing as 'the perfect crime', Stevenson brings in Scott Elliott (Lew Ayres), a doctor who frequently encountered both women at their place of work, and who also happens to be an expert in the study of twins. The Dark Mirror doesn't convince when it comes to psychologically evaluating the sisters, but if you can suspend your disbelief and roll with the film's coincidence-reliant plot, this is one of the most engaging noirs the genre has to offer. It's also helped a great deal by the central performance of de Havilland, who takes great delight in playing with the siblings' differing personalities. Their interactions are made even more delightful thanks to some seamless visual effects. The use of clever split-screens make it seem that two different actresses are indeed speaking to one another, putting efforts to recreate the effect as recent as the 1990s completely to shame. There a noticeable tonal issues, particularly with some musical choices heard after Stevenson's wisecracks which grate with the film's darker moments, but The Dark Mirror is yet another of Siodmak's quirky noirs deserving of more recognition.


Directed by: Robert Siodmak
Starring: Olivia de Havilland, Lew Ayres, Thomas Mitchell, Richard Long, Charles Evans
Country: USA

Rating: ****

Tom Gillespie

Review #43: 'Hush...Hush, Sweet Charlotte' (1964)

In 1962, when the careers of acting heavyweights such as Bette Davis, Joan Crawford and Olivia De Havilland were beginning to subside as the years took their toll, director Robert Aldrich directed Whatever Happened To Baby Jane?, a story of sibling jealousy and sadism that saw Davis and Crawford go head to head. The film was notorious not only for it's brilliance, but for it's genuine rivalry between the film's two leads. The film was a success, and unwittingly gave birth to a new genre that has since become known as 'hagspolitation' or 'psycho-biddy thrillers', a splurge of films that usually portrayed a psychotic older woman played by a 1940-50's superstar. Davis and Crawford were the key players in the sub-genre, and they were both cast by Altman in his next film, Hush... Hush, Sweet Charlotte, only for Crawford to drop out due to 'illness', when in reality it was because she just couldn't take Davis' bullying and general nasty behaviour. She was replaced by De Havilland, and although the film doesn't come near to capturing the greatness of Baby Jane, it is still a nice little shocker.

Beginning with a shocking murder that sees a married man who is having an affair with Charlotte (Davis) have his arm and head hacked off with a huge cleaver, the film jumps forward four decades, where the ageing Charlotte lives alone in her giant mansion that is being torn down by city developers. Haunted by the murder of her former lover (for which she may or may not have been the culprit), Charlotte is losing her mind when her cousin Miriam (De Havilland) comes to stay to try and convince her to leave before she is arrested by the developers for failing to leave her home. What follows is Charlotte's fast decent into insanity, but is she being played and manipulated by people after her vast fortune?

The film is a solid horror film with some genuine shocks and extreme gore for its day. Of course, the ever-reliable Bette Davis is superb as the squeaky-voice southern gal seemingly with the mind of an infant. Although the film works well as both a Southern gothic horror and as a thriller, the film doesn't have the intensity to last out the 2 hours and 15 minute running time and slightly outstays his welcome. But their is solid support from Joseph Cotten, an actor who has never been recognised enough for his excellent body of work, and Agnes Moorehead, another main player in the genre.


Directed by: Robert Aldrich
Starring: Bette Davis, Olivia De Havilland, Joseph Cotten, Agnes Moorehead
Country: USA

Rating: ****

Tom Gillespie