A taut, suspense thriller with the undertones of gothic horror and two remarkable central performances. Bette Davis and Joan Crawford play two ageing sisters, Jane and Blanche, who live together in a decaying Beverley Hills mansion. Jane was a child vaudeville star with their father who doted on her but she failed to make it as an adult movie actress. Whereas Blanche, ignored by her father, did become a much beloved film star but after an incident in their car was left paralysed from the waist down. Now Jane, out of a deep rooted jealousy, embittered, alcoholic and bordering on psychosis torments Blanche who is unable to leave her room. As Jane's madness becomes more extreme Blanche is desperate to get help but has no way of communicating with anyone outside the house. Filmed in black and white the film has the feel of a haunted house story and Davis' caked make up makes her a grotesque and frightening figure whilst there are elements of her performance that draw in sympathy, it is an outstanding performance. The story is a dig at the Hollywood lifestyle and the destruction that celebrity and fame can cause and in that sense there's a sort of irony in the casting of two of America's major female stars from the classic years of Hollywood. Crawford is equally good here, a former glamour actress she almost plays herself but shows the vulnerability of her character in her desperation to control her sister's more violent rages. This is a dark tale, wonderfully directed and controlled to build the tension. It's a masterpiece of 60s American cinema and definitely a film you should see.
The image of this film seems to have been swallowed up by the saga of its two elderly stars. A legend has grown around the rivalry of Bette Davis and Joan Crawford which nourishes the film's eccentric horror, which in turn fortifies the myth of their enmity.
Baby Jane Hudson was a child star in the era of vaudeville, the sort of awful, sentimentalised poppet that was popular in America between the wars. Her sister Blanche was a popular actor in thirties Hollywood making the kind of women's pictures that Bette and Joan starred in back then. So the story goes, Jane paralysed Blanche with a car when she was drunk, out of jealousy. But maybe Blanche has something to hide.
Thirty years on, Jane (Davis) is going crazy. She is tormenting Blanche (Crawford) who is trapped in a wheelchair within a room of her ancient Hollywood mansion. They are the freakish old-Hollywood figures, hidden away from the California sun in their dusty mausoleum, that Gloria Swanson was in Sunset Blvd. Crawford suffers effectively, but Davis is phenomenal as a dissolute, spiteful monster, regressing back to Baby Jane, and protecting her illusions with the tools to hand.
Victor Bueno makes an impression as another grotesque, the venal, obsequious pianist Jane enlists to recreate her old musical act. To be her new daddy. Robert Aldrich creates a rich environment, of the airless, antiquated cage that the former stars inhabit, and the sunlit materialism of the unfamiliar, normal life that goes on beyond their door. But this is Bette's film. She gives an uninhibited, once in a lifetime performance, making Baby Jane Hudson one of the legends of American Gothic.