Queering Cinema: 'Hag Horror' – What Becomes a Legend Least?

In 1962, Bette Davis took out an ad in the Hollywood Reporter. It read:

Whether the ad was serious or not has always been in question. Baum, her agent, dismissed it at the time as a joke. "I was an important agent, she was a big star, and I wasn't going looking for work for her. That was not exactly the position I expected to be in at that point in my career – or her career. She was never out of work, but she was concerned about where her career was going. So she placed the ad. Everyone was laughing – it was a joke. Bette Davis looking for a job? It didn't make sense! But she was serious about it. She felt she needed work. It just wasn't as dire a circumstance as she portrayed it in the ad."

In fact, just days before Davis had completed shooting on "Whatever Happened to Baby Jane?," the film that would usher in the final phase of her career, including a number of movies in the genre known as "Hag Horror," a crude term that writer Caroline Young owns in her book "Crazy Old Ladies: The Story Of Hag Horror." Davis is something of the grand dame of the genre, and "Baby Jane" was a career saver. She received her 11th (and last) Oscar nomination (losing to Anne Bancroft, whose Oscar was accepted on stage by Joan Crawford, Davis's long-time rival and "Baby Jane" co-star). That they didn't get along is an understatement, and was wonderfully told on the Ryan Murphy-produced "Feud," a series that featured some of the women cited by Young: Davis, Crawford, Olivia deHavilland, Joan Fontaine. Young's canon also includes Tallulah Bankhead, who lamented while filming "Die! Die! My Darling": "Oh my! Wasn't I beautiful?' . . . And look at me now! It all goes, doesn't it. You can't hold on to it."

Whatever it is, it dissolves into camp – self-referential gestures that would become the grist for drag performers, most notably by Davis, then – post-"Mommie Dearest" – for Crawford. Why they took the roles in B-movies was answered by director George Cukor: "Of course she rationalized what she did," director George Cukor said of Crawford. "Joan even lied to herself. She would write to me about these pictures, actually believing that they were quality scripts. You could never tell her they were garbage. She was a star, and this was her next picture. She had to keep working, as did Bette."

But as Myrna Loy – another actress who felt the chill of being middle-aged in Hollywood – wondered, "Is it worth playing all those demented old ladies to maintain that status?" Loy worked until the early 1980s, and worked less in films after 1950, turning her attention to progressive political activism.

Young writes in the book's forward: "While these 'Hag Horror' films, of mixed quality, were seen to be a low career point, many of the actresses enjoyed showcasing their acting skills to play complex, twisted characters. After all, it could be fun to camp it up, wield an axe and drag a dead body. 'Hag Horror' was successful on two points – it appealed to the nostalgia of older moviegoers who wished to relive their youth by seeing their favorite icons on screen, and for younger horror audiences who watched these aging stars with a degree of irony. What could be more appealing than seeing these former A-list stars, who had only appeared in heavily-censured films of the past, now being tortured on screen or wielding sharp objects?"

For Young, it starts with "Sunset Boulevard."

Sunset Boulevard

What's telling about this Billy Wilder Hollywood satire of is that Gloria Swanson was 51 years old when she played the 60-year-old Norma Desmond. Due to her healthy lifestyle, she looked a decade younger, which led Wilder to worry that the age difference between William Holden, the 31-year-old actor hired to play the screenwriter who falls in her thrall, wouldn't appear strong enough. When told that she must be made to look older, Swanson snapped that Holden should be made to look younger. Lines were eventually placed on Swanson's forehead, and her performance stunned Hollywood as it blurred the lines between fact and fiction. But, unlike her desperate movie queen, Swanson was no Hollywood recluse: After an unsuccessful attempt at talkies after the silent era ended, she settled in New York and worked steadily, doing radio and television when Wilder contacted her. She nearly didn't take the part because she was asked to take a screen test.

What makes "Sunset Boulevard" an example of "hag horror" is how Norma's frustrations echoed those of other Hollywood actresses in terms of access to roles. Myrna Loy, one of the 1930s and 1940s leading stars, said in the 1950s: "The studio no longer cared about us." Added Loy: "They kept us locked into our old images while they concentrated on giving the good roles to newcomers. If we complained they had ways of forcing us out, of making us quit." Rather than the "comeback" she had hoped for, Swanson became locked into the image of Desmond and never escaped it, becoming a camp version of herself the rest of her career, such as in "Airport 1975." She even toyed with her own musical version of "Sunset" in the early 1950s. The musical's backstory was told by documentary filmmaker Jeffrey Schwartz ("I am Divine") in "Boulevard," his 2021 film. Other big names looked to make a musical version, including Kander and Ebb and Stephen Sondheim, who felt it should be an opera. The property was musicalized in 1993 by Andrew Lloyd Webber, who may be getting the last laugh by detractors who consider him old-fashioned with a sensationally reviewed revival currently in the West End starring former Pussycat Girl Nicole Scherzinger.

What Ever Happened to Baby Jane?

The film that started the subgenre brought together Davis and Crawford as sisters living in a Hollywood mansion. Crawford was once a major Hollywood star, but retired after an accident made her an invalid. Davis was a child star in vaudeville, but didn't transition to film and resented her more successful sister. After the accident, Davis becomes Crawford's caretaker (if she can be called that) – a cartoonish caricature of a middle-aged woman attempting to look like her younger self, something of a grotesque Norma Desmond.

"'Baby Jane' is the very definition of camp," said Young. What else can be said for a movie in which Davis serves Crawford a dead rat for dinner? The film's shoot was legendary for bringing out the mutual dislike between the actresses, which was wonderfully presented in Ryan Murphy's first season of "Feud." But for its two stars, both in their mid 50s, just getting the roles was something of an accomplishment in sexist Hollywood. When director Robert Aldrich pitched the script to Warner Brothers – the studio that both Davis and Crawford ruled over at various points – studio head Jack Warner said, "I wouldn't give a dime for those two washed up old bitches." But Davis got the last laugh: Two years later she was working for Warners again on "Dead Ringer."

Dead Ringer

Post-"Baby Jane," both Davis and Crawford were inundated with more horror scripts, but "Dead Ringer" gave Davis a chance to revisit a device used in one of her earlier films, "A Stolen Life," in which she played twin sisters. In both films, one sister dies and the other takes her place; but where "A Stolen Life" had some nuance, "Dead Ringer" is a crudely told noir with Davis offering two campy caricatures of herself. In the early scenes, in which a wealthy sister befriends her down-on-her-luck twin, Davis is at her most mannered. After the rich sister is killed, the poor one takes her place, but finds the deception far more complicated than she imagined. She goes to extremes to maintain her disguise, burning her hand to keep from signing documents and standing by while a Great Dane murders Peter Lawford. Cinematographer Ernest Haller, who had shot "A Stolen Life," uses more advanced techniques to film the scenes of Davis as both sisters. Director Paul Henreid, the actor who famously worked with Crawford in "Now, Voyager," thought Davis's performance Oscar-worthy, but the film wasn't received as a prestige project. The New York Times wrote the film was an "uncommonly silly little film, but it is great fun to watch," adding that Davis evoked "sheer cinematic personality on the rampage, in a performance that, while hardly discreet, is certainly arresting. Deadly as her films may be, Bette Davis, the star, is very much alive."

Straight Jacket

Joan Crawford knew how important staying in the public eye was, but it is doubtful that anyone would have predicted that the star would precede screenings of "Straight Jacket" with a personal appearance in which she carried a cardboard axe. (Whether her daughter Christina accompanied her and Joan said "Bring me the axe" before a performance is not known.) After "Baby Jane," Crawford met William Castle, the schlockmeister famous for B-horrors with unusual gimmicks. For "House on Haunted Hill," he sent a skeleton flying over the heads of theater-goers; for "The Tingler," he wired some seats that received a low jolt of electricity at a key moment. For "Straight Jacket," he had one of Hollywood's biggest movie stars who, inexplicably, was box office gold again – and a star most willing to travel the country to promote the film. In it she played a middle-aged woman released from prison after serving time for the ax-murder of her cheating husband. Crawford pulls out all the stops in playing what turns out to be two roles: The contrite ex-con and a sexy throwback to a younger version of herself, who attempts to seduce her daughter's boyfriend in the film's funniest scene. "Straight Jacket" was a hit, and was the first step down in Crawford's race to the bottom with two follow-ups: "Beserk" and "Trog!" "All the pictures I did after 'Baby Jane' were terrible," Crawford lamented shortly before she passed away in May, 1977.

Die! Die! My Darling!

Despite having a string of prestige stage successes from the 1920s to the 1960s, Tallulah Bankhead was never a Hollywood star. She tried to become one when sound came in, but she never could convey what was so compelling on stage in screen roles. Only with Alfred Hitchcock's "Lifeboat" did she show her acting chops onscreen. Instead, the theater in New York and London became her home, where she starred in numerous prestigious successes such as "The Little Foxes" and "Dark Victory." But when Hollywood bought those titles, the roles went to Davis. Davis was said to even go as far as to study Bankhead for her characterization of Margo Channing in "All About Eve." (The similarities are remarkable.)

By the mid-1950s, Bankhead was no longer taken seriously as an actress, despite her intentions to do so. Her claque – mostly gay men – would come to her performances to laugh at her mannerisms, despite her intention to take her acting seriously. At one performance of "A Streetcar Named Desire," she pleaded with a raucous audience to give her a chance, but they would not. She had become Dame Camp. By 1965, she made her final film, called "Fanatic" in Great Britain and "Die! Die! My Darling" in the States. (It was a title she hated because she felt it capitalized on her famous catchphrase.) In the film, Bankhead plays a middle-aged religious fanatic who deludes herself into thinking her late son's fiancée caused his death and sets out for revenge. Bankhead actually received decent reviews – the LA Times even wrote she deserved an Oscar nomination – but she personally hated it. She apologized to friends for "looking older than God's wet nurse" (she wore no makeup and was in constant close-up), calling the film itself "a piece of shit." But in a positive review, Variety wrote that the film gave Bankhead "numerous chances to display virtuosity, from sweet-tongued menace to maniacal blood-lust." Another wrote: "One suspects here a laudable determination in Miss Bankhead not to be outdone by Bette Davis' Baby Jane."

Hush, Hush Sweet Charlotte

1n 1964 Olivia deHavilland was convinced by director Robert Aldrich and star Bette Davis to take over Joan Crawford's role in "Hush, Hush, Sweet Charlotte." Crawford was said to be sick, and location shooting of the film in Louisiana was halted until a replacement could be found. deHavilland was reluctant, later saying: "I wasn't thrilled with the script, and I definitely didn't like my part. I was reverse-typecast, being asked to be an unsympathetic villain. It wasn't what people expected of me. It wasn't really what I wanted to do. Bette wanted it so much, so I did it. I can't say I regretted it, because working with her was special, but I can't say it was a picture I am proud to put on my resume. Given the choice, I wouldn't have deprived Joan Crawford of the honor."

The film was meant to be something of a sequel to "Baby Jane," with Bette Davis playing a recluse in an abandoned Louisiana mansion that's about to be torn down and Crawford as her duplicitous cousin out to steal Davis's inheritance. The final film isn't so much Southern Gothic as Southern fried ham, with ludicrously over-the-top performances by Davis and Agnes Moorehead. deHavilland, on the other hand, gives a measured turn as the cousin out to swindle Davis of her inheritance.

Lady in a Cage

There may have been a personal reason for deHavilland to take the role in "Hush, Hush, Sweet Charlotte," but why did she do "Lady in a Cage?" In this vicious 1964 thriller, she plays a wealthy widow who is suspended in a cage-like elevator after a power failure. Her cries for help only bring a gang of thugs, led by Alpha-male sociopath James Caan and a blowsy prostitute (Anne Southern). Caan and his thugs proceed to torture deHavilland as she attempts to free herself from her confinement. The film did little to enhance deHavilland's career. Variety wrote at the time: "Olivia de Havilland plays the unfortunate woman in the elevator, and gives one of those ranting, raving, wild-eyed performances often thought of as Academy Award oriented. Actually, the role appears to require more emotional stamina than histrionic deftness." When released, it was attacked by the New York Times, who called the film "dangerous" and "a sheer projection of sadism and violence for violence sake." But producer and writer Luther Davis defended the film as a social commentary on the random, often vicious violence creeping into American life. His film, though, wasn't taken seriously and became another example of the growing "hag horror" genre.

The Devil's Own

deHavilland's sister Joan Fontaine also indulged in starring in B-movie horror, but went to England's Hammer Studios to do so. Frustrated at the lack of roles offered her in Hollywood, the 48-year-old Oscar winner bought the rights to an occult thriller, "The Devil's Own," and offered it to Hammer to produce if she would star. The shooting was fraught with problems, largely due to Fontaine becoming ill and confined to her bed. In the film she plays a teacher recovering from a trauma involving African witchcraft. She recuperates in a quiet British village, only to begin to believe that she is amongst a coven of witches. Perhaps the scariest thing in the film is Fontaine's tortured hairstyle, and the story falls apart towards the end. It is then that British actress Kay Walsh takes over in an insane turn as the coven's leader. While Fontaine offers cool skepticism of witches, Walsh is so deliciously over-the-top that its climax is a camp heaven. Despite Fontaine's best intentions, the film did not rejuvenate Fontaine's career.

Greta

In her book's conclusion, Young writes: "The 'Hag Horror' subgenre of movies may be one that is aligned with the sixties and seventies, but the themes of the movies, of tragic spinsters, damaging mothers and terrifying crones is one that has lived on in many guises." One example from this century, "Greta" (2016), stars Isabelle Huppert – one of France's finest actresses -- in the sort of role that Davis and Crawford would have played decades earlier. In this thriller, Huppert plays a wealthy New York émigré who loses her expensive green pocketbook on the subway. When a young woman (Chloë Grace Moretz) returns it to Greta at her Brooklyn home, Greta locks her away. This B-movie hokum was directed by Irish director Neil Jordan. In reviewing the film in the New Yorker, Anthony Lane said the only reason to see the film is Huppert. " 'Greta' is still worth seeing, for the sake of Isabelle Huppert: An A-grade performer, by any standard, as shown in the rigors of 'The Piano Teacher' (2001) and the vengeful perversity of 'Elle' (2016). After films like those, her new role is a breeze, and what she brings to it is not studious agony but a gusty sense of play. Onscreen, Huppert has always been full of the joys of both winter and spring – of the frosty and the sportive – and Greta offers a generous dose of each."

X

Ty West's "X" takes "Hag Horror" full circle. The first in a trilogy that star the extraordinary Mia Goth, the film is a sly, grisly commentary on movie making, sexuality, and madness. Goth plays two roles Maxine – a dreamy porn star wannabe who joins a group of porn filmmakers making a movie on a Texas farm in 1979. Her other role is that of Pearl, one-half of the elderly couple who own the farm. If "X" had been a major studio movie (it was released by indie upstart A24), it would likely have cast a younger actress as Maxine and an older one – Diane Keaton, perhaps – as Pearl. Her character would then have been informed by the actress's famous persona and become instant camp, with her character overwhelmed by its performer. Instead West reversed the "hag horror" formula by casting Goth as Pearl. To do so, then 28-year-old Goth spent hours each day having the extensive prosthetics applied to her body. And far from being a recognizable, if haggard Hollywood actor, Goth brought a zeal and believability to the homicidal Pearl, who experiences a sexual awakening when surreptitiously watching the X-rated filming. Pearl is a monster, to be sure, but oddly empathetic, largely through Goth's remarkable performance.

Critic Celia Mattison, writing about "X" in BuzzFeed News, saw the parallels to "Hag Horror." Or, as Mattison puts it, the "'psycho-biddy' horror trope exemplified by movies like 'Whatever Happened to Baby Jane? '(1962), 'Sunset Boulevard' (1950), and even 'Snow White' (1937). The 'psycho-biddy' is an older, unstable woman whose violence is activated by jealousy, sexual desire, and resentment. Her ire is often focused on young women, whose youth and beauty she openly envies. The genre is a complicated response to Hollywood's ageism and its one-dimensional view of women actors as maiden, mother, or crone. It both comments on and exploits the anxieties – as they are perceived by male filmmakers – that women have about their value in a youth-oriented culture."

She adds: "The 'psycho-biddy' genre has been maligned as anti-feminist – unsurprising from a genre also cheekily referred to as 'hagsploitation.' Films with this trope have been accused of fetishizing female youth and beauty and demonizing older women, especially older women who openly seek sexual pleasure."

"Hag Horror" as a genre persists today largely on television, revitalizing the careers of such actresses as Jessica Lange, Kathy Bates, and Patti LuPone. But it is no longer a genre in disrepute – Ryan Murphy and his "American Horror Story" franchise has elevated it to a level of award-winning prestige. And no doubt if alive and 50 today, Davis, Crawford, and their grand peers would be streaming in something scary.