Retrospective reviews have continued to hold the film in high regard, with Carlos Clarens calling it ” the best and most unusual” horror film of 1944 in his book An Illustrated History of the Horror Film.
“ The supernatural is dealt with seriously in this dynamic, suspenseful melodrama, chock full of fine acting that will hold audiences glued to their seats for its entire 93 minutes…
Once in, they’ll like it, but getting audiences into the seats to stay “glued” there was less than a dead cert due to the film’s “unusual and controversial subject.” — Review from the 5 January 1944 issue of Variety.In his review of The Uninvited for The New York Times, Bosley Crowther remarked that while the film features a “glaring confusion in the wherefore and why of what goes on,” it effectively showcases the talents of its cast, particularly noting that Ray Milland and Ruth Hussey “do nicely as the couple who get themselves involved” and praising Gail Russell as “wistful and gracious” in her role.”
Paramount’s The Uninvited 1944, MGM’s The Haunting 1963, and Twentieth Century Fox’s The Innocents 1961 stand as the finest examples of achievements in the realm of sophisticated supernatural cinema to come out of Hollywood in the forties. Horror in the 1940s were overwhelmingly monster movies, considering Universal’s trend, which was characterized by a blend of classic literary monsters and folktales and their more modern reinterpretations, such as Dracula, Frankenstein, and werewolves. The Gothic ghost story has had quite a resurgence in the past few decades and has become its own genre.
All three of the aforementioned Gothic supernatural films are ‘gravely’ serious and refined visions that tell a subtext or deeper meaning about inner psychological conflict and the path of self-discovery, which is effectively brought to life by the presence of ghosts and spirits. Therefore, while on the surface, the films appear to haunt the screen as a well-crafted ghost story, they also delve into meaningful themes that reach beyond their supernatural framework and their sense of the otherworldly.
These films represent a departure from typical ghost stories, offering nuanced, psychologically complex narratives that delve into the human psyche. These narratives are particularly powerful when amplified through the Gothic aesthetic.
With its cold earnestness, Lewis Allen’s stunning prototype of an authentic cinematic ghost story doesn’t expose the uncanny happenings as a mere gimmick perpetrated by human design to misdirect and obscure mischief. These ghosts are very real and dangerous.
Right off the bat, the movie gained attention for being above other horror films —as an early example of “elevated horror” or “higher bracket horror pictures,” as Jack Cartwright wrote at the time.
Hollywood normally sprinkled its ghost stories with a generous dose of comedy or as a subterfuge devised to cover up some criminal operations. Four years earlier, Paramount released the Bob Hope comedy classic The Ghost Breakers; the horror/comedy subgenre shifted to a lighthearted tone characterized by antics with the ‘it can all be explained away by the end of the picture’ flare. We can see this type of over-the-top carnival horror in pictures pulled off by showman William Castle in the 1950s & 60s, with House on Haunted Hill and 13 Ghosts.
Paulette Goddard and Bob Hope in The Ghost Breakers 1940.
Kay Hammond, Rex Harrison and Constance Cummings in Blithe Spirit 1945.
The Uninvited is an innovative approach to the supernatural Hollywood horror formula. It takes a bold stance by presenting these elements as genuine occurrences rather than comedic devices or plot misdirections and was considered “unusual and controversial” at the time, setting it apart from lighter iterations like Blithe Spirit or Topper, refraining from the campy theatrics typical of its predecessors. Allen’s film can be regarded as the first major Hollywood motion picture that transformed ‘ghosts’ into something malignant and threatening.
Gary J. Svehla’s The Uninvited essay in Cinematic Hauntings states: Hollywood’s glib attitude toward ghosts – perhaps they quickly became the caricature of human beings wearing a white sheet in two-reel comedies or the comical howling spirits of Disney cartoons, the ghost in Hollywood has never been taken seriously enough. Hollywood’s attraction to the ghost movie genre has largely been tongue-in-cheek with early thirties encounters between spooks and Laurel and Hardy, the Three Stooges, and the robust, demented Little Rascals. Even the MGM late thirties version of A Christmas Carol, featuring disembodied spirits of the spookiest nature, still managed to keep the proceedings moralistic, tidy, and safe (even fun).
Svehla cites the Halperin Brothers’ deadly serious pre-code horror Supernatural 1933, starring Carole Lombard, as one of the first mature ghost movies. It is still an obscure gem barely remembered today.
The Uninvited emerged as a pivotal work in the supernatural thriller canon, marking a significant shift in the genre’s trajectory, opting for a nuanced exploration of spectral phenomena that would redefine the genre.
This 1944 Paramount picture starred Ray Milland, one of its top stars, and Ruth Hussey, best known for her Oscar-nominated performance as Best Supporting Actress in The Philadelphia Story 1940.
Directed by the English-born Lewis Allen, with over thirty West End productions to his credit and several successful Broadway shows as well, he established himself as a prominent figure in theatre until he went to Los Angeles and joined Paramount.
In his directorial debut, Allen masterfully adapted Irish writer and activist Dorothy Macardle’s 1941 novel Uneasy Freehold, renamed The Uninvited, for its U.S. publication.
While his repertoire includes films like The Unseen 1945 (also a Dorothy Macardle adaptation which made it to the screen a year later), Desert Fury (1947), the atmospheric noir So Evil My Love (1948), and the tense thriller Suddenly (1954), it’s The Uninvited (1944) of all his moody offerings; it’s the film that stands out as his crowning achievement. Paramount allocated a substantial budget and assembled a talented cast for the production, resulting in a successful hit!
Joel McCrea and Gail Russell in The Unseen 1945.
Though more of a continuation of the theme rather than a literal sequel, Lewis Allen directed the follow-up, The Unseen (1945), also starring Gail Russell, this time playing a governess – echoing the Gothic themes of The Innocents (1961).
“As we think about The Uninvited today, its production tells us a lot about why it remains so culturally significant. When producer Charles Brackett bought the rights to Dorothy Macardle‘s 1941 novel, he had Alfred Hitchcock in mind to direct. Hitchcock had made Rebecca a year earlier in a similar fashion to what Brackett imagined The Uninvited could be: moody, gothic, and haunting. Brackett met with Hitchcock, who read the book but could not direct it due to scheduling conflicts. Hitchcock did give some suggestions to Brackett, but whether or not he used those suggestions is unknown.” – from The Original Ghostly Thrills of ‘The Uninvited’ published October 26, 2021, by Emily Kubincanek, senior Contributor for Film School Rejects.
The Uninvited will certainly resonate with admirers of Hitchcock’s adaptation of Daphne du Maurier’s Rebecca 1940, sharing some of its elements of psychological suspense and haunting ‘spirits’ from the past. Both stories explore parallel themes that center around the ‘afterlife’ influence of the idealized woman/wife revered as the epitome of perfection who casts a long, malevolent shadow over a pure-hearted girl.
Dame Judith Anderson and Joan Fontaine in Alfred Hitchcock’s Rebecca 1940.
It’s a complex blend of a psychological thriller and the obvious supernatural horror, blurring the lines between the tangible and the specters of the afterlife. It’s also a harmony of melodrama and Gothic romance, drawing inspiration from films like Rebecca; The Uninvited utilizes gothic elements such as a foreboding mansion and a sense of lingering past trauma. In addition to that, the murder mystery structure is a story in which Ray Milland and Ruth Hussey uncover clues about past events and dark family secrets as they investigate the haunting.
Allen clues us in on the uncanny phenomena by using sound, melancholic sobbing is particularly powerful, and other unseen forces to suggest a supernatural presence—such as intense cold, the lingering scent of perfume, and an overwhelming sense of oppressive sadness. This likely had a significant impact on another iconic film about a haunted house: Robert Wise’s The Haunting 1963.
Ray Milland was cast as the sophisticated Rick Fitzgerald, who seeks to lighten the tense atmosphere with his comedic flair—a skill playing the charming everyman he frequently showcased in his roles as a romantic lead. That same year, he co-starred with Ginger Rogers in the romantic musical drama Lady in the Dark and Fritz Lang’s spy thriller Ministry of Fear.
“He’s been described as an existential Cary Grant, and his performance here captures that sentiment perfectly. Ultimately, though, the comedy here feels more like genre residue, the persisting remnants of a past cycle that championed comedy over horror in a film pushing new boundaries of otherworldly terror. It’s in the film’s most haunting, stylized moments that it feels most grounded and self-assured.” — from Caleb Allison from the 2021 essay Erotic and Esoteric : The Uninvited as Queer Cult Film.
In her debut role, Gail Russell’s performance as the twenty-year-old Stella Meredith is the driving force of the film, making her character a pivotal element of the story. In her first leading role, Russell masterfully embodies Stella’s complexities; her portrayal captures the essence of a true Gothic heroine, as she combines vulnerability with courageous spirit, gentility with a rebellious heart throughout the picture. She is ideal – haunted and consumed.
She brings a feverish intensity as a waif longing for her mother, who spirals into a state of desperation as a young woman under a spell.
The role of Stella Meredith is widely regarded as one of her best and played a significant role in establishing her as a star in Hollywood. With The Uninvited, and for a brief time during the 1940s, Gail Russell’s spellbinding, ethereal beauty, which trade magazines compared to Hedy Lamarr, the film captured the essence of what might have been for the talented actress, showcased in films like Frank Borzage’s Moonrise 1948. The Western, Angel and the Badman (1947) featuring John Wayne and once again alongside Wayne in the South Seas adventure Wake of the Red Witch (1948). She also starred in John Farrow’s noir/psychological horror film Night Has a Thousand Eyes 1948, co-starring Edward G. Robinson.
Gail Russell and John Lund in Night Has a Thousand Eyes 1948.
From the time she started out at the age of 19, Gail Russell fell victim to the ravages of the Hollywood star factory and descended into a tragic life of alcoholism. Withdrawn, anxious, and out of place for the Hollywood hustle, she drank to calm her nerves while on the set of this movie.
Russell suffered from pathological shyness, preferring to have lived a reclusive life as an artist. Her mother pushed her into an acting career, wishing to exploit her sensual good looks to move the family up in class. It is an ironic twist that she plays a young woman in the grip of her mother’s controlling influence.
By the time she appeared in Budd Boetticher’s Seven Men from Now in 1956, alcoholism had taken a toll on her once-stunning looks, and her career was nearly at an end. Tragically, she passed away in 1961 at the age of thirty-six due to complications related to her drinking.
The screenplay, brimming with intelligence and wit, was written by Frank Partos, a staff writer for both Paramount and RKO, and Dodie Smith, the established playwright and children’s author known for The Hundred and One Dalmatians, which itself was infused with a few Gothic elements. Partos had often worked with Paramount Producer Charles Brackett, who often collaborated with Billy Wilder.
According to Emily Kubincanek, Partos was “ Only available because he’d turned down co-writing Double Indemnity 1944 because he felt the morally challenging plot of that classic noir was too ‘sordid’ and bound to violate the Hays Code.”
What makes The Uninvited so effective owes a lot to Charles Lang Jr.’s cinematography, which earned him an Academy Award nomination for the film’s memorably eerie atmosphere and visual style, characterized by moody lighting and evocative shadows. All these elements contribute significantly to the film’s ability to unsettle us while not relying on overt scares. That year, though, the Oscar went to Joseph LaShelle for Laura 1944.
Lang creates some of his eeriest glow that cuts through the darkness, with candles, the fluttering points of flame from oil lamps, and gobos of the sea configuring its shimmering light.
Lewis Allen initially wanted the ghostly visitations to occur offscreen, leaving all the otherworldly manifestations to the imagination. As with Lewton’s idea of fear evoked by what is yet seen, only to materialize in the darkened corners conjured by the audience’s mind, Allen had the same vision for his film. But Paramount denied his wishes, so the ghost does materialize later in the picture as a growing mist coiling like the breath of a slumbering dragon, obscuring the vague outline of a woman’s face.
The nocturnal scenes, when the specters of Windward House come to life, are exquisitely realized. Vast expanses of darkness create liminal spaces and a sense of dread that might be hidden in the shadows.
The British censors cut the ghost from the film’s UK release, and English movie critics applauded Allen for his understated stroke of restraint.
Notes from the Beyond -The Score of The Uninvited:
Rick is a music critic and disheartened composer who romanticizes his muse, the ethereal young Stella, which inspires him to write for her the timeless serenade, “Stella By Starlight.”
Victor Young wrote the song specifically for the picture, transforming it into a haunting musical lamentation that echoes David Raksin’s mesmerizing theme for the film noir masterpiece Laura, which was released in the same year. Both pieces highlight the profound influence that a score can have on their films.
Stella by Starlight is one of the most widely recognized American jazz standards, with versions recorded by so many musical legends, including Miles Davis, Stan Getz, Nat King Cole, and Chet Baker.
Victor Young’s score is just one out of hundreds he wrote during his illustrious career, which earned him more than 20 Academy Award nominations. Two years after the film, Ned Washington wrote lyrics to go with the tune, translated by great voices such as Tony Bennett, Ella Fitzgerald, and Frank Sinatra.
A notable fact about Edith Head’s fashions for The Uninvited is that she designed costumes that enhanced the film’s elegant, eerie atmosphere and helped establish its characters’ visual identities.
Some of Stephen Seymour’s interiors were initially featured in I Married a Witch (1942), while others were custom-built, intentionally avoiding the typical look of a haunted house.
Throughout The Uninvited, the central relationship that unites everyone revolves around Stella’s mother, Mary Meredith, represented by her paintings seen throughout the movie.
The imposing portraits of Mary Meredith command attention in two distinct locations. One canvas occupies an entire wall in Stella’s bedroom at her grandfather’s house. The other, equally monumental, looms over Miss Holloway’s office at The Mary Meredith Retreat— on the surface – a proper sort of sanctuary for women in distress and neurotics.
The paintings by Richard Kitchen immortalize their subject as the very essence of the idealized woman in the style of the 18th-century British painters William Hogarth and Thomas Gainsborough. The model is the uncredited actress Elizabeth Russell, who appeared in several of Val Lewton’s RKO shadowplays, Cat People 1942, Curse of Cat People 1944, and The Seventh Victim 1943.
The Uninvited explores human connections where the threads of wholesome bonds intersect with those that are deeply twisted. With its treatment of contrasting and distorted maternal legacies and fractured motherhood, their shadows haunt Stella and Windward House—the shadows of two tormented, restless mothers who have not yet found release. The film presents a threat to young Stella, who has lost her mother. This threat is presented using elements of Gothic fiction, specifically through the trope of a haunting.
She is also ‘haunted’ by the memory of what she believes was a good and nurturing mother figure. And the resolution comes through a sort of ritual purification or banishing of that illusion, the spirit of this memory, liberating her from her false vision or idealization that was keeping her from growing up.
In this haunting tale, Stella’s visit to the cliffside house takes a perilous turn as she nearly plummets from the cliff’s edge like her mother. Later, during a séance, she unexpectedly begins speaking in fragmented Spanish, adding to the eerie atmosphere.
Donald Crisp plays the overprotective grandfather of Gail Russell in Lewis Allen’s The Uninvited 1944.
Stella’s grandfather, harboring undisclosed fears for her safety, will contact Miss Holloway (Cornelia Otis Skinner), who once served as her mother Mary’s nurse. Miss Holloway’s unsettling devotion to the deceased Mary and her ominous demeanor towards Stella evoke chilling comparisons to the character of Mrs. Danvers from the classic novel Rebecca.
Windward House is plagued by a wraith who might be Stella’s mother, Mary. Does Mary harbor contempt for the living and seek vengeance for her artist husband and the affinity she had for her companion, Miss Holloway, her implied lesbian lover?
As the story unfolds, Rick finds himself falling deeply in love with Stella. The urgency to cleanse the house of its malevolent presence becomes intertwined with Rick’s desire to protect Stella herself. Wanting to exorcise Windward’s dark forces Rick makes it his mission to save the woman/child he loves.
The film employs the trope of American urban elites out of their element in the English bucolic countryside who come up against sinister forces, a concept familiar to audiences as far back as 1932 with James Whales’s The Old Dark House. Yet aside from this conventional cliché, the film skillfully delivers its chills through plausible and relatable moments. It explores the impact of maternal absence, both genuine and illusory while following the brother and sister sophisticates who inadvertently occupy an ‘occupied’ house.
The truth about the two spirits inhabiting Windward House will soon come out. The first announces itself with a bone-chilling cold, while the second reveals its presence through the intoxicating fragrance of mimosa that lingers in the air, which, at times, will become overwhelmed by the cloyingly sweet scent. Later, Lizzie (Barbara Everest), the housekeeper, visibly shaken, tells of an inexplicable, creeping mist on the landing. All these uncanny intrusions hint at forces beyond the corporal world.
KEENLY AWARE: Questionable Types!
Only one aspect of the optical effect appears distinctly and massively, and that is heterosexuality. Homosexuality appears like a ghost, only dimly and sometimes not at all. (Monique Wittig)
The Catholic Church condemned the film for its sapphic undercurrent. William Hays, head of the Motion Picture Producers and Distributors of America (MPPDA) at the time, received a letter from a Legion executive stating:
League of Decency raised concerns about the film attracting large audiences of a questionable type.
“In certain theaters, large audiences of questionable type attended this film at unusual hours. The impression created by their presence was that they had been previously informed of certain erotic and esoteric elements in the film.” – As pointed out by Rhona J. Berenstein in her, “Adaptation, Censorship, and Audiences of Questionable Type: Lesbian Sightings in Rebecca (1940) and The Uninvited” (1944)” (1998).
The Legion of Decency awarded The Uninvited a B rating—a classification that, while not horrible, was far from ideal. Interestingly, their primary objection didn’t stem from the film’s coded queer subcontext but rather focused on its use of the Ouija board used during the séance. The official critique stated: “The spiritistic séance sequence is so constructed as to convey impressions of credence and possible invitation to spiritistic practices.”
Subtle allusions and veiled references, sometimes bordering on the overt, suggest a ‘queer’ presence throughout the film. Though these devices were often cloaked in ambiguity, they provided a much keenly wanting queer audience trained in scrutinizing the peripheries of each frame and deciphering hidden meanings.
The Uninvited’s nuanced queer subtext, which I had written about in my early feature Queers & Dykes in the Dark, can be read here. You can dive into all five chapters in the series:
Chapter 4 – Queers and Dykes in the Dark: Classic, Noir & Horror Cinema’s Coded Gay Characters:
“Other aspects drew criticism of a different sort. As enacted by Cornelia Otis Skinner and her underbite, Miss Holloway is the movie’s most unsettling earthly presence. Skinner was primarily an author and theater actor, and she gives Holloway a strong touch of Lady Macbeth: a deep voice, a daggerlike glance, a gliding walk, and a posture that suggests a two-by-four strapped to her back.” – Farran Smith Nehme 2013 essay The Uninvited: Spirits by Starlight)
There are a few notable women’s Gothic horror stories with a lesbian subtext. Hitchcock’s film adaptation Rebecca is a prime example of the genre. It recalls the heroine’s exploration of a dead woman’s secrets. Yet she faces interference from the malevolent figure of the housekeeper, Mrs. Danvers (Judith Anderson).
Both the antiheroines of Rebecca and The Uninvited share a cohesive identity. Mrs Danvers, who ultimately sets Manderlay on fire, reunites herself with the ghost of her lost love, Rebecca, who, as Modleski interprets, ‘haunts’ her.
Drawing parallels with Rebecca, where Mrs. Danvers venerates the immortal portrait of her absent namesake, Miss Holloway similarly reveres the imposing likeness of her departed beloved Mary Meredith, which looms above the fireplace in her office.
Her barely veiled confessions expose the intimate bond she and Mary shared with each other, revealing the true nature of their relationship. In fact, Lang’s cinematography connects Miss Holloway and Mary Meredith, representing them as inseparable, particularly linked to the essence of Mary’s life-infused portrait.
In nearly every scene featuring Miss Holloway, Mary’s portrait is central to the screen, not merely as set decoration but framed as a significant presence in the room. In this fever sequence, Miss Holloway swoons over the painting, recalling her intense connection to Mary. There is hardly a line spoken by Miss Holloway that doesn’t invoke Mary’s spirit.
Much like Dame Judith Anderson, Skinner exerts a strong presence in her scenes. The entire cast in The Uninvited, not to mention the formidable character actor Donald Crisp, appears to yield to her. Miss Holloway, poised below her beloved Mary’s portrait, having given to sudden lyrical outbursts.
In The Uninvited, Miss Holloway (Cornelia Otis Skinner) works her way up to madness and sends Stella to Windward House, snickering, “It’s all straight now.”
Simone Simon and Ann Carter in Val Lewton’s Curse of the Cat People 1944.
The most significant Hollywood ghost stories, Val Lewton/Robert Wise’s Curse of the Cat People 1944, Lewis Allen’s The Uninvited 1944, Jack Clayton’s adaptation of Henry James’ story, The Innocents 1961, and Robert Wise’s The Haunting 1963 all are encircled by the uncanny serendipity with spooky coded lesbianism. Under the guise of Gothic family melodrama, what lies beneath the hidden motivations in these storylines is the indulgence of female sexuality that instigates a supernatural or strangeness that is let loose.
In The Uninvited, Miss Holloway possesses the hypnotic powers of domination, which she uses later in the picture to send Stella back to the cliffs of Windward House. In the same vein as Rebecca, the ghost of Mary is shown ultimately to be in contrast to the woman people originally thought she was. It turns out that she has abandoned the idea of motherhood and feels no love for her daughter Stella. But there is a twist that exists behind this story, which I won’t give away. Mary also bears a ‘deviant’ quality to herself, which is revealed through the reflections by Miss Holloway. We understand through Holloway’s reminiscence that Mary was herself not ‘straight,’ as Miss Holloway looks longing at the portrait, “They shall never find out my darling.” her ‘sterility’ is represented by the symbolic means of the haunting… the ‘icy rage’ which manifests in the studio as the presence of eerie, bone-chilling cold.
“The implication that such excessive love signifies lesbianism is facilitated by the film’s intimations of the adult lesbian desire between Miss Holloway and Mary…Miss Holloway tenderly extols Mary’s beauty and goodness and reminisces about the plans they used to make as if they had been a couple. “ (The Uninvited – Lesbian Cinephilia by Patricia White)
Miss Holloway, having sent Stella to her death- “The cliffs and the rocks below, that’s where Mary went- that’s where she died was such a lonely soul- I’ve don’t what she wanted at last haven’t I, Mary? – It’s all straight now-there are no frayed edges, no loose ends, all straight, all smooth.”
She Has Been Waiting For Me: The Plot
The film opens with a haunting juxtaposition: a somber voice-over narration plays against visuals of frenzied waves and roiling surf crashing upon Cornwall’s craggy shoreline. This striking contrast immediately establishes the movie’s eerie atmosphere, setting the stage for the moody tale that follows. Milland narrates: “They call these the haunted shores . . .
… These stretches of Devonshire and Cornwall and Ireland that rear up against the westward ocean. Mists gather here and sea fog and eerie stories. That’s not because there are more ghosts here than in any other places mind you… it’s just that the people who live here are strangely aware of them. You see day and night, year in year out. They listen to the pound and the stir of the waves. There’s life and death in that restless sound. And eternity too… if you listen to it long enough all your senses are sharpened. You come by strange instincts. You get to recognize a peculiar cold which is the first warning. The cold which is no mere matter of degrees farenheit but a draining of warmth from the vital centers of the living…”
We will be prepared for the ‘peculiar cold,’ which is the first warning—a ‘draining’ cold that saps the warmth from the living.
Lewis Allen transitions to a long shot capturing two figures ascending a cliff towards the vacant Windward House, which has no electricity and has stood empty for almost twenty years. The pair of Americans are unwittingly oblivious to the house’s future terrors.
The story follows Rick Fitzerald ( Ray Milland), a music critic and frustrated composer, and his sister Pamela ( Ruth Hussey), who travel 300 miles from their London flat to vacation on the wave-tossed rustic Cornish coast of England as they serendipitously stumble upon the magnificent, lonely clifftop estate. Pamela believes it is their dream house.
They stroll in ‘uninvited’ after their energetic little terrier, Bobby, darts after a squirrel through an open window in a delightful spurt of chaos, prompting the pair to follow, after which they pause to appreciate the quiet place.
As they wander around investigating, happy to explore, they linger by the locked door of the eerie atelier. Later, they will take in the large windows overlooking the cliffs that drop off to the raging ocean. And a heaviness will come over them as it hangs in the air—an oppressive wave of something that hints at things to come.
Pamela falls in love with Windward House and insists they pool their money together. Rick is also taken in by the tranquility and picturesque views and envisions a future where he can compose music full-time. However, he wonders what would happen if the house wasn’t actually for sale. Pamela’s unwavering optimism reassures him: “Life is not that cruel.”
Both Rick and Pamela are cheerful sorts, with Rick a bit more grounded in practicality while Pamela remains more receptive to the idea of the unexplained. After learning from Mrs. Brown that the house is indeed for sale by one, Commander Beech, Rick cautions Pamela, saying, “We’re mildly interested, remember—not keenly interested,” as they prepare to approach Beech about buying Windward House.
The owner of Windward House is a somber British Commander (wonderful character actor Donald Crisp) who now lives in the village. He would be more than thrilled to pass on this heavy burden to the pair of American siblings, as he feels it poses a threat, a kind of malevolence toward his fragile 20-year-old granddaughter Stella (Gail Russell).
Stella Meredith is the orphaned girl-in-peril, the rightful heir to Windward House, who now lives with her overprotective grandfather. His insistence on keeping Stella away from the old house where she was born—and from the cliffs where her mother, Mary Meredith, tragically fell to her death 17 years ago—raises questions about his true motives. Stella believes that he has never really gotten over his daughter’s death.
She has a strong attachment to the place, an actual compulsion to visit it, and an inexplicable sense of belonging there. Stella finds herself undeniably bound and under the strict control of her grandfather, who is deadly afraid that the spirits who lie in wait at Windward House are hell-bent on possessing her. Despite this, Stella harbors a deep affection for both her mother’s memory and the house where they lived together for three years. Initially resistant to the sale of the property, Stella eventually gives in when she recognizes the Fitzgeralds’ kindness.
Rick and Pamela journey to Commander Beech’s house, and along comes the angelic yet melancholy Stella Meredith. Her sad eyes are hauntingly beautiful.
For Stella, Windward House represents her sole connection to her mother. Although she hasn’t set foot inside since she was three, she is determined not to let her grandfather sell her childhood home.
She greets them by saying the house is not for sale and that they will be wasting their time waiting for her grandfather to arrive home. However, Commander Beech’s sudden return reveals that the house is indeed for sale, which thwarts Stella’s attempt to send them away.
Stella had lived there until she was three, with her mother and artist father, referred to only as Meredith, and his mistress, a Spanish gypsy named Carmel. All three are now dead. Mary Meredith plunged to her death off the cliff near Windward, and now… Stella is convinced that her mother haunts her childhood home.
Windward House was given to his daughter Mary by the Commander when Stella was born, but after Mary died there three years later, the property became too expensive to maintain, and insists on forbidding Stella to go there.
The Commander maintains a quiet, formal politeness while secretly protecting the deep family secrets he wishes to keep hidden from both Stella and these outsiders.
Rick makes a ridiculously low offer when he reveals that they can only offer £1,200 for the house. Yet, the Commander readily accepts the price, feeling reassured that the money will secure a future for his young granddaughter.
Commander Beech accepts it with immediate yet stern enthusiasm and conviction, which strikes Rick as a little odd, but Winward House will now be theirs.
The Commander also leaves them with a warning about the former tenants of Windward House. Of the ‘disturbances,’ though he will not go any further into the matter, he could easily stop the sale right now if they wish, but the sale is firm. Heartbroken by this betrayal, Stella declares, “It was my mother’s house!”
Soon, the ethereal yet sorrowful Stella approaches Rick outside in front of one of the shops, “My mother made me apologize!” Remembering that Stella’s mother, Mary, is dead, Rick learns that her mother’s portrait, painted by her father, hangs in her room and that she must believe that her mother would have approved of Rick and his sister moving into the house.
Stella explains that her grandfather just hasn’t gotten over her mother’s tragic death. “She lived there for three years, my years… I love that house. It’s not right to hate it because somebody died there.” It doesn’t go unnoticed by Rick that she lives a very sheltered life with her reclusive grandfather, spending her days reading Dicken’s from the local library aloud with him as entertainment.
Enchanted by the house and blissfully unaware of its illicit history, they’re elated to have purchased this beautiful but mysterious seaside manor on the Cornwall coast for a price too good to be true.
But soon enough, they will quickly grow to understand why it was such a bargain—mysterious moaning, the oppressive cold room, and wilting flowers. By then, it will be too late. Windward House now belongs to them, and at first, they will resist the locals’ rumors that it is haunted.
The house seems to breathe with an eerie life of its own. Sunlight streams through expansive windows, framing the majestic ocean vista beyond. Rick and Pamela, blissfully unaware, marvel at their newfound paradise. Yet, an unseen undercurrent ripples through the air, hinting at secrets lurking in the shadows.
The chandeliers hang gently as if an unseen hand keeps them pristine. Most telling of all, their loyal terrier, Bobby, refuses to ascend the staircase, his animal instincts sensing something his human masters cannot. The stage is set for a haunting tale, with the house itself as both backdrop and active player in the unfolding mystery.
Upon entering the studio (the one door that wouldn’t open before) for the first time after purchasing Windward, Rick, and Pamela, although stunning with its expansive view, are struck by the unsettling atmosphere. She wryly remarks that it’s no surprise the artist’s studio had been kept under lock and key, likening it to Bluebeard’s forbidden chamber.
Pamela immediately remarks on the room’s unappealing nature: “It’s the one ugly room in the house!” It is ‘damp’ and “it needs airing… funny how it should strike so cold in here!”
In this moment, Lewis Allen’s masterful control of mood and Lang’s camera capture Milland’s expression as it transforms. The light-hearted amusement rapidly fades from his features, replaced by a growing sense of unease.
From the film’s opening narration, the first warning of the draining cold catches up with them.
Rick sits down and remarks, “I suddenly feel completely flattened.” In order to shake off this morbid feeling, he decides to make the room his studio, “ Placing the piano over there… Do you think I will ever be able to write here?”
As Pamela tries to assure Rick that this will be the perfect place for him to compose his music in this icy, oppressive, odd-framed space, unseen by either of them, the hand-cut roses Pamela has brought into the room quickly wither as the harmful supernatural influence causes them to decay in moments.
Shortly after getting settled in with their skittish housekeeper, Lizzie (Barbara Everest), they encounter strange occurrences and eerie sounds that suggest the presence of a ghost.
Windward House harbors more than just memories; the haunting is linked to the tragic past of the house. It’s home to the restless spirits of two women, Stella’s mother, Mary, who died under mysterious circumstances, and Meredith’s mistress, the gypsy girl Carmel. Their presence is far from innocent. There’s the inexplicable icy air permeating the studio, defying even the warmest days while the elusive scent of mimosa drifts throughout the house.
Fascinated by the darkly captivating girl, Rick attempts to lighten the mood with Stella by taking her out on a sailing adventure in a rented boat.
Stella begins to relax and open up as she finds herself drawn to Rick’s charm. She confides in him, remarking on his frequent laughter, something she’s never experienced before. Later, Rick shares his thoughts with Pamela, describing Stella as having a “Sleeping Beauty magic about the kid” and that he hasn’t managed to break the spell, referring to himself as Prince Charmless. Even the perceptive Pamela notices the shift in Rick’s feelings towards Stella, evolving from mere sympathy to genuine affection, a fact he is readily willing to admit.
Rick leaves for London to fetch Lizzie, their housekeeper. When he returns, he learns that their little terrier, Bobby, has run off. Lizzie brings her cat Whiskey with her, who proceeds to react with her arched back and hissing at the bottom of the stairs as if sensing some danger. When all three take to the stairs with their candles, the flames blow out.
The new owners of Windward find their sleep disturbed by mysterious sobbing that seems to cry out from everywhere and nowhere. The nocturnal tranquility is suddenly shattered by eerie, mournful sounds—a blend of spectral lamentations that pierce the darkness, and a sense of dis-ease takes over. Whispers of an ethereal presence reveal themselves.
One of the crucial haunting sequences mirrors an earlier moment in the film when Rick and Pamela first come to realize that uninvited spirits genuinely possess Windward House.
Before going to sleep, Pamela heads to Rick’s bedroom to bring him an extra blanket, where he is happily reading in bed, declaring, “I’ve never been so happy in all my life!”
But after Pamela goes back to bed, in the middle of the night, Rick is awakened by an eerie sobbing and intensified moans that echo throughout Windward.
The eerie bellowing of a woman reverberates throughout the darkness. Rick gets up to investigate with Pamela, who doesn’t wish to wake up Lizzie. Rick asks, “Isn’t it Lizzie?” She confesses, “It’s coming from downstairs. It comes from everywhere… nowhere.” He tells her, ” I’m going down to search the place.” She assures Rick, ” I’ve searched. There’s never anything there… It’s true… you’re hearing it too? I thought I might be going crazy.”
Pamela tells him that while he was away in London, “Just when you think you dreamt it, it comes again. Be calm; it will stop now.”
By dawn, the sobbing ebbs to silence, and Rick tries to hide behind a steely determination that there’s a logical explanation, though he is truly afraid. “This business can be scientifically explained. I’m here now, and I’m not rattled.”
Rick wonders why she hadn’t told him about this before. She didn’t tell him because Winward is his home now. It’s “All he’s got to live in.” Pamela adds, ” It sounds so heartbroken.” Rick tries to rationalize it away by suggesting that it’s probably an aerial wire that is downed, picking up a woman in the village. With a bit of sarcastic irony in her voice, Pamela asks, “Was she crying when the last tenants were frightened out?” Always with the witty comebacks, Rick answers, “Well, maybe she had a sad life.”
Rick confronts Commander Beech about the history of ‘disturbances’ and sternly asks why he brought the matter to him. His sister Pamela believes it’s a ghost, and he wants some information on the story behind it. At that moment, Stella comes in. Rick is surprised to see her up and around since he was told that she was ill.
However, the Commander isn’t as happy about this new bond forming between the Fitzgeralds and refuses to allow Stella to go to Windward to see them. He tells Rick that Stella “ Suffers with a general delicacy; she is not strong enough to make new friends.” Commander Beech assures Rick, “Stella is not going back inside that home.”
To which Rick replies, “ Great Scott, you believe the place is haunted!”
After Stella is sent away, Rick offends the Commander by carelessly intimating that perhaps it’s Stella’s mother who is haunting Windward House since the crying began only after her death.
The old man reminds Rick that even though he now owns the property, it hasn’t established ” a social bond between them.” But he firmly assures Commander Beech that Stella will continue to come to Windward at his request. And Rick does just that. He invites Stella to dinner at eight.
He finds himself drawn to the strange girl. Despite her grandfather’s clear disapproval, Rick remains undeterred in his pursuit, refusing to distance himself from her. And he seems to have brightened up her world. She tells Rick, ” It’s time I stopped living someone else’s life.”
Commander Beech, driven to distraction by the new bond forming between Rick and his granddaughter, immediately calls Miss Holloway, his daughter’s old companion and nurse who now runs The Mary Meredith Retreat. “Isn’t it a bit late to consult me?” He pleads with her, “You’re the only human being in the world I can turn to. The only person who wouldn’t think me demented because I believe a house could be filled with malignanty, a malignanty directed against a certain child.”
When Stella arrives at Windward House for her first visit, she is taken to her old nursery. With a new bright smile, she exclaims, “How happy this house must be to be among the living again!”
While the nursery brings back happy memories for Stella, she can’t shake off a recurring dream. In this room, she experienced a chilling darkness, “ a dark, frightening cold, then a flame would come, and all be light, warm, peaceful. Then someone would put the flame out; I’d be terrified!”
As Stella continues her tour of the house, she finds herself in Rick’s music studio, which used to be her father’s art studio. She reveals that this is where her father had painted her mother’s portraits, which appear throughout the film. “Strange to think of them here,” Stella thinks back. “ And sometimes he painted the model, a foreign girl, but people get hush hush when I mention her.”
She jokes with Rick, ” Between you and me and the grand piano, I suspect Father was a bit of a bad hat.”
It suddenly becomes real to her that her father had carried on an affair with his other model, Carmel. She muses calmly, “If father had been as good as mother, look what I may have been!”
The richly layered score breathes life into the scene where Rick begins playing piano for Stella. Having taken her there before dinner, they speak in silhouette until she gently remarks, “It’s getting almost too dark to see you.”
Rick lights the candles and begins serenading Stella with an original piano piece called Stella by Starlight. Stella responds, “It’s the most exciting thing that ever happened to me.” Rick pauses while she sits beside him. He continues playing piano. Rick alludes to the studio that was once used by her father, who painted there. “This is the only way I can paint you- black keys and white – fingers much too clumsy.”
Rick’s romantic interlude suddenly shifts subtlety. The candles flicker, the flame becomes more vague, and the melody takes on an oddly somber tone. Stella, feeling uneasy, asks, “Why did you change it?” Soon, she starts to tremble with fear. Rick replies, ” It just came out that way!”
The camera shifts and is now peering through the flickering candles. Rick admits his fingers are too clumsy to truly capture Stella, but he adds, “You’re in it somehow.” As he says this, the candles suddenly dim, casting long shadows almost turning the light to black, and Rick’s melody unexpectedly turns into a minor key. Stella’s eyes, pale and deeply shadowed, peer over the candelabra, creating a hauntingly beautiful ambiance. In this moment, two elusive paradoxes—love and an unsettling darkness—seem to coexist.
Recalling her mother’s tragic fate, Stella wonders how she could even laugh or find joy in this house right now. Rick tries to reassure her, saying, “It’s my house now.” But Stella can’t shake the memory: “She died so cruelly!” Overwhelmed with emotion, she rushes out of the studio and away from the house, heading straight for the perilous cliffs.
They find Stella in a trance, standing at the edge of the cliff overlooking the sea, the same spot where Stella’s mother fell to her death when Stella was a just a baby.
Rick reaches her as she tells him, “I had no sense of danger… this is where my mother fell, by the dead tree.”
Rick and Pamela try to lift the somber spell she is under by singing a playful song together; arm in arm, they begin to walk back to the house.
Their moment is abruptly shattered by a piercing scream from their housekeeper, Lizzy. Rick rushes inside with a candle and discovers Lizzy paralyzed by fear on the staircase, engulfed in darkness. “The studio door—there’s something there! I saw it—a crawling mist. It stood at the studio door, looking down at me… the ghost of a woman!”
Stella is transfixed but soon rushes upstairs to the studio, where she collapses. Rick finds her unconscious, “Pam, this room’s like an icebox!” He quickly calls Dr. Scott from the village for help. Dr. Scott concludes it to be a nasty case of shock.
Enter British actor Alan Napier, best known for his portrayal of the enduring favorite – Alfred Pennyworth, Bruce Wayne’s butler in the 1960s Batman television series. He plays Dr. Scott, the film’s ‘rational explainer,’ the local doctor who joins forces with the Fitzgeralds to solve the mystery of Windward House. He is able to reveal the local history and will eventually help shed light on Stella’s mother’s tragic death when she fell off the cliff under mysterious circumstances. Scott offers sound advice, yet it doesn’t apply in this situation. He tells Rick and Pamela that Bobby has moved in with him after finding the poor little dog trembling in the streets. He also explains that everyone in the village thinks there is something strange about the place. Pamela asks Dr. Scott to tell them everything he knows about the history of Windward House. He shares the story of Carmel and how Meredith was a ‘bad lot’ and how the whole affair was an ‘open scandal.’ Carmel would have been stoned alive if Mary Meredith weren’t so respected. She must have just accepted it. Pamela interjects, ” And she’s still sobbing her heart out about it.”
Carmel died in the house a week after Mary fell from the cliff. It was all hinted about as a case of murder; all dug up after Meredith died three years ago. ” All of them dead, with their secrets,” Pamela adds. Rick chimes in, “Well, one of them’s not quite dead enough for me!”
Dr. Scott has advises that Stella stay overnight. Rick warns, ” But suppose that spook starts howling?”
The three sit in the parlor playing cards. Pamela wonders what a spirit’s purpose is for coming back. As they wait for the early light of dawn, they begin to smell the overwhelming scent of mimosa. Looking toward the darkness through the doorway, they see a little glow of light.
The familiar scent of mimosa fills out the space—a poignant reminder of Stella’s father, who passed away three years ago having never returned to Windward House. He had sent Stella a bottle of her mother’s favorite perfume, which she had managed to make last. Worried about Stella, Rick, Pamela, and Dr. Scott enter the nursery to investigate.
The window is wide open, and Stella’s bed is empty. Obscured by the curtains, she looks outward toward dawn with a gentle gaze.
Stella says, “I wanted to see the dawn… with her. Don’t you know who is in your home – my mother? I awoke with the knowledge that someone loved me so much. My mother would never harm me!”
Rick tells Stella she is not to return to Windward again. Stella pleads, ” You couldn’t want to keep me away from her!” Dr. Scott takes Stella home to her grandfather.
The puzzled expression on Rick’s face silently conveys a pressing question: who or what nearly led Stella to her death just the night before? Filled with guilt and genuine concern for Stella, Rick asks Pamela, “ Wonder what I did to her? Bringing her here. That look in her eyes… that terrible happiness.”
Pamela wonders, “ If a spirit comes back, it’s for one particular purpose, and since Stella has apparently been reunited with the spirit of her mother, Mary, perhaps the hauntings will end. Perhaps we don’t have a ghost anymore! Only warmth and fragrance.”
The true challenge lies ahead: entering the studio, the location of the more disturbing hauntings. Pamela doesn’t easily admit the studio feels the same ghastly cold when she and Rick enter the room, “ It may not be quite so cold, really?” But Rick knows the truth: “ It’s clammy and rotten!” An unholy sobbing rises and falls like a chant. Pamela utters, “Mary Meredith, we’re sorry you had to suffer.” Rick comments, ” Pamela, you’re right! We haven’t got a ghost anymore! We’ve got two of them!”
Rick is now sure that Stella is in danger. He plans to take her to London and tear down the Windward House.
While Rick and Pamela continue to experience the uncanny occurrences that plague Windward, Rick falls deeper in love with Stella and is more determined than ever to save her from a tragic fate similar to that of her mother.
Rick goes to see Stella to tell her that she isn’t to come to Windward anymore and that in London together, there will be ” no more unseen, uninvited guests.”
There are conflicting energies acting out in that house, where the spirits are at times gentle but then turn hostile. Stella refuses to give up her connection to Windward. She tells Rick, ” She has been waiting for me. In some queer sort of way, I always knew it.”
Rick begs Dr. Scott to do something about Stella’s unhealthy addiction to her mother’s memory and the house. He tells Rick, ” She’s been listening to a voice that has been there for seventeen years.” Pamela suggests that they try to get a message from Mary Meredith by holding a séance. It’s how the dead are supposed to communicate with the living. Rick interjects, ” According to the idiot fringe.” But Pamela insists, ” Many intelligent people believe in spiritualism.” Pamela tells Rick that not all séances are fake. That’s when he gets the bright idea of staging one to make it appear that Mary is reaching out to Stella, and as Dr. Scott believes, it will resolve the conflict that threatens Stella’s mind.
Lewis Allen’s straightforward approach to the pivotal séance scene is remarkably effective.
They decide to confront the mysterious forces at play by holding the séance. Rick and Pamela plan to stage a fake séance to create the illusion that Mary’s spirit is finally at peace so Stella can move on. However, just as Stella’s mental state is unstable, so too are the ghosts within Windward House. The spirit session appears to conjure up an apparition that occupies the room. Through the séance, Rick and Pamela find that Stella’s mother has been longing to reach out to her daughter, but there is the other spirit who is incredibly hostile.
During the séance, while using the improvised Ouija board, Rick struggles to pretend he’s not pushing down on the glass on purpose. Stella discovers this and insists that she and Pamela press on it by themselves. It is revealed that the spirit is there to protect Stella from harm as the glass moves toward YES in answer to their questions when, suddenly, the glass flies up and shatters against the fireplace. Stella falls into a deep trance and begins speaking in Spanish, words that no one can understand. The room once again fills with the overpowering scent of mimosa.
It provides a powerful realization of Stella’s possession as her words fumed in Spanish. This moment serves as a crucial clue. Stella’s gaze reveals an enigma, the strange dance of ecstasy and torment, almost like she’s on the edge of losing herself. Commander Beech has arrived at Windward House and begins frantically ringing the doorbell.
The familiar scent of mimosa returns, along with an intense chill. “ It’s never been cold in here,” Pam notices. Just then, the candles are extinguished, and a ghostly mist appears near the door.
The apparition vanishes only when the Commander breaks a glass pane to enter the house after his knocks go unanswered. At this moment, Rick realizes the harsh truth: “ Stella will never be well until this house is cured!”
Throughout the story, Stella holds onto the house and the version of her mother; and the thought of losing Windward looms just as much as the coiling shadows. Losing it feels like a real threat to her very own existence. Windward House is the fragile thread binding her to all she knows. So, is there a cure?
Commander Beech rushes into Windward House just as the ghostly tableau comes to a close, discovering his granddaughter Stella unconscious.
He informs Dr. Scott that he is no longer needed for Stella’s care. He wants to prevent Stella from returning to Windward House once and for all, where she is increasingly threatened by the spirits there. Commander Beech takes Stella home and calls for Miss Holloway.
Commander Beech is troubled by Rick’s putting her in danger by searching into the house’s past; he asks Holloway to take ‘Mary’s place’ by committing Stella to her hospital, The Mary Meredith Retreat, believed to be a sanitarium but essentially a prison. Holloway is somewhat of a ‘plaster saint,’ beloved by the locals for her charity work and benevolence. There, in her office, hangs the grand portrait of Stella’s mother, Mary. When Holloway enters Stella’s bedroom, the walls of which also pay tribute to Mary Meredith with a giant portrait, she is told that Rick and Pamela are digging into the past. “Are they indeed? I could have cured her years ago if you’d let me have her as Mary would have wished me to…
“Mary was a goddess. Her skin was radiant, and that bright, bright hair… How this room brings her back to me. The nights we sat talking in front of that fireplace, planning our whole lives. It wasn’t flirtations and dresses we talked about. We were no silly, giggling girls. We intended to conquer life…
So they’re searching into the past. They shall never find out my darling.”
Miss Holloway, who has devoted her entire professional life to serving Mary Meredith’s memory, convinces Commander Beech that she is the only one who can exorcise the demons possessing Stella and Windward House.
Holloway’s ‘cure’ for Stella is to free her from the influence of Rick, Pamela, and Windward House for good. And so Commander Beech commits Stella to Holloway’s retreat.
Meanwhile, Lizzie returns to Windward House after being too frightened to stay there after the mist at the top of the stairs. She discovers the makeshift Ouji board and says, ” It’s a heathen device to call Devils out of hell!”
Lizzie, who knows all the gossip from the village, also informs Rick and Pamela that the trained nurse who took care of Carmel is still alive and might have some answers for them if they’re seeking facts and the history of the house. The nurse’s name… Miss Holloway. They need to go see her at The Mary Meredith Retreat. Rick and Pamela enter the ‘retreat’ and immediately get an oppressive feeling.
“Claustrophobic high walls, gothic aloofness, and prison-like regimentation, the hospital motto, Health Through Harmony, hide that it is a prison, ultimately hides or reveals it is disguised as an insane asylum – and reflects Stella’s inner turmoil “ – as Gary J. Svehla implies.
Resident of The Mary Meredith Retreat – Dorothy Stickney, as Miss Bird wanders in.
In Miss Holloway’s view, ” this is like a hotel,” the residents are “guests” rather than patients despite the imposing high ceilings, vacuous feeling, and Gothic touches looming down from overhead, which evoke an atmosphere that fills the space with a sense of a madhouse. The imposing portrait of Mary Meredith dominating Holloway’s office with its oppressive presence, leads Holloway to sing Mary’s praises. Pamela asks what Mary and Carmel were really like.
“ She was the finest human being I ever knew,” and Carmel? ” Oh, she was exceptional too. I never saw such intensity of evil. She was a Spanish gypsy. Crafy, cruel.”
Holloway tells them the story of Mary, Meredith, and Carmel going to Paris while Mary had the baby and how they came back without Carmel. But Carmel returned with a better plan than killing the both of them. She went to the nursery, took Stella, and rushed to the cliffs. That’s where Holloway saw Carmel strike Mary down, and then she fell to her death. Rick and Pamela realize now it was murder! Holloway tells them Carmel’s will to kill had always been there. Rick tells her about Stella’s near fall at the same spot, and a light goes off in Holloway’s devious mind while she finishes the story of how Carmel ran off into the storm and crawled back with double pneumonia, how she’d fought for her life, though hating her the whole time. Carmel died a week later. Rick asks who told Carmel to leave Windward. Holloway tells them, Meredith. ” It was the one decent thing he did.”
After they leave, Miss Holloway goes to Stella’s room. Stella feels trapped, “I’m being treated as if I were insane!” Holloway gaslight Stella, “Has anyone used that word?” She tells her,” My doors are locked, and there’s a queer look in their eye.”
Stella calmly asks the lurking witch, “ Does grandfather know what this place is like.. why do you hate me??” the wily Holloway answers, “ Oh… You do feel persecuted!” Stella realizes that her grandfather foolishly thinks that being captive in this bedlam is the only way she will be ‘cured’ of the spell of Windward House.
Holloway asks about the episode on the cliff, ” Was it as though some will were directing you? A will stronger than yours?”
As Rick and Pamela head back to Windward House, they decide to stop at Dr. Scott’s home. Pamela wonders why there are ‘plaster saints’ at the hospital. ” Maybe she likes them. She is one.”
They tell Dr. Scott they’ve been to the hospital. ” What Holy Holloway?” He takes them into his office to look through the original doctor’s journals.
Rick and Pam begin to delve further into the house’s dark history and uncover the coiling phantoms of love, loss, and unresolved wounds. They learn of the real horror behind Windward House’s haunting, where the malevolent spirit is directing its ire toward the vulnerable Stella.
Rick uncovers more about Mary Meredith and the life she led in Windward House 17 years ago, including the widespread belief that Mary’s fall from the cliff wasn’t merely an accident. He and Pamela also learn that Meredith’s mistress, Carmel, may have met an equally suspicious fate soon after. This revelation gives them a greater concern for Stella’s safety.
Pam, Rick, and Dr. Scott go through the personal journals of the doctor who took care of the family before he stepped in and discover that after Mary’s death, Miss Holloway treated Carmel before her death related to pneumonia, and there seems to be evidence that points to an open window and traces of snow on the bedroom floor. The notes cite ‘criminal negligence.’ All signs lead them to believe Holloway murdered Carmel.
They return to Windward and are greeted by Lizzie. As she is set to leave, she tells them, “ All the wickedness of this house is gathered around!”
Pamela calls out, ” I wish you’d tell us what you want, Mary Meredith.”
Unseen, the first doctor’s journal’s pages begin to flutter. An invisible pair of hands seems to flip open the pages, and they begin to turn on their own, trying to send a message to the living.
When Dr. Scott learns that Stella is being held against her will at Miss Holloway’s hospital, they go to rescue her. As they leave, they begin to smell the familiar fragrance of mimosa.
While they prepare to break Stella free from Holloway’s grip, the sinister woman has plans of her own. She summons Stella to her office and decides to set her free in her own way… to return to her beloved Windward House.
“What she wants (looking stoically up at Mary’s portrait), I want, “ the sinister Miss Holloway utters to Stella that she can catch a train in 40 minutes and informs her to go straight to Windward!
When Rick, Pamela, and Dr. Scott arrive at the hospital, they find Holloway in a manic state, ” You know those moments when the light is very clear? When the scales at last swing into perfect balance.”
Holloway, raving, declares that she has freed Stella to go “Not to Windward House. Better than that! To the cliff and the rocks below the cliff. That’s where Mary went. I’ve done what she wanted at last.”
As the story builds to its climax, the core of hidden truths come to light about Miss Holloway and Mary Meredith harboring a shared dark secret. As Holloway revisits their forbidden knowledge, she begins unraveling. In a chilling sequence filled with repressed desires and dialogue rich with coded language, Miss Holloway unflinchingly engages with her memories of Mary.
“I’ve done what she wanted at last, haven’t I, Mary? It’s all straight now. There are no frayed edges, no loose ends, all straight, all smooth.”
Her underlying resentment and hatred of Stella are made clear and have manifested into a twisted plot of revenge; her baleful motives are to get Stella to kill herself – poetically – on the same cliff which her lost love plunged to her death.
Yet again, there are similarities with Hitchcock’s Rebecca, as Holloway sends Stella back to Windward House so she can once again stand by the edge of the cliff by the dead tree and jump off. In that way, Stella can finally resolve her pathological longing for her mother.
The Uninvited is revered for its serious treatment of supernatural elements, distinguishing it from earlier horror films that often depicted ghosts in a comedic light. It is recognized as one of the first Hollywood films to portray a haunting as an authentic and serious phenomenon, featuring a genuinely malevolent spirit rather than merely human antagonists.
With its atmospheric cinematography, compelling performances, sharp dialogue, and one of the most evocative scores, The Uninvited remains one of the most striking in the genre and has influenced subsequent ghost stories in classic cinema.
This post has been in celebration of CMBA’s A Haunting Blogathon: In the Afterlife!
