Strait-Jacket

Strait-Jacket (1964)

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STRAIT-JACKET

Reviewed by Heather Picker

Directed by William Castle. Written by Robert Bloch. Starring Joan Crawford and Diane Baker, with Leif Erickson, George Kennedy and Rochelle Hudson. 1964, 93 minutes, Not Rated.

"It all started on a hot, sticky Saturday night," young Carol Harbin (Diane Baker) tells her boyfriend, Mike. Hmm, I'm so a child of the '80s that writing Carol and Mike made me think of "Growing Pains." I shouldn't have admitted that. I feel so exposed. Um, what? Oh yeah, the hot, sticky Saturday night. It wasn't a good night for Carol, who was a wee lass of three being played by an obviously older actress when her father, Frank (Lee Majors, uncredited in his first film appearance), met an ex-girlfriend at a roadside bar and brought her back home for some extramarital lovin'.

Carol's mom, Lucy (Joan Crawford) was away on a trip when all of this was happening. A trip she decided to cut short. Without telling Frank. She gets of the train and happily primps on her way to the house, eager to see her husband. Lucy sees him all right, in bed (asleep) with his ex. Cue the suspenseful music as the crazed, jilted wife grabs a handy ax and proceeds to chop the hell out of Frank and company. Carol explains she found a new home with her Uncle Bill and Aunt Emily. As for Lucy, on new meds after twenty years in the asylum, the doctors think she's ready to join the outside world.

Cut to Lucy again stepping off a train. She's older now, with gray hair and a hardened face. All in six and a half minutes. Mother and daughter are reunited; they embrace and Crawford does what she does best (besides scarring children for life) and cries. And cries and cries and cries. They make small talk. Carol shares her love of sculpture with her mother, and the two reminisce as music that's quite possibly from a feminine hygiene product commercial swells in the background. Aw, mother-daughter bonding. I know that one time my mom caught my dad in bed with another woman and went all Lizzie Borden on their asses in front of me, it was really nothing. We went out for ice cream the next day after school. But I digress.

Since this is a Castle film, Lucy quickly shows signs of not being cured. She stares longingly at knives and has the type of scared, defensive posture you'd expect of someone who has been locked up for the past two decades. She looks like a grandma. An agoraphobic, slightly older than middle-aged alcoholic grandma who likes to behead people, or at the very least get into drunken barroom brawls. She is hesitant to meet Carol's boyfriend; she thinks it's too big of a step too soon. With the help of a drink or two that fear subsides, and soon she's coming on to an embarrassed Michael. Uh oh, I think I know where this is heading. (Hee! Heading!)

Soon heads are rolling and Lucy's on the run from her worried family. I won't reveal the ending, which is obvious to anyone who pays attention (and quite possibly those who don't), but I will say that Castle covers this familiar ground well. His best decision was undoubtedly casting Crawford, a move inspired by What Ever Happened to Baby Jane, which he was said to have seen 17 times. Crawford doesn't just own Strait-Jacket, she owns everything in a five mile radius. Her performance is remarkable and nuanced in its own garish way: mean and hard-edged, she stalks like the set like a prisoner pacing a cell and flashes hurt and madness and tenderness in her eyes, and effectively uses her body, with hunched shoulders and shaking fists, to convey Lucy's inner torment. It's the kind of overwrought work that under a "respected" director could have earned Crawford acclaim. (Note: Nowhere in that sentence did I claim she'd have deserved it...)

Diane Baker holds her own as Carol. She's upstaged by Crawford during her one big moment, but that sort of thing was beyond her control. The rest of the cast, which includes Leif Erickson, who had a cool name, George Kenney and Rochelle Hudson, has little to do and does less with it. Does that make sense? I think it did, but it's the middle of the night and my judgment is impaired. The script, from Psycho author Robert Bloch, is predictable but tidy: the plot contrivances aren't that contrived. Pretty good for a project that originated when Castle asked him to write an ax murderess role for an aging actress. Cinematography by Arthur E. Arling (I'll Cry Tomorrow), whom I mention out of Missouri pride, if such a thing exists, and I'm halfway sure it does. Oh, and keep your eye on the Columbia image at the end. You'll laugh your head off. (I know. I'll shut up now.)

DVD Details: Neat-o DVD from Columbia, widescreen (1.85:1 aspect ratio) with an anamorphic transfer. There's a bit of grain and blacks are a little not quite black at times, but mostly the film looks great. The mono soundtrack is, well, a mono soundtrack. Nothing much there, but you get what you need.

Blah blah blah, interactive menus, scene selections, English, French, Spanish and Portuguese subtitles. To the good part: There is some nice supplementary material, including the 14 minute featurette "Battle-Ax: The Making of Strait-Jacket," which has interviews with the same contributors to the Homicidal featurette, in addition to entertaining, insightful comments from Diane Baker who talks about everything from her casting to cold sets (kept that way to preserve the tightness of Crawford's skin) littered with Pepsi products to an aging Crawford's private pain (I felt like Barbara Walters writing that) to the star's egomaniacal influence on the film's ending. There are also 3 fascinating minutes of costume and makeup test footage which show Crawford smoking, emoting, and holding a dog, a 30 second ax-swinging screen test and trailers for Strait-Jacket, 13 Ghosts and Mr. Sardonicus. Recommended.

Availability: Strait-Jacket is available on video and DVD.

Related reading: Castle aficionados will want to track down a copy of his autobiography, Step Right Up!: ... I'm Gonna Scare the Pants Off America, which is currently out of print.

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