One of the many strange
things about this thriller starring Richard Burton as a serial killer whose
victims are his gorgeous wives is that Bluebeard
was released near the apex of the Women’s Lib movement—not exactly the right
moment for a piece about the ultimate misogynist. Similarly, make what you will
of Burton’s casting, seeing as how he shot Bluebeard
toward the end of his first tumultuous marriage to Elizabeth Taylor. Knowing
that Burton had considerable friction with the woman whom he reportedly called
“Miss Tits” lends strange connotations, especially during scenes in which
Burton’s character is repulsed by the sight of bared breasts. Oh, and Bluebeard—which features as much gore
and nudity as the raciest Hammer flicks—was among the final films directed by
Hollywood veteran Edward Dmytryk (The
Caine Mutiny).
Based on the 17th-century story by Charles Perrault but set
during the 1930s, Bluebeard is
about Baron von Sepper (Burton), an Austrian aristocrat whose facial hair
turned blue following exposure to chemicals during a fighter-plane crash in
World War I. (Because that happens.) After the Baron’s current wife dies under
mysterious circumstances, he falls for a spunky American showgirl, Anne (Joey
Heatherton). After they marry, Anne discovers a trove of corpses in the Baron’s
castle, so she persuades the Baron to explain the circumstances of his past
murders in order to buy time before she becomes his latest victim. This prompts
long flashbacks, one per wife.
Tonally, Bluebeard
is so inconsistent that it’s likely each participant thought he or she was
making a different movie. Burton plays his scenes like high camp, as if he’s
Boris Karloff or Vincent Price, while Heatherton purrs and slinks like she’s
starring in a softcore picture. (Although her acting is hilariously bad, she
looks great whether clothed or, as is frequently the case, not.) Supporting
players incarnating the roles of the Baron’s wives/victims deliver a dizzying
range of styles. Nathalie Delon exudes sincerity playing the naïve Erika (that
is, until her steamy lesbian fling with buxom costar Sybil Danning). Virna Lisi croons her way through a cartoonish turn as “The Singer.” And Raquel Welch embarrasses herself with stilted line readings suitable
for a high school play while portraying Magdalena, a nymphomaniac-turned-nun.
The film’s horror aspects are silly, thanks to the use of
unrealistic-looking mannequins for corpses, and the application of cheap
Freudian psychology to explain Bluebeard’s motivations is tacky. As a result, good luck figuring out whether Bluebeard is a failed comedy, a failed thriller, or a horribly
misguided hybrid. Despite all of these faults, however, Bluebeard is weirdly watchable because
of opulent production values, a steady procession of naked beauties, and the
odd rhythms of Burton’s performance, which has moments of credible intensity
amid overall hamminess. Capping the whole psychosexual experience is a gonzo
musical score by the inimitable Ennio Morricone.
Bluebeard:
FREAKY