Joan Crawford Slashers

Strait-Jacket

Berserk!

Good day, good evening, and good morrow, dear readers. As we slowly approach October I’ve struggled to find interest in watching movies that are not horror or, at least, not horror-adjacent. I can watch a thriller, horror, psychosexual terror-filled show or movie any time of year, but when September comes to an end and the sun hangs lower in the sky, my craving for creepy media really begins to set in. I cannot help kicking off scary movie season just a tad early, so as we’ve done in years past, we’re getting into the horror holiday spirit a little early by watching some dark and strange cinema in the lead-up to my favorite month of the year. And I cannot think of a better figure to start with than the accidental mother of mid-century macabre thrillers—the captivating actress, dazzling style icon, and terrifying parental figure who was always swimming in controversies: Joan Crawford. Born Lucille Fay LeSueur, in San Antonio, Texas, Joan was raised mostly by her mother Anna and stepfather Henry Cassin. Mr. Cassin ran an opera house in Oklahoma, where Joan loved watching the vaudeville shows, but the family had to relocate to Missouri after he was blacklisted and accused of embezzlement. In 1922, Joan registered at Stephens College in Columbia, Missouri (giving her year of birth as 1906) but after a few months, she left school. She always dreamed of being a dancer, and under the (much cooler) name Lucille LeSueur, Crawford began dancing in the choruses of traveling revues—eventually being spotted by producer Jacob J. Shubert. Shubert put her in the chorus line for his 1924 Broadway show, Innocent Eyes, where she met a saxophone player named James Welton. They were allegedly married in 1924, and lived together for several months, although Joan never spoke about it later in life. In late 1924 MGM offered Crawford a contract at $75 a week, where MGM publicity head Pete Smith recognized her ability to become a major star, but felt her name sounded fake; telling studio head Louis B. Mayer that her last name, LeSueur, reminded him of a sewer. Smith organized a contest called "Name the Star" in Movie Weekly to allow readers to select her new stage name. The initial choice was "Joan Arden", but there was another actress who already claimed that name, so it became “Crawford”. [Joan later said that she wanted her first name to be pronounced Jo-Anne, and that she hated the name Crawford because it sounded like "crawfish".] Frustrated over the size and quality of the parts she was given, Crawford embarked on a campaign of self-promotion. Her role in Our Dancing Daughters skyrocketed her stardom and established her as a symbol of “modern 1920s feminine style” who rivaled the original it-girl and flapper, Clara Bow. F. Scott Fitzgerald literally said:

“ Joan Crawford is doubtless the best example of the flapper, the girl you see in smart night clubs, gowned to the apex of sophistication, toying iced glasses with a remote, faintly bitter expression, dancing deliciously, laughing a great deal, with wide, hurt eyes. Young things with a talent for living.”.

But as Joan described herself, “If you want to see the girl next door, go next door."

She transitioned from silent film to talkies with ease, eventually trading in her flapper persona for something newer, bolder, and more sophisticated. But in 1938, Crawford—along with Greta Garbo, Katharine Hepburn, Fred Astaire, Delores del Rio and others—was dubbed “Box Office Poison” in the Independent Film Journal. Joan made a comeback in 1939 with her role in The Women and a year later, she adopted her first child, a daughter who was temporarily called “Joan” until Crawford changed her name to Christina. [Christina would eventually write the tell-all novel Mommie Dearest, a horror story you should certainly become familiar with if you aren’t already.] Crawford married actor Phillip Terry in 1942 and the couple adopted a son whom they named Christopher, but his birth mother reclaimed the child. So the couple adopted another boy, whom they named Phillip Terry Jr., but after the marriage ended, Crawford changed that child's name to Christopher Crawford. She terminated her contract with MGM and in 1943, she did what she always did and made a comeback. She signed with Warner Bros and with this switch up came a darkening of her roles and her brows. Mildred Pierce (1945) officially revived her career and won her the Oscar for Best Actress—excelling in the world of noir. In 1947, Crawford adopted two more children whom she named Cindy and Cathy, and then married her fourth—and final—husband, Alfred Steele: the president of Pepsi-Cola. She continued to work steadily throughout the rest of the decade—her roles remaining diverse but noticeably more daring. 1961’s What Ever Happened to Baby Jane? really showcased Joan’s abilities as a horror actress, but tonight we’ll be focusing on two films that came later in the decade—two slashers in which she plays a not-so-great mother. Interesting. Up first was corny-ass William Castle’s 1964 film Strait-Jacket—a film that begins as cheesily as his other cheesy projects do, but eventually it evolves into something effectively riveting and frightening. Joan stars as Lucy, a woman who is locked up in a sanitarium after she decapitates her husband and his lover with an axe—a violent exchange that I did not expect the camera to show, but I was delightfully mistaken. Two decades of confinement later, Lucy is released and goes back to see her daughter, Carol—now all grown up and living with her aunt and uncle. Carol desperately wants to reconnect with her mother and introduce her to her boyfriend, but Lucy is too shell-shocked and traumatized to fully reintegrate back into normal society. That is, until Carol takes her mom on a shopping spree, where she is pampered and transformed back into the dark-haired, dead-eyed beauty that she once was. Lucy feels like her old self again—for better or worse—and Carol is overjoyed to start this new chapter of their lives, until Lucy starts to have disturbing hallucinations that result in psychological unrest and the unfortunate bloody hacking of a few people. Joan gives an electric performance as Lucy—embodying innocence and fear just as easily as mystery and intimidation. Like any William Castle affair, Strait-Jacket references other horror films and remains somewhat self-aware, but there are a surprising amount of scares and a truly wacky twist at the end of this road. Joan’s strained, guttural screaming was impressively-freaky and her ridiculously-expressive eyebrows were a character all on their own. Joan plays the victim to Bette Davis’ villain in Baby Jane, but it was amazing to see her play both kinds of roles in Strait-Jacket. Her dedication to humanizing Lucy grounded what otherwise may have been a very silly slasher. Between the flying, bloody heads and the murderous feminine mystique, Strait-Jacket was endlessly entertaining and still rather shocking despite the fact that I’d already had the twist spoiled for me. I shan’t do the same for you, dear reader, but I will tell you that if you ever needed any confirmation that Joan Crawford was capable of cruelty, all you need to do is watch this film. The same could be said for the British carnival-slasher Berserk!—one of Joan’s last appearances on the big screen. Berserk! pictures Joan as Monica Rivers: the stern and enterprising ringmistress of a traveling circus. The film opens with her introducing renowned tightrope-walker Gaspar the Great, who’s act is cut short when a faulty rope snaps, twists, and somehow loops around his neck—hanging him in front of the entire big top’s audience. Monica’s business partner Dorando is deeply disturbed by this but she says the show must go on! So when the mysteriously dashing tightrope walker Frank Hawkins shows up out of the blue, Monica happily hires him to take Gaspar’s place. Dorando is wary of this stranger, but not attentive enough to prevent himself from being mysteriously killed as well! One by one, different members and performers in this circus are murdered in troubling but increasingly-creative ways, and while Monica is somewhat bothered by this, she also cannot ignore the fact that these sudden deaths have attracted a much larger audience to her big top. Joan is far more sinister in Berserk! than in Strait-Jacket, and remains a suspect throughout the film—along with several other characters like her troubled daughter and the mysterious Mr. Hawkins. I won’t go into how nervous some of these circus acts—particularly the ones with animals—made me feel, but I will say that the costuming and makeup and set design of this film were impeccable. Joan looked particularly stunning in all of her monochromatic circus-business-girl-boss outfits—appearing just as gorgeous and menacing in color as she did in black and white. Each of the circus performers, and the prissy British detective on this case, were captivating and hilarious to a degree that made me question what the overall tone of the movie was meant to be. The deaths were swift, shocking, and innovative, and even for a convoluted premise and problematic depictions of some carnies, Berserk! was wildly entertaining and kept me guessing until the very end. I hope you enjoyed this little Joan Crawford horror history lesson, and I hope you’ll check out these bold, bewildering 60s slashers because they were far more grim and tense than I anticipated. Joan never planned to be a horror star, but even right up until the end of her career when she starred in her final film—the sci-fi flick Trog—she was a staple in the genre. We will never know how old Joan actually was when she died, nor will we ever know how or why so many people and former colleagues (and even Christina’s then-husband) came to her defense after Mommie Dearest exposed her as a monster mom. That dark sense of mystery and broad-shouldered bravado has always been a part of Joan Crawford’s image, and will forever remain so. Thanks for reading along, dearest, and prepare yourself for all of the scares that are to come next month. Ta ta!