Bewitched

No need to repeat the plot. The force behind the movie is Arch Oboler, an established radio heavyweight at the time. From his credits, it looks like he kept searching for a handle in Hollywood but never quite found it. Certainly, it wasn't from lack of imagination—his 1951 film "Five" dealt with nuclear post-apocalypse in a resourceful and compelling way at a time when no studio would touch the subject. That same bold imagination is evident in this movie as well. The professionals dismiss the film as "heavy-handed", which it is. However, there are compensations that are too easily overlooked.

Aside from Thaxter's fine performance, the movie contains several profoundly imaginative touches. Catch that moody dollying shot down the deserted city street that finally fixes on a cringing Thaxter hiding behind an open doorway. Not only is it great atmosphere, but it also sort of sums up Thaxter's predicament. She's afraid to come out into the world for risk of immediate exposure, so she clings fearfully to a hidden world where only she exists. It's a well-conceived and artfully executed passage. Then there's that darn-near sublime set-up with Thaxter huddled in a concert hallway while we see a long-shot of a vocalist pinpointed by a thin beam of light. The woman intones a mournful version of My Old Kentucky Home, like the proverbial voice in the darkened wilderness. It may be the only glimpse we get of Thaxter's true inner self, summed up poetically.

But the overly literal side does unfortunately predominate, and I wish someone had more confidence in audience imagination. For one thing, that would have eliminated the two hokey doppelgangers in the exorcism scene. Also, the conventional happy ending is much too pat for the problem being dealt with, but is indicative of the time. And if I'm not mistaken, there's a quick reference from Gwenn to Thaxter's problem as being genetic, as if a multiple personality trait can be passed along in the genes. I'm no clinical psychologist, but I doubt seriously this is the prevailing view. Anyway, it's too bad Oboler couldn't get a better handle on Hollywood. I think his credits showed genuine promise. This movie may be unfortunately flawed (perhaps because of studio dictates), but the very real compensations should not be overlooked.

This is a bold film for its time because it tackles mental illness head on - in this case multiple personality syndrome. Thaxter is quite good as the sweet young girl occasionally taken over by the evil Karin (voiced brilliantly by Audrey Totter). Unfortunately the director takes it all far too seriously, and his constant cut-aways to grim or shocked reaction shots becomes comical. You really feel for the actors. Thank God for the wonderful Edmund Gwenn, who is the only actor who makes the material almost believable. And what a great psychiatrist he is - he can cure multiple personality syndrome in a matter of seconds, just by talking sternly to the evil side! Some nice visual moments and the uniqueness of the material make this film worth a look.

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!

A woman on death row is discovered to have a split personality in "Bewitched," a 1945 film starring Phyllis Thaxter, Edmund Gwenn, and Stephen McNally. Thaxter is a young, soon to be wed woman who has blackouts, walks around at night, and hears voices. She runs away from her parents' home and her husband to be and goes to New York, gets a job, and meets an attorney (McNally) who falls for her. Her fiancé finds her, and, under orders from her other personality (voiced by Audrey Totter), she kills him.

Now we're brought back to death row where Edmund Gwenn suspects her problem and wants to hypnotize her.

Boring film with a good cast nonetheless, psychiatric disorders being a fashionable subject during and after World War II. What made Three Faces of Eve interesting was that the main character was a woman with a dull affect, but her personalities had lots of spark. Just hearing the voice of Totter here isn't enough. If Thaxter had actually been taken over by her alternate personality and, say, lived as her in New York, the film would have been a lot more interesting.

Not very good.

Bewitched is written and directed by Arch Oboler. It stars Phyllis Thaxter, Edmund Gwenn, Henry H. Daniels, Addison Richards, Horace McNally and Kathleen Lockhart. Music is by Bronislau Kaper and cinematography by Charles Salerno Jr.

One of the most interesting of splinters to come out of film noir was that which dealt with psychoanalysis. Be it mentally scarred war veterans, amnesia sufferers with locked in repression, or a victim being pushed to the mental abyss by an outside force, the state of mind factor was ripe for any sort of film noir sheen.

What was under represented were films that dealt with mental illness' like schizophrenia or multiple (split) personalities. History tells us that Hollywood took a long time to get to grips with such topics, very much resorting to guesswork (and sometimes laughable) solutions to mental health issues just to close out the movies with a happy outcome.

It would take until 1957 and Three Faces of Eve (and to a lesser extent Hugo Haas' Lizzie released the same year) for the personality disorder issue to break out of Hollywood and into the public conscious. But even then with "Eve", if you take out Joanne Woodward's spell binding performance you are left with some mumbo-jumbo and a daft resolution to the curing of the patient.

So where does this leave Bewitched in 1945? Transferred from radio to the big screen by Oboler, from his own story titled Alter Ego, Bewitched suffers from the same simplified problems of so many like minded sub-genre movies, in that the resolution ("cure") is just so hard to get on board with. However...

If allowing the film some grace for the time it was made, then there's a very good picture here. Clocking in at just over an hour, it certainly feels and plays like one of those extended episodes of The Twilight Zone from Season 4, but the atmospherics and lead performances of cast members ensure this is fascinating and suspenseful entertainment.

Plot essentially sees Thaxter as troubled Joan Alris Ellis, who after starting to hear a sinister voice in her head (voiced by noir darling Audrey Totter), flees to New York to start afresh, leaving behind family and her intended husband to be. After becoming involved in a warm relationship with Eric Russell (McNally), Joan finds that the voice, her alter ego, is not going to go away and urges Joan to commit murder.

Pic unfolds in a flashback structure, Joan is awaiting execution and we learn how she came to be in this situation. Oboler and Salerno film the piece through a film noir prism, ensuring that a disquiet mood is prevalent throughout. As the lens' mist up and shadows fall (99% of film is set in darkness or daylight as darkness), the visuals marry up nicely with poor Joan's befuddlement.

Oboler is guilty of letting the piece meander at times, as it often becomes over talky (the radio origins practically scream from the speakers!), but he has a very sharp eye for an evocative scene, and he's also capable of telling tech flourishes. Joan running down a street lit by bulbous lamps is straight out of noirville, distorted angles come and go, and clocks feature prominently, like Old Nick is right there counting down the seconds on every clock face.

Then it's that resolution. Simplified for sure, but not without eeriness personified as Joan's femme fatale alter ego arrives on the scene in a clear case of angel and demon perched on either side of the hapless patient. With Thaxter excelling with her haunted portrayal, Gwenn exuding assurance unbound, and Kaper (Gaslight) drifting a creeping menace like musical score over the proceedings, the impact garnered belies the "B" budget afforded the play. 7.5/10