Regie:
Robert AldrichDrehbuch:
Lukas HellerKamera:
Ernest HallerMusik:
Frank De VolBesetzung:
Bette Davis, Joan Crawford, Victor Buono, Wesley Addy, Julie Allred, Anne Barton, Marjorie Bennett, Robert Cornthwaite, Anna Lee, Maidie Norman (mehr)Streaming (2)
Inhalte(1)
Die beiden Schwestern Jane und Blanche, beide ehemals berühmte Schauspielerinnen, leben gemeinsam in einem alten Haus in Hollywood. Seit einem Autounfall muss sich Jane, die ein belieber Kinderstar war, um ihre an den Rollstuhl gefesselte Schwester Blanche kümmern. Als Jane, vom Alkohol und der Enttäuschung über das Ende ihrer Karriere gezeichnet, zufällig von den Plänen ihrer Schwester erfährt, das gemeinsame Haus zu verkaufen, schmiedet sie einen schockierenden Plan, um ihre Schwester loszuwerden und gleichzeitig ihr Comeback einzuläuten. (Verleiher-Text)
(mehr)Kritiken (6)
Die wahre Hölle findet in diesem Geschwister-"Psycho-Biddy"-Klassiker mit Horrorelementen statt, in dem sich zwei damals wirkliche Rivalinnen in der Filmbranche auszeichnen. Joan Crawford als Blanche, die nach einem "Unfall" im Rollstuhl gelandet ist, und Bette Davis als psychisch gestörte Jane, die den Verlust ihres früheren Kinderstar-Ruhms nicht verkraften kann und darum ihre einst berühmtere, aber heute hilflose Schwester terrorisiert. Beide Damen liefern hier exzellente Leistungen ab, dennoch kann ich mich nicht davor hüten, dass die treibende Kraft der Charakter der Baby Jane ist, die immer tiefer in Selbstvorwürfe und Wahnsinn versinkt. Als Pflegerin im Misery Stil ist sie herrlich gemein, sie quält ihre Schwester psychisch und anschließend körperlich, sperrt sie in ein Zimmer und lässt sie hungern. Und natürlich ist sie auch bereit, zu töten, um dieses Geheimnis zu bewahren. Neben der Besetzung muss auch die großartige Kameraarbeit, Beleuchtung, Musik und Ausstattung erwähnt werden. Es ist überraschenderweise keine rein kammerspielartige Angelegenheit, außerhalb ihres Hauses sehen wir zum Beispiel die Stadt und am Ende auch den Strand. Mir fehlte zwar ein kleines bisschen Perfektion, aber dieser Film ist auf jeden Fall zu Recht ein Klassiker.
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Ein Film, dem die Serie Reihe Feud: Bette and Joan (2017) ein Denkmal gesetzt hat. Die Begegnung der beiden ehemaligen Stars ist natürlich interessant, interessant ist auch der Wechsel in ein anderes Genre, das vor dem Krieg ungewöhnlich war. Die Masken sind ausgezeichnet. Auch die retrospektive Rezeption von Filmklassikern, die nach dreißig Jahren wieder im Fernsehen gezeigt werden. Das ist aber auch schon alles. Der ganze Nachkriegsdiskurs darüber, dass wir es besser machen und sie es vorher naiv oder dumm oder uninteressant gemacht haben, ist ausgesprochen komisch. Es ist schwer, ein gutes Melodram mit einem hysterischem Horrorfilm über verlorene Illusionen zu messen.
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“Who the hell was Baby Jane Hudson?” For her, life is theatre. If she isn’t at the centre of events, it’s as if she doesn’t exist. She is also convincing in her new role as a tormentor thanks to the fact that the victim of her (domestic) violence is her own sister, a woman who dared to be more famous. Just the two of them, a large house and the memories in which Jane is imprisoned, just as Blanche is imprisoned in the house (and just as her bird is imprisoned in its cage). Memories of past fame and of a time without television, when the public’s admiration was more valuable than money. And of a father whose authority is newly embodied by Jane herself. Jane will not admit that she has to share favours, especially of the male variety, with her sister, whom she physically abuses particularly at the moments when she feels threatened by a man. Whether it’s Edwin, fixated on his mother like Jane is on her father, or the doctor with his white coat buttoned up to his neck, reminiscent of a scientist from a monster movie due to an overhead shot. ___ Despite the explanatory prologue, however, it is not clear who created the monster called Baby Jane. We don't know enough about the female protagonists to understand the incredible cruelty of one and the partially voluntary passivity of the other. (The claim that the former is a sadist and the latter a masochist makes sense, but is not based on what the film tells us.) Though more straightforwardly shocking than satisfying, the explanation comes just before the end, which, unlike the rest of the film, takes place in an open area, thus escalating Blanche’s helplessness to the limit of tolerability (freedom is within her grasp, and yet she can't reach it). ___ The deficiencies in the psychological profiling of the protagonists and the suspension of plot development in the final third may not be noticeable at first because of the impressiveness of Aldrich’s directing. He combines theatrical stylisation (frontal room shots, lights placed in the foreground, campy makeup) with purely cinematic means of expression (a zoom lens, unconventional angles) while being well aware that the backbone of his psychological monster horror movie (which, unlike classic monster flicks, doesn’t conceal the fact that the titular monster is actually a female person) comprises two Hollywood divas. (Depending on how you look at it, Baby Jane can also be described as, for example, a grand guignol, gothic horror or camp obscurity, but I searched in vain for signs of black comedy in it.) Both of them overact because that was their style (which was already outdated in the 1960s) and because they can. The roles allow it. To be themselves, great actresses. Sincerely and painfully. 80%
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A great horror psycho-thriller about two ageing actresses that is brought down a little by a few screenwriting blunders (did they really have to throw the paper with the message through the window, wouldn’t it have been enough to cry?), but they are easy to overlook. Bette Davis’s performance is chilling, her portrayal of the disturbed Baby Jane is amazing. Something between Misery and Sunset Blvd.
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Solid psychological stew with a rather novel horror feel, certainly one of Stephen King's main sources of inspiration when later writing “Misery”. You just don't see a sisterly relationship this heated, and I'm honestly surprised that the film stands so far out of the audience's interest. The only weaknesses I can see are the weird ending, the slightly excessive runtime and the fact that Bette Davis is such a disgusting hag that it was almost impossible to watch her; as an actress, however, hats off. 80%
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I often forget that movies from 1962 still look like they were made in 1942, and I admit I was never a fan of those theatrically lit studio interiors and nonstop orchestras playing in the background. In this case, the threadbare script grates a little, too, making the garage by the house practically its own character who will pop into the plot at any moment to thwart one of the heroines' efforts at deliverance. But hey, I'm letting it slide because Baby Jane is such a wonderfully imagined, creepy, and still relevant horror character. She mixes personal trauma with pure terror so well that this monster deserves to stand proudly alongside the canonical horror characters she's compared to, but one other thing – the well-paced development of her character from spoiled little girl, to incompetent but tolerated actress, to boozy old rascal clinging ever more closely to her childhood glory. Then when fifty-five-year-old Bette Davis tries to reawaken her learned childlike cuteness through five pounds of makeup, you might as well dial your therapist.
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