Welcome back to our queer film retrospective, “A Gay Old Time.” In this week’s column, we continue our month-long exploration of horror’s queer appeal with 1964’s Hush… Hush, Sweet Charlotte.
This month, in anticipation of Halloween, we’ve been diving deep into how different horror tropes are used to reflect the queer experience on film. However, this week’s subject isn’t so much about LGBTQ+ representation on screen, but a type of film that appeals to us regardless, examining a sub-genre built around the simple pleasure of watching older actresses go over-the-top. In other words, gay catnip.
What Ever Happened To Baby Jane? holds a special place in the lore of both classic Hollywood and queer cinema. It came out at the tail-end of the Golden Age of Cinema, and was a direct comment on how the transition to a new style of filmmaking was leaving its former stars behind.
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It had Joan Crawford and Bette Davis at the center, who each brought their own baggage to the roles and created a behind-the-scenes feud so infamous that it became its own urban legend. The performances turned that film into a camp classic—both completely exaggerated and yet filled with pathos and earnestness.
In the aftermath, many films tried to recapture this formula—to varying results—creating an entire new horror sub-genre in the process: hagsploitation, a.k.a. the “psycho biddy” flick.
A Hag For All Seasons
This genre of films—of which Baby Jane is its first and biggest representative—starred actresses of a certain age, usually former icons of the silver screen (women like Crawford and Davis, Geraldine Page, Ruth Gordon, Shelley Winters, Shelley Long, and Olivia de Havilland) and whose own fading star power were highlighted or commented on.
More often than not, they focused on aging beauties who had become isolated from society, slowly losing their minds or having some sort of emotional breakdown. And although they were usually low-budget with a cheap production value, it allowed women to step into leading roles at a point in their lives where they were being otherwise ignored by the industry, and let them go big and loud with their performances.
Hagsploitation really had its moment in the 1960s and 1970s, though a handful of examples have arrived in recent years, with titles like Ma, Greta, or this year’s The Front Room. But back in the post-Baby Jane Hollywood, studios and filmmakers aimed to capitalize on its success. Not only that, they wanted to replicate the exact alchemy of that movie, and tried to reunite its two lead actresses with 1964’s Hush… Hush, Sweet Charlotte.
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This Thanksgiving weekend, watch sisters Vanessa and Lynn Redgrave go toe-to-toe in this “hagsploitation” classic.
The Set-Up
Hush… Hush, Sweet Charlotte follows the story of Charlotte Hollis (Bette Davis) a southern belle who was planning to elope with the husband of one of her friends as a young girl. When her father found out, she made the man break up with her. Tormented and heartbroken, Charlotte then killed and beheaded the man.
Now, almost 40 years later, Charlotte lives as a spinster, ostracized and delusional under the care of her faithful servant Velma (Agnes Moorehead). When the sheriff informs her that the house is going to be knocked down, her cousin Miriam (Olivia de Havilland) comes to take care of matters, but she may have underlying intentions as Charlotte becomes haunted by her past actions and slowly loses her grasp on reality.
The Feud Continues?
The film was meant to be a full reunion of the Baby Jane team. It was also directed by Robert Aldrich and based on the unpublished short story “What Ever Happened To Cousin Charlotte?” by Henry Farrell, who had penned the Baby Jane novel. After the success of the movie, Aldrich wanted to explore similar themes in a different setting, and have the two actresses “switch roles” with Crawford playing the deviant cousin to Davis’ helpless recluse.
The two were attached to star, and filming actually went underway when Crawford fell ill. After she failed to recover (although some reports question if she was actually sick at all), production had to be suspended, and the insurance company insisted that she be replaced or the movie would be canceled. Thus, Olivia de Havilland was cast in the secondary lead role instead.
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Add Davis to the long list of people with a grievance against Dunaway.
The Forgotten Step-Sister
Although less focused and biting than its predecessor, the movie still shines with its twisty Southern Gothic storyline, and through the central performances. Bette Davis proved that she could play tortured as well as she could torturer, and Agnes Moorehead is a standout as the well-meaning but tough hillbilly servant (she got an Academy Award nomination for her performance).
Olivia de Havilland has more trouble navigating the intentions of her character, playing the initial sweetness quite well but not making the mid-movie twist as believable. You could see how someone like Crawford would make it shine.
The movie was a moderate box office success, and received seven Academy Award nominations, although with time its clear Sweet Charlotte didn’t have the same, lasting cultural impact as its elder sister. However, it has all the right elements that made Baby Jane a camp classic: iconic women from the big screen giving it their all—and then some—as complex female characters, complete with long winded-monologues, wild accent work, and plenty of blood and gore.
Why We Love Our Broads Broad
Hush… Hush, Sweet Charlotte encapsulates why we as a queer community continue to gravitate towards strong and powerful women; they are underdogs, just like we are. This genre of movie speaks to the way they are constantly underestimated, taken advantage of, or considered less than, both in front and behind the camera.
But they don’t take it. They grab the center stage in whatever way they can, delivering capital-B Big performances that demand attention and respect. They make it about themselves in a way we all wish we could. Sometimes murder is the only way to be taken seriously.
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