AnnieLola

Editing my original take. Well, I spoke too soon about this really being filmed in Paris-- didn't check the location. Hungary! I thought it didn't look much like Paris, but while I've been there I didn't see every part of it.

So now the show is updated to the present day. For those who appreciated the period setting in other Maigrets, this is disappointing and makes the show a bit hard to distinguish from many other modern crime dramas. Plus Maigret is no longer a character role, but a standard issue handsome hunk. In fact, our first view of him is emerging from his bed clad only in underdrawers. Sure, he looks good, but it ain't Maigret, who is one of the great character crime-solvers, like Poirot, Rumpole, Morse... Some of the familiar formula is there, and I guess it's not so bad turning some of his team into women, but really, why even use the name? It just seems like another sexy-guy cop show. To be fair, it should be able to find its audience, and it appears that some people think it's great-- I'm just not one of them. In fact it didn't quite hold my interest and I actually fell asleep. So maybe I missed some good parts. I just now took off points for it not being shot in Paris.

I'm giving this a seven, because it's cinematically well crafted. I was very interested to see how it would end, given that the Production Code ensured that virtue would be rewarded-- so would the Code let anyone get away with murder?

The film's theme of split personality suffers from a profound ignorance of that disorder's mechanics, and confuses it with certain forms of schizophrenia, an error still common today. Schizophrenia is a psychosis, a mental illness treatable with medication, while Multiple Personality Disorder, now known as Dissociative Identity Disorder, is an acquired condition usually formed as a survival mechanism after unbearable trauma. In Bewitched it manifests more like demonic possession.

Dissociative Identity was first identified in the 1880s, but was still largely a mystery to many people. The idea of split personality readily leant itself to dramatic portrayal, especially onscreen, and this served to familiarize more of the general public with the condition. There was Blanche Sweet in "The Case of Becky" (1915) from the stage success by that name, remade in 1918 as "The Two-Soul Woman" with Priscilla Dean. Still to come were Constance Binney in a remake of "The Case of Becky" in 1921, followed by Gladys Walton in "The Untameable" (1923). Barbara La Marr took on a new treatment of the theme in "Sandra" (1924). More familiar today would of course be 1957's "The Three Faces of Eve" and later titles.

I couldn't help wondering why the poor girl never mentioned hearing that nasty voice in her head. Of course she didn't want people thinking she was CRAZY, so she just went on acting really disturbed, which had to suggest that she was-- well, DISTURBED.

The story makes no sense in psychological terms, so it's best not to worry about its half-baked medical aspects. Just figure that this nice girl somehow picked up a demon who wanted to take over. The demon 'Karen' is a vicious maneating floosy, itching to be set loose upon the world, and giving her Audrey Totter's voice makes her truly scary. If Karen ever got more than a few moments in control, woe to us all!

Lynn Loring's Laurie comes across as quite a nasty piece o' work, I must say. Must have been fun to play this role and get to chew the scenery! Laurie seems less disturbed than crazed, really psychotic. Lucky for her that her father loves her (poor guy), because she's not very likeable, though one shudders to think what medical science of the day would have put her through in attempting a 'cure'.

I find these older TV westerns hard to watch nowadays, though I gobbled them up as a child. Ignorance was indeed bliss. So much is inaccurate or just plain fake! The brilliant indoor lighting, the obvious switches between sound stage 'outdoors' and outdoor locations, and women's anachronistic hair, makeup and clothing really tax one's ability to achieve that 'willing suspension of disbelief' that makes stories on stage and screen seem convincing.

Laurie, with her fluffy sprayed hair, goes to bed in the false eyelashes that were all too prevalent in these shows, even for pioneer women and obviously white 'Indians'. When the girl is starting to fall apart and Papa puts her to bed, the lashes are missing, making her look weak and helpless-- but a few minutes later when she reappears in the barn they've miraculously been restored, though with red shadow on her lower eyelids for a really gonzo look.

All in all a pretty strange episode, and the title is rather unfortunate. But interesting!