Category: Ubiquity

MonsterGirl’s 150 Days of Classic Horror #26 The Beast With Five Fingers 1946

THE BEAST WITH FIVE FINGERS 1946

The Beast with Five Fingers is a 1946 American mystery-horror film directed by Robert Florey (Murders in the Rue Morgue 1932), who was very fluent in television of the 1950s and ’60s, including Boris Karloff’s Thriller and Alfred Hitchcock Presents. It is based on the 1919 short story of the same name by W. F. Harvey, which plays into the disembodied hand trope. The screenplay was written by Curt Siodmak, known for his work on other horror classics like The Wolf Man (1941) and I Walked with a Zombie (1943).

The film stars Robert Alda, Andrea King, Victor Francen, and Peter Lorre. It tells the story of a retired concert pianist, Francis Ingram (Francen), who lives in a large manor house in turn-of-the-century Italy. After Ingram’s mysterious death, strange events begin to occur, centered around his seemingly animated, disembodied left hand.

The plot revolves around the reading of Ingram’s will, which leaves everything to his nurse, Julie Holden (King), much to the dismay of his relatives. As tensions rise, a series of murders occur, apparently committed by Ingram’s severed hand. The film builds suspense through a combination of psychological horror and supernatural elements.

Peter Lorre, as usual, delivers a standout performance as Hilary Cummins, Ingram’s secretary and astrologist, who becomes increasingly unhinged as the story progresses. The film’s score was composed by Max Steiner, adding to its eerie atmosphere. Steiner, “the father of film music,” composed scores for some of the most iconic and epic Hollywood films of the 20th century. Here’s a summary of his most notable works: King Kong 1933, Gone With the Wind 1939, Casablanca, and Now, Voyager 1942. Over his career, Steiner composed more than 300 film scores and was nominated for 24 Academy Awards, winning three.

The Beast with Five Fingers was Warner Bros.’s only foray into the horror genre in the 1940s and marked Peter Lorre’s last film with the studio. The movie is notable for its innovative special effects, which bring the disembodied hand to life through various techniques. Warner Bros. pianist Victor Aller performs the piano pieces featured in the film, whose hand is shown playing throughout the movie.

Despite initial reluctance from the cast due to concerns about the film’s title sounding like a “campy B-Movie,” the actors were eventually won over by the fascinating script. The production was not without its lighter moments, as Peter Lorre was known for playing practical jokes on set, once causing filming to be canceled for a day due to his antics. Sara Karloff shared with me that Lorre enjoyed a good practical joke with his other colleagues, her father Boris, and other co-star Vincent Price on the set of The Raven 1963.

Over time, The Beast with Five Fingers has grown in popularity and is now considered a classic of its genre. It even inspired Charles Addams’s creation of the character Thing in The Addams Family. While it may not be as frightening by today’s standards, the film remains a chilling and memorable entry in the horror genre of the 1940s.

#26 down, 124 to go! Your EverLovin’ Joey, formally & affectionately known as MonsterGirl!

MonsterGirl’s 150 Days of Classic Horror #24 Beast in the Cellar 1970 & The Shuttered Room 1967

SPOILER ALERT!

BEAST IN THE CELLAR 1970

The Beast in the Cellar (1971) is a British horror film directed by James Kelly, starring two inimitable British actors, Beryl Reid as Ellie Ballantyne and Flora Robson as Joyce Ballantyne. The film follows two proper elderly sisters living near a rural army base in Lancashire, where soldiers are being mysteriously murdered.

In the delightfully dreary The Beast in the Cellar (1971), two spinster sisters, Ellie (Beryl Reid) and Joyce (Flora Robson), are living their best lives in a rural English cottage, complete with a secret ingredient that’s not exactly listed in the local cookbook: their deranged brother Steven (Dafydd Havard), who’s been locked in the cellar for decades.

The story revolves around the Ballantyne sisters’ dark secret: their brother Steven, whom they’ve kept locked in their cellar for nearly 30 years in order to keep him from joining the war effort. After their father returned from World War I traumatized and violent, the sisters decided to protect Steven from being drafted into World War II by drugging and imprisoning him in the cellar until he evolved into a feral animal.

As the murders continue, the sisters realize that Steven has escaped through a tunnel he dug and is responsible for the killings plaguing the village. His years of confinement and abuse have left him with a hatred for uniformed soldiers.

Through the plodding and cloyingly oppressive atmosphere, the film builds tension as the sisters struggle to conceal their secrets and deal with the consequences of what they have done.

While The Beast in the Cellar attempts to blend psychological horror with social commentary on the effects of war, it received mixed reviews. Critics noted its slow pace and lack of traditional horror elements but praised the performances of Reid and Robson, who never disappoint. The film has since gained a cult following for its unique premise and exploration of family secrets and the long-term consequences of misguided protection.

THE SHUTTERED ROOM 1967

The Shuttered Room (1967), directed by David Greene, marked Greene’s feature-film debut after directing episodes of The Twilight Zone and Playhouse 90. Greene would go on to direct notable films such as the very taught psycho-sexual thriller I Start Counting (1969), starring Jenny Agutter, and Godspell (1973). His television work includes acclaimed projects like Roots (1977), for which he won an Emmy.

This is another British psychological horror film steeped in Gothic atmosphere and folk horror elements. Based on the 1959 short story by August Derleth, written as a “posthumous collaboration” with H.P. Lovecraft, the film loosely draws inspiration from Lovecraftian themes while carving out its own identity. The screenplay was penned by D.B. Ledrov and Nathaniel Tanchuck. Carol Lynley delivers a nuanced performance as the haunted Susannah Kelton, balancing vulnerability with quiet resilience as she confronts both external threats and internal demons.

The film also stars Gig Young as the pragmatic Mike Kelton and Oliver Reed as the menacing Ethan. Reed’s portrayal echoes his earlier work in Joseph Losey’s These Are the Damned (1963).

The insular island community evokes themes of the folk horror elements of superstition and isolation common in folk horror, predating films like The Wicker Man (1973).

The Shuttered Room also stars the wonderful Flora Robson (she would later return to the genre in Beast in the Cellar in 1970), who delivers a memorable performance as the mysterious Aunt Agatha. Robson shines as Aunt Agatha, embodying the archetype of the wise but cryptic elder who knows more than she reveals.

The film includes moody cinematography by Ken Hodges and music by Basil Kirchin, which further enhance the film’s unsettling tone.

The story follows Susannah Kelton (Carol Lynley), a young woman raised in foster care who inherits her childhood home—a decrepit mill on a remote New England island—after her parents’ death.

Accompanied by her husband, Mike (Gig Young), Susannah reluctantly returns to confront her past. The island’s insular and hostile locals, led by her lecherous cousin Ethan (Oliver Reed), warn of a family curse tied to the mill, where an unseen terror lurks in the attic’s shuttered room.

As Susannah grapples with repressed childhood memories of trauma, she becomes the target of both Ethan’s (Reed) violent advances and the mill’s dark secret. The film builds toward a shocking revelation: the “monster” in the attic is Susannah’s deranged sister, Sarah, who has hidden away since birth due to her deformities and homicidal tendencies, which leads to a climactic confrontation.

David Greene’s direction imbues The Shuttered Room with a brooding atmosphere that blends Gothic horror with modern psychological tension. Though set in New England, the film was shot entirely in Norfolk, England, lending an eerie, decayed charm to its rural setting. Greene employs innovative techniques for his time, including point-of-view shots from the “monster,” which later became a hallmark of slasher films.

Ken Hodges’s cinematography captures the desolation of the island and the oppressive gloom of the mill with stark contrasts between light and shadow. The titular shuttered room becomes a visual metaphor for repression—both familial and psychological—while recurring imagery like decaying wood and shattered glass underscores themes of fragility and entrapment.

Basil Kirchin’s score alternates between jaunty jazz motifs and ominous basslines, creating an unsettling juxtaposition that mirrors Susannah’s uneasy return to her roots. This departure from traditional gothic orchestration gives the film a modern edge while maintaining its sense of dread.

The Shuttered Room 1967 explores repression and trauma and how buried secrets—both familial and personal—can fester into destructive forces. Susannah’s repressed memories parallel Sarah’s literal imprisonment.

The Shuttered Room occupies an intriguing position within British horror cinema of the 1960s. While often overshadowed by Hammer Films’ Gothic output during this period, it stands out for its fusion of Gothic tropes with modern psychological horror. Its depiction of rural hostility and repressed trauma aligns it with early folk horror works that would later define the subgenre.

With its decaying millhouse hiding both family secrets and unspeakable horrors, The Shuttered Room weaves a tale where Gothic dread meets up with folk horror unease—making the film a chilling exploration of things lurking behind locked doors.

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MonsterGirl’s 150 Days of Classic Horror #21 Burnt Offerings 1976

BURNT OFFERINGS 1976

Dan Curtis’s Burnt Offerings (1976) is a sophisticated psychological horror film that subverts traditional haunted house tropes. It stars Karen Black, Oliver Reed, Bette Davis, Lee H. Montgomery, Eileen Heckart, and Burgess Meredith as Roz and Arnold Allardyce, the odd brother and sister who own the mansion.

Burnt Offerings is a morbidly fascinating tale of a family’s summer vacation gone horribly wrong. Karen Black and Oliver Reed star as Marian and Ben Rolf, a couple who rent a massive Victorian mansion for a suspiciously low price. Marian and Ben, along with their son David (Lee H. Montgomery) and Aunt Elizabeth (Bette Davis)—rent the sprawling house for the summer until things take a dark turn. Though the house is too good to be true, there is one catch: The Rolfs must care for Roz and Arnold’s unseen elderly mother, who resides in the attic.

The family soon discovers that their dream home has quirks, like Mrs. Allardyce, the mysterious old lady who never leaves her room, a garden that resurrects itself, and a house with an appetite for human souls.

The real scene-stealer, and the one that made me jump out of my seat in the theater, is the sinister chauffeur, played by Anthony James, who appears in Ben’s nightmares. James, known for his creepy on-screen presence, really gives you a shock to the system in the coffin scene with Bette Davis.

As the house’s sinister influence grows, the Rolfs find themselves in a race against time to escape before they become the latest addition to the property’s unique renovation plan. Burnt Offerings is the perfect example of 70s horror as many of the horror films from that era relied on psychological terror and a pervasive sense of dread rather than graphic violence or supernatural spectacle, though a soul-sucking evil house does have its moments.

Dan Curtis, adept at atmospheric Gothic horror, which includes character-driven supernatural narratives and thoughtful genre adaptations, masterfully builds tension through subtle atmospheric changes and the gradual transformation of the characters, particularly Marian’s growing obsession with the house. The film’s intelligent script, co-written by Curtis and William F. Nolan, delves into the psychological impact of the house on its inhabitants, blurring the lines between reality and supernatural influence.

Burnt Offerings stands out for its nuanced approach to horror, eschewing cheap scares in favor of a pervasive sense of dread. The film’s exploration of how evil can manifest through seemingly benign objects and the corruption of familial bonds is what truly adds a layer of shivers because family dynamics are complex enough when adding a layer of a malevolent force that seeks to destroy them.

Anthony James, with his uniquely imposing face and his topography of scars, delivers a chilling performance as the sinister chauffeur. This recurring apparition that haunts and tortures Ben’s nightmares serves as a harbinger of the house’s malevolent nature. The specter of James’s character becomes a symbol of the inevitable doom that awaits the family as the film explores themes of familial disintegration and the insidious nature of evil, a haunting meditation on the seductive and destructive power of both.

#21 down, 129 to go! Your EverLovin’ Joey formally & affectionately known as MonsterGirl!

 

MonsterGirl’s 150 Days of Classic Horror #18 The Black Cat 1934 & The Raven 1935

THE BLACK CAT 1934

EDGAR G.ULMER’S: THE BLACK CAT (1934) “ARE WE BOTH NOT"¦ THE LIVING DEAD?”

Edgar G. Ulmer’s The Black Cat (1934) is a psychological horror film that marked the first on-screen pairing of Boris Karloff and Bela Lugosi. Despite its title, the film bears little resemblance to Edgar Allan Poe’s story, instead focusing on the aftermath of World War I and its psychological impact on survivors.

The plot revolves around American newlyweds Peter and Joan Alison (David Manners and Julie Bishop ), who become entangled in a sinister feud between Dr. Vitus Werdegast (Lugosi) and Hjalmar Poelzig (Karloff) while honeymooning in Hungary. Werdegast, a psychiatrist recently freed from a Siberian prison camp, seeks revenge against Poelzig, an Austrian architect who betrayed their fort during the war, leading to thousands of deaths.

The film’s atmosphere is heavy with themes of revenge, psychological trauma, and the lingering effects of war within an ultra-modernist interior set that lends to the psychologically constrictive and repressive interior landscape.

Poelzig’s modernist house, built on the ruins of the betrayed fort, serves as a metaphor for the attempt to cover past atrocities with a veneer of progress, yet it feels like an avant-garde prison.

Ulmer employs expressionistic techniques, including stark sets and unconventional camera angles, to create a pervasive sense of unease. The titular black cat, while not central to the plot, symbolizes death and evil to Karloff (misconceptions that have led to the persecution of cats, particularly black cats), which menacingly affects the ailurophobic Werdegast. The film culminates in a tense game of chess between the two antagonists, deciding the fate of the American couple, and a climactic confrontation involving Satanic rituals and gruesome revenge. The Black Cat stands out among Universal’s horror offerings of the time for its psychological depth and its unflinching look at the dark aftermath of war. Edgar G. Ulmer’s film pushed the boundaries of what was acceptable in cinema at the time, featuring several controversial and disturbing elements that are shocking even by today’s standards.

This pre-code horror film strongly hints at necrophilic themes through Poelzig’s collection of preserved dead women. These bodies are displayed behind glass, lovingly maintained, and dressed in sheer, clingy material. Poelzig’s apparent fascination with these corpses, particularly his wife Karen’s preserved body, suggests a disturbing obsession with the sexualization of the dead.

The climax of the film features an incredibly gruesome scene where Werdegast binds Poelzig to an embalming rack and proceeds to flay him alive. While the actual skinning is not shown directly, Ulmer uses shadow play to depict the horrific act, accompanied by Poelzig’s agonized screams. This scene was so shocking and remarkable that it made it to the screen.

The film culminates in a Black Mass ceremony, where Poelzig prepares to sacrifice Joan to Satan. This depiction of devil worship was highly controversial for its time and added to the film’s overall sense of moral decay and corruption. The Black Cat also touches on other taboo subjects, such as Incest: Poelzig marries his stepdaughter, who shares the same name as his deceased wife.

There’s also the psychological trauma: exploring the lasting effects of war on the human psyche. The film’s ability to pack so many disturbing elements into its brief 65-minute runtime while mostly relying on suggestion rather than explicit depiction is a testament to Ulmer’s skill as a filmmaker. The Black Cat remains a landmark in horror cinema, pushing the boundaries of what could be explored on screen in the pre-code horror of the 1930s.

THE RAVEN 1935

The Raven (1935) is a psychological horror film directed by Lew Landers, one of the few rich collaborations starring Boris Karloff and Bela Lugosi in their second on-screen pairing. Despite its title, the film is only loosely inspired by Edgar Allan Poe’s works, focusing instead on a brilliant but unhinged surgeon’s obsession with torture and a young woman who is the object of his desire.

Dr. Richard Vollin (Lugosi) is a gifted neurosurgeon with a morbid fascination for Poe and torture devices. After saving the life of Jean Thatcher (Irene Ware), a young socialite, he becomes dangerously obsessed with her.

When Jean’s father, Judge Thatcher, forbids Vollin from seeing her, the doctor plots revenge. He recruits Edmond Bateman (Karloff), an escaped convict seeking facial reconstruction, by promising to fix his appearance. Instead, Vollin disfigures half of Bateman’s face to ensure his cooperation.

The facial disfiguration inflicted upon Edmond Bateman (Boris Karloff) by Dr. Vollin (Bela Lugosi) in The Raven (1935) is a gruesome and shocking act of cruelty. Vollin deliberately mutilates one side of Bateman’s face during what was supposed to be reconstructive surgery. The disfiguration is described as severely damaging the seventh cranial nerve, resulting in a grotesque asymmetry. The right side of Bateman’s face is left hideously scarred, with one eye rendered useless and the surrounding tissue distorted. The damage is so severe that when Bateman sees his reflection, he reacts with horror, desperately asking, “Do I look… different?” The audience is treated to a disturbing close-up of Karloff’s face, revealing the extent of the disfiguration – a mass of twisted flesh, a sightless eye, and nerve damage that likely causes partial facial paralysis.

This alarmingly graphic disfiguration serves as a visual representation of Vollin’s sadistic nature and becomes a central element in manipulating Bateman into becoming an unwilling accomplice in his twisted schemes.

Vollin’s basement houses recreations of Poe’s torture devices, including the pendulum from The Pit and the Pendulum. Vollin’s cruel manipulation of Bateman’s appearance is a central plot point.

The Raven culminates in a tense sequence where Vollin attempts to torture and kill Jean, her fiancé Jerry, and Judge Thatcher using his Poe-inspired devices, which consist of putting them in a small space with the walls closing in that will eventually crush them. Bateman, having developed sympathy for Jean, turns against Vollin. In the ensuing struggle, both Bateman and Vollin meet gruesome ends.

#18 down, 132 to go. Your EverLovin’ Joey, formally & affectionately known as MonsterGirl!

 

MonsterGirl’s 150 Days of Classic Horror #17 The Blood Spattered Bride 1972 & Blood and Roses 1960

THE BLOOD SPATTERED BRIDE 1972

The Blood Spattered Bride (Spanish: “La novia ensangrentada”) is a 1972 Spanish horror film directed by Vicente Aranda, based on Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu’s vampire novella “Carmilla.” The film stars Simón Andreu as the husband, Maribel Martín as Susan, and Alexandra Bastedo as Carmilla/Mircala Karstein.

Newlyweds Susan and her husband arrive at his ancestral estate for their honeymoon. Susan begins experiencing disturbing dreams and visions of Mircala Karstein, an ancestor who murdered her husband on their wedding night centuries ago. As Susan becomes increasingly detached from her husband, she falls under the influence of Carmilla, a mysterious woman who appears on the beach.

Central to the film’s impact is the seductive Carmilla, who is revealed to be a vampire and the reincarnation of Mircala Karstein. She seduces Susan, awakening her repressed desires and leading her on a bloody rampage. The film climaxes in a violent confrontation between the women and Susan’s husband.

The Blood Spattered Bride gained cult status for its blend of horror, vampirism, progressive ideas on gender and sexuality, female empowerment, and rebellion against patriarchal oppression set against the backdrop of Gothic horror.

The film’s erotic elements and violent imagery, including dream sequences and surreal visions, contribute to its unsettling atmosphere as Aranda’s direction creates a haunting and visually striking film that explores sexual politics cloaked in traditional vampire lore.

BLOOD AND ROSES 1960

Roger Vadim’s Blood and Roses (1960) is a visually sumptuous and erotically charged adaptation of Sheridan Le Fanu’s “Carmilla,” transporting the vampire tale to modern-day Italy. Set in modern-day Italy, the film follows Carmilla (Annette Vadim), who becomes possessed by her vampire ancestor Millarca (also Vadim) during her cousin’s engagement party.

The film also stars Mel Ferrer as Leopoldo and Elsa Martinelli as Georgia. Vadim’s direction blends surrealism, psychological horror, and sensuality, creating a dreamlike atmosphere that blurs the line between reality and fantasy. A defining scene that encapsulates the film’s unique style is the surreal black-and-white dream sequence with vibrant blood-red accents. In this pivotal moment, Georgia experiences a hallucinatory journey through a watery landscape, culminating in an operating theater where Carmilla/Millarca reveals her true nature. The sequence, with its striking visuals and symbolic imagery, showcases Vadim’s artistic approach to the vampire genre. The film’s innovative use of color, particularly in its surreal black-and-white sequence with red accents, elevates it beyond typical vampire fare.

Claude Renoir’s cinematography is a breathtaking piece of phantasmagoria, particularly in scenes like Carmilla’s ethereal wandering through the misty cemetery in her white dress. The lush setting of Hadrian’s Villa provides a backdrop of decadent beauty, contrasting with the film’s darker themes.

Blood and Roses explores themes of jealousy, forbidden desire, and the thin veil between life and death, offering a sophisticated take on the vampire mythos that influenced later erotic horror films. While it may not have achieved widespread recognition, it remains a visually striking and thematically rich entry in the vampire genre.

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Under the Radar: The Unseen Side of Film Noir – Part 3 – It Always Rains on Sunday (1947)

Darkness Without Escape: British Noir’s Bleak Horizons

It Always Rains on Sunday 1947

In director Robert Hamer’s masterful film It Always Rains on Sunday, the relentless downpour that drenches nearly every scene serves as both a symbol of psychological downpour as it is one of torrential weather. This persistent rain reflects the bleak, oppressive atmosphere of postwar London, mirroring the emotional turmoil and shattered dreams of its characters.

A bleak, numbing damp seeps through the air, a haunting echo of the shattered, bombed-out dreams of the various characters navigating a single gritty Sunday on the rain-drained streets of postwar East End London where Googie Withers offers a safe haven to her former lover, the escaped felon Tommy Swann (John McCallum).

In a commanding performance as Rose Sandigate, Googie Withers embodies the frustrations of a disillusioned housewife from Bethnal Green trapped in a monotonous marriage.

Boxed in by good-natured yet intrusive neighbors, she grapples with the bitter feelings of envy toward her stepdaughter’s vibrant social life. When her mundane existence is abruptly disrupted by her ex-lover resurfacing, it forces her to confront her longing for the past and the constraints of her current reality.

Susan Shaw as Googie Wither’s stepdaughter Vi.

Concealed in the sanctuary of her bedroom, Tommy stays out of sight while the ordinary rhythm of domesticity plays out just beyond the walls. Meanwhile, outside the house, the relentless threat of police and journalists at her door looking for him will disrupt their plans.

“ But with that desperate situation as its emotional and narrative core, It Always Rains on Sunday fans out into a sprawling, Altmanesque tapestry of East End life.” ( from Film at Lincoln Center)

Condensed into a gripping hour and a half, the film unfolds with relentless intensity, where every moment is imbued with meaning. As day gives way to the nighttime realm, the despair and alienation culminate in a surreal Stratford train-yard finale. Here, elongated shadows dance amidst swirling smoke and intricate rear projections, creating a fever-dream landscape where all narrative threads converge.

It Always Rains on Sunday is a 1947 British film adaptation of Arthur La Bern’s novel of the same name. Arthur La Bern also wrote the story that became Hitchcock’s psycho-sexual thriller Frenzy.

Robert Hamer, who directed the film, also helmed the irreverent Kind Hearts and Coronets (1949), The Spider and the Fly (1949), Dead of Night (1945) sequence – the eerie and disturbing “The Haunted Mirror,” Pink String & Sealing Wax 1945, The Detective (1954) starring Frank Sinatra which dealt head-on with then considered deviant subject matter, To Paris with Love (1955), The Scapegoat (1959), and School for Scoundrels (1960).

The British writers Robert Murphy and Graham Fuller compared It Always Rains on Sunday to the poetic realism movement in French cinema a few years earlier.

The film features a screenplay By Angus Mcphail, Robert Hamer, and Henry Cornelius, with moody cinematography by Douglas Slocombe, who began his career as a photojournalist. Slocombe also shot Kind Hearts and Coronets 1949, The Lavender Hill Mob 1951, The Man in the White Suit 1951, The Servant 1963, and the taut psychological thriller starring Stephen Boyd, Jack Hawkins, and Pamela Franklin The Third Secret 1964.

It Always Rains on Sunday marked the first significant success for Ealing Studios in Britain, one of the oldest film studios in existence. It opened its doors in 1905 and is still operating today.

Googie Withers and John McCallum met while filming It Always Rains on Sunday. They married the following year and remained together until McCallum’s passing in 2010 at the age of 91.

In a striking scene, Rose notices scars on Tommy’s back, remnants of the flogging he endured with cat-o’-nine-tails during his time in prison. This brutal form of punishment was a practice in British prisons dating back to the 19th century and was only abolished in 1948, the year after this film’s release.

Damian Murphy at The Sydney Morning Herald referred to Googie Withers as dubbed the Best British bad girl with a ‘haughty sexuality.’ Read this wonderful article here:

Googie Wither’s performance as the independent, hungry, and disillusioned Helen Nosteros in Jules Dassin’s masterpiece Night and the City was nothing short of extraordinary. Night and the City was Googie Withers’s last film for Ealing Studios, and thanks to her striking performance as a woman trapped in claustrophobic domesticity, it is perhaps one of her best.

31 Flavors of Noir on the Fringe to Lure you in! Part 2

Hermione Baddeley has a minor role as the proprietor of a flophouse. She is perhaps best remembered for her portrayal of Mrs. Naugatuck in the television series Maude or as the maid in Mary Poppins (1964).

British actress Hermione Baddeley as Mrs. Spry.

The film depicts events occurring on a Sunday, specifically March 23, 1947, as noted on a blackboard at the local underground station. The setting is Bethnal Green, an area in the East End of London that had endured significant devastation from bombings and the hardships of post-war life.

It Always Rains on Sunday unfolds over a single, dreary Sunday in post-war London’s East End. The story revolves around Rose Sandigate, whose mundane life is upended when her former lover, Tommy Swann, appears at her doorstep.

Rose Sandigate is a former barmaid who is now married to a middle-aged man with two teenage daughters from his previous marriage. Having stepped into the role of a housewife and stepmother, she navigates the challenges of post-war rationing and a bleak environment, supported by her kind husband (Edward Chapman) as he heals from past emotional wounds.

Googie Withers, Susan Shaw, and Edward Chapman.

Gladys Henson.

Edie Martin.

Alfie Bass, John Carol, Fred Griffiths, and Jimmy Hanley.

Meier Tzelniker.

Surrounding this central couple, Hamer crafts a richly intricate picture of the post-war East End. The community teems with a variety of characters, lively markets, and the story of a Jewish immigrant family.

We also encounter the philandering saxophone player navigating his romantic entanglements, there’s a small-time petty criminal, and his gangster brother, Lou (John Slater), who has eyes for Vi Sandgate’s (Susan Shaw) sister, Doris (Patricia Plunkett), and a group of hapless thieves and idlers whose recent warehouse robbery yielded nothing more than a bunch of children’s roller skates. All trying to make ends meet.

These diverse storylines intertwine, creating a vivid portrait of working-class life in post-war Britain, all set against the backdrop of relentless rain that mirrors the characters’ gloomy circumstances. The film’s atmospheric sense of doom overshadows the characters’ lives with a palpable tinge of noir-fatalism as it offers an intimate glimpse into the gritty underbelly of London’s working-class existence.

Rose learns from the newspaper about her former lover, Tommy Swann, who while serving four years of a seven-year sentence for robbery with violence, has escaped from Dartmoor prison and is on the run.

Tommy Swann, now an escaped convict, seeks shelter from the authorities, forcing Rose to conceal him from both the law and her unsuspecting family.

In noir fashion, there are a series of flashbacks reflecting on the time Rose and Tommy were engaged to be married. Tommy gets arrested for a robbery, and it is quite possible that he may actually be the father of Rose’s young son.

John Slater as Lou and Patricia Plunkett as Rose’s stepdaughter Doris.

The woman-driven narrative offers some unforgettable performances, richly layered and completely captivating. Among them is Rose’s beautiful daughter, Vi Sandigate (Susan Shaw), Rose’s elder stepdaughter; while stunning, she is also somewhat mercurial and entangled in an affair with occasional lover Morry Hyams (Sydney Taffler), the sax player who is very much married.

There’s also Doris, Vi’s younger sister, portrayed by Patricia Plunkett in her first film role. Despite her gentle demeanor and kind heart, Doris possesses quiet strength and is unafraid to voice her opinions or stand firm when the situation demands it. In contrast, we have Sadie, Morry’s wife, played by Betty Ann Davies. Sadie is no fool; she’s acutely aware of her husband’s infidelities.

Sidney Tafler as Morry and Betty Ann Davies as Sadie.

In a particularly poignant scene, Sadie confronts Morry with a mix of resignation and defiance, declaring, “ I know all about you and your little shiksas. I’ve known a long time, even if I haven’t said anything. But I’m not going to have them come here into my house.”  

[Morry has just told off Sadie for buying retail]
Morry: Where are you going?
Sadie Hyams: To get some fresh air. Don’t worry; I’ll get it wholesale.

Rose’s stepdaughters — Doris and Vi.

The film introduces us to Rose in a subtle yet intriguing manner. We first hear her voice through the wall, rousing her stepdaughters with a request for tea on their father’s behalf. This initial verbal introduction cleverly piques our curiosity about her identity and her role within the household. Soon after, we’re granted an intimate glimpse into Rose’s world as she begins her day. The camera follows her through a cramped bedroom shared with her husband, George. We observe her mundane morning rituals – reluctantly drawing the curtains to reveal yet another dreary, rain-soaked day, methodically unraveling the pin curls from her hair that give the impression of shadowy night.

All the while, her husband George’s voice provides a backdrop of newspaper headlines, to which Rose responds with perfunctory interest. However, the mention of an escaped convict named Thomas Swann suddenly breaks through Rose’s apparent ennui. Though she quickly masks her reaction from George, her momentary lapse in composure speaks volumes. It’s a masterful bit of storytelling, instantly conveying to the audience that Rose’s connection to Swann runs far deeper than her outward indifference suggests, hinting at the hidden depths of her character and setting the stage for the drama to unfold.

A poignant flashback transports us to Rose’s past, revealing a vivacious young woman with hair the color of burnished gold, tending bar at a local pub. We witness pivotal moments: her first encounter with the charismatic Tommy Swann, his heartfelt proposal, and Rose eagerly packing for their wedding.

However, her dreams are shattered when news of Tommy’s arrest for robbery reaches her. The contrast between Rose’s former self, full of passion and life, and her present existence is striking. She now inhabits a world of quiet desperation. Her cramped sardine can of a house, shared with two grown women, a rowdy teenager, and a respectable yet uninspiring husband, stands as a testament to her diminished circumstances. The home’s dilapidated state, with rain seeping through broken windowpanes and taking baths in the kitchen next to the stove, further underscores the stark difference between the possibilities of her past life and the nihilism of her present one.

Rose’s first shocking encounter with Tommy Swann is when she finds him hiding in her family’s air raid shelter. He asks her to help him hide out until nightfall. Though she suffers from an oppressive feeling in her life, despite her initial shock when he puts his hand over her mouth to silence her, Rose’s unresolved feelings and lasting affection for Tommy quickly surface. Her concern for his sodden state, “You’re soaking!” she says and fears that he might fall ill betray a deep-seated yearning for their past connection that persists despite the years apart.

Rose’s actions speak louder than words. Though Tommy merely requests food, she goes above and beyond, orchestrating a moment when the house is empty to smuggle him inside and feed him. Her insistence that he rest in her bedroom while she tends to his wet clothes illustrates the years of domesticity that have prepared her, though it cannot conceal the restlessness that plagues her.

 

Throughout the day, Rose consistently proves herself to be resourceful, street-smart, and remarkably composed under pressure. Consider the moments of Rose’s cunning: when her stepdaughter Doris unexpectedly returns home, Rose swiftly conceals Tommy’s drying trousers with a towel. Later, when the police arrive at her doorstep, she brazenly declares she would never assist a ” Cheap crook like Tommy Swann.”

While the constable’s fleeting visit brings with it a stark warning: harboring a fugitive could result in a two-year sentence. It doesn’t deter Rose from continuing to conceal Tommy within her walls. But Rose is no fool; she doesn’t fancy herself running off with him. “ It’s too late . . . ten years too late,” Rose tells Tommy with an expression tinged with regret. “Just send me a postcard, that’s all.”

Rose is a truly sympathetic and relatable character, as Tommy’s sudden reappearance has awakened a part of her that has been buried; this re-emergence of her former lover has reunited the old passions she hasn’t felt since he went away to prison. The scene subtly hints at unresolved feelings and yearning for her past that contrasts sharply with her current life.

She successfully keeps his presence hidden from the family, but it’s Sunday, and she must prepare lunch. She scolds the girls about their misbehavior from the previous night while the husband heads out to the pub as he typically does.

Rose’s most emotionally resonant moment—and Withers’s finest acting—occurs when Tommy confesses that he needs money to get away. Initially, she offers him the last of her housekeeping funds, a gesture that underscores her willingness to sacrifice for him.

When Tommy indicates that this amount won’t be enough, Rose fetches the engagement ring he once gave her, which she has stowed away in the back of the drawer, away from George’s eyes. She gives it to Tommy so he can either sell it or take it to a pawn shop.

However, as he admires the ring, he comments that it’s a “ Nice stone” and that he’ll get a good price for it. Rose realizes with a wave of sadness that he doesn’t remember it as the symbol of their past love. She says nothing to him about its meaning.

Withers masterfully shifts emotions. In the flash of a moment, her expression transforms from love to sadness, ultimately settling into a steely acceptance as she simply replies, ” Had it given,” revealing the profound emotional weight of their shared history.

Jack Warner as Lt. Fotherfill and Frederick Piper as Det. Sergt. Leech.

As the rainy Sunday moves on, the police drawer nearer. While Tommy is preparing to flee, a newspaper reporter acting on a tip shows up at the house, enquiring about her past relationship with Swann. When he catches wind of the situation, he tries to tip off the cops, but not before Tommy assaults him and escapes.

In a moment of sheer desperation, Rose finds herself engulfed in panic, contemplating a tragic way out; she tries to commit suicide by gassing herself.

Meanwhile, the police are hot on Tommy’s trail, pursuing him to the railway sidings. After a tense chase, Detective Inspector Fothergill (Jack Warner), who has been relentlessly tracking him down, finally apprehends him.

As the film draws to a close, we see Rose in a hospital bed, surrounded by her husband’s comforting presence. He eventually leaves the hospital alone, stepping out into a serene sky that contrasts sharply with the turmoil that was.

This is your EverLovin’ Joey sayin’ save a little bit of time to visit The Last Drive In for a rainy day!

Oops, there are gremlins in the works!

Hey gang, I know I announced a special feature to celebrate Halloween. I’m experiencing serious technical difficulties moving to a new server, so I’m unable to get my Scream Queens of the 1970s in time for that big day. I hope you’ll bear with me while we exorcise the gremlins mucking up the works!

I’ll be back soon to say “Heeeeere’s your EverLovin’ Joey!” Happy Halloween!

 

Enter Teresa Wright in The Little Foxes 1941 – Behold, tomorrow I will bring locusts"¦ and they shall eat every tree of yours that grows in the field.

“I only ever wanted to be an actress, not a star.”

Teresa Wright may seem lamblike at first glance, but don’t let the soft smile fool you into thinking there isn’t something gutsy within that charming glow. She is one of the most engaging actors, and she shows a resolute luster and independence to take on Hollywood with the same veracity she pursued wicked Uncle Charlie in Shadow of a Doubt.

Wright was not only endearing, but her acting and personal life lacked ceremony and authenticity. She was discovered by Samuel Goldwyn and gained early recognition for her exceptional performances in her first three films. She became the only actor to receive Oscar nominations for each of them. Wright earned an Oscar nomination for Best Supporting Actress and one for Mrs. Miniver.

Teresa Wright and Greer Garson in William Wyler’s Mrs. Miniver (1942).

It stands to reason that Times drama editor Edwin Schallert described Wright’s burgeoning career as “one of the most remarkably brilliant for a young player in Hollywood.””¨Despite being a Hollywood star, she remained true to herself and rejected the pretentiousness that came along with being a star. She achieved Hollywood stardom on her own terms, without selling out for the sake of glamour.

Teresa Wright was resolute in her refusal to pose for photographs while wearing bathing suits and to subject herself to superficial interviews in gossipy fan magazines. At first, Goldwyn told her he was not of “the bathing suit school of Hollywood producers.”

Muriel Teresa Wright was born in Harlem, New York City. She discovered a passion for acting while attending the exclusive Rosehaven School in Tenafly, New Jersey, after watching Helen Hayes in “Victoria Regina.” While attending high school in Maplewood, N.J., Wright participated in theatrical productions. Although one teacher advised her to pursue typing instead, a public-speaking teacher mentored her and provided her with plays to read. He also arranged for her to spend two summers at the Wharf Theater in Provincetown.

After receiving a scholarship in the two summers preceding her graduation, she began apprenticing at the Wharf Theatre in Massachusetts, appearing in plays such as The Vinegar Tree and Susan and God.
She performed in school plays and graduated from Columbia High School in Maplewood, New Jersey, in 1938. She then decided to pursue acting professionally and moved to New York.

Wright had to drop her first name when she discovered that another actress named Muriel Wright was already registered with Actors Equity.

In 1938, in her first play, she landed an understudy role in Thornton Wilder’s “Our Town” on Broadway and then toured in the play.

It was a minor role, but it also served as a chance to understudy the lead ingénue character of Emily, actress Dorothy Maguire; however, when Maguire failed to return, Teresa continued in the same role under Martha Scott. Wright eventually replaced Martha Scott when the actress adapted the role of Emily in the film version.

Following her successful stage performances, Wright made her remarkable Broadway debut as Mary in Life With Father in 1939. This caught the attention of playwright Lillian Hellman, who recommended her to Goldwyn for the screen version of Hellman’s The Little Foxes.

Teresa Wright as Alexandra (Zan) Gibbons in Lillian Hellman/William Wyler The Little Foxes (1941).

She gained recognition for her work alongside Bette Davis (who played the cold, calculating mother Regina) and Patricia Collinge who reprised her unparalleled Broadway role as the mercurial Aunt Birdie) in the film.

At that time, she had signed a contract with MGM but refused to do publicity stunts or cheese-cake shots that would turn her into a centerfold:

” The aforementioned Teresa Wright shall not be required to pose for photographs in a bathing suit unless she is in the water. Neither may she be photographed running on the beach with her hair flying in the wind. Nor may she pose in any of the following situations: In shorts, playing with a cocker spaniel; digging in a garden; whipping up a meal; attired in firecrackers and holding skyrockets for the Fourth of July; looking insinuatingly at a turkey for Thanksgiving; wearing a bunny cap with long ears for Easter; twinkling on prop snow in a skiing outfit while a fan blows her scarf; assuming an athletic stance while pretending to hit something with a bow and arrow.”

Though she became the unwilling pin-up girl, Teresa Wright became Goldwyn’s biggest overall star during the 1940s.

Teresa Wright and Gary Cooper in Pride of the Yankees (1942) image RKO via Getty Images.

Teresa received Oscar nominations for her roles in Mrs. Miniver (1942), the only movie she made for her studio MGM, and The Pride of the Yankees (1942), winning the Best Supporting Actress trophy for Mrs. Miniver.

In both roles, Teresa Wright gave heartwarming performances as the granddaughter in the sentimental war-era Mrs. Miniver and as baseball icon Lou Gehrig’s kindhearted wife in Pride of the Yankees, starring opposite Gary Cooper. Wright, now one of the most appealing newcomers in Hollywood, garnered two Best Supporting Actress and Best Actress nods in the same year. She holds the record for receiving back-to-back Academy Award nominations in her first three film roles, which still stands today.

Teresa Wright received top billing for Shadow of a Doubt, a film that was her personal favorite and earned every bit of that limelight in Alfred Hitchcock’s psychological thriller. The film places Wright as serial killer Joseph Cotten’s unsuspecting niece, Charlie, at the story’s center. Unsuspecting at first”¦

When Young Charlie (Wright) is over the moon about her favorite Uncle Charlie coming to her sleeping California town for a visit, the whole family celebrates his arrival. Her mother, Emma, Charlie’s older sister (Patricia Collings, who appeared with Wright in The Little Foxes and Casanova Brown), can’t wait to dote on her baby brother. But soon, it comes to light that Charlie might have left strangled wealthy women in his wake, and in fact, maybe The Merry Widow killer.

Teresa Wright gives a nuanced performance as Charlie Newton, who daringly holds her own in a game of cat and mouse with Joseph Cotten. They are tangled up in danger as she carefully draws out his murderous impulses.

But in the shadows beyond the edges, the family is unaware of the two characters diverge ““ one set on self-preservation with a malignant disgust for fat lazy wives who live off their husbands and the other who seeks out the truth and bends toward humanity. Their same names are where it begins and ends. Wright is a glowing jewel in the blackness of Hitchcock’s nightmare.

Continue reading “Enter Teresa Wright in The Little Foxes 1941 – Behold, tomorrow I will bring locusts"¦ and they shall eat every tree of yours that grows in the field.” →

Feature & Interview with Iconic Actress, Dancer, and Photographer, Barbara Parkins

The Raven-haired sylph who: "walks in beauty like the night"¦ Of cloudless climes and starry skies; And all that's best of dark and bright; Meet in her aspect and her eyes"¦" "” Lord Byron

Barbara Parkins is an icon of the 1960s, appearing in two of the decade's most popular and legendary film and television productions.

Barbara's exquisite beauty is undeniable, but her captivating performances in Peyton Place and Valley of the Dolls truly secured her legacy in Hollywood history and our collective consciousness. As beloved – Betty Anderson in the television series Peyton Place and as Anne Welles in the notorious adaptation of Jacqueline Susann's sensational novel Valley of the Dolls (1967). These memorable roles continue to resonate with audiences today.

But beyond any of it, the glamour, serious drama, pulp fiction, or even the camp, there is an actress who possesses an otherworldly beauty and a depth of character and quality. Not only has she touched our hearts with her performances as these two classic heroines, but she is also one of those recognizable actresses who project strength, confidence, and poise.

Barbara Parkins will undoubtedly be remembered for her portrayal of Betty Anderson Cord in the iconic 1960s prime-time operatic melodrama Peyton Place, which ran from 1964 to 1969.

Based on Grace Metalious's "˜dirty book,' Peyton Place blew the lid off of the hypocritical conformity of small-town America, capturing the complexities of American morality through high drama, showing the dark underbelly of a quaint community of "˜wholesome' families striving for normalcy amid controversial issues. That everything is not safe, it's not always comfortable, and it is without real struggle. And sometimes, life can be downright ugly. Her novel captures the "complexities of human existence"”the dramas, highs and lows, conflicts, and teenage sexuality"”depicting life’s un-romanticized, unvarnished reality. While the book offended some readers, it intrigued others, and despite being a popular show, critics often deem it shocking yet captivating." (The Baltimore Sun 1999 Laurie Kaplan article THE WOMEN OF PEYTON PLACE)

“Barbara Parkins has caught the public's eye, partly because of her beauty, partly because she is a capable little actress. But mostly because she seems to have an inner fire. She's a volcano in a tight dress.'' (From an article BARBARA PARKINS: MOST PROMISING NEWCOMER – Niagra Falls Gazette March, 1965 by Dick Kleiner)

 

Continue reading “Feature & Interview with Iconic Actress, Dancer, and Photographer, Barbara Parkins” →