The producers of "Mommie Dearest" clearly took copious notes
from the real-life Crawford canon; traces of everything from
"Mildred Pierce" to "Harriet Craig" to "Strait-Jacket" show up in that
biopic-from-hell, but the film it most closely resembles is the 1955
cult classic, "Queen Bee."
Scenes of an imperious Crawford being served coffee in bed;
destroying a bedroom with a riding crop (wire hanger?); and her
children crying out in the dark are lifted directly from this movie;
and Crawford's stunning appearances in various Jean Louis
gowns--descending a grand staircase, posing in a doorway,
preening in front of a mirror--are a harbinger of the demented
fashion show Faye Dunaway would put on in her Crawford
assasination.
Like her rival, Bette Davis, Crawford is best-known for villanous
roles like this, although neither she nor Davis often played bitches;
but the times they did, the performances were so over-the-top, it's
what we remember them for. "Queen Bee" is the ultimate
late-period Crawford vehicle; she dominates every scene, even
when she doesn't directly appear in it, and her elegant bitchery is a
marvel to behold. No one, but simply no one, could throw a fur
stole over her shoulder like Joan Crawford, and certainly no one
could top her as an obsessive-compulsive, castrating shrew.
Crawford herself was happier playing heroines (like the "young"
widow of "Female on the Beach," or the brilliant playwright in
"Sudden Fear"), but she clearly was even more compelling in
full-on bitch mode. As cruel, evil and thoughtless as her character
may be, Crawford handles it with such glamour and panache, you
secretly find yourself rooting for her.
from the real-life Crawford canon; traces of everything from
"Mildred Pierce" to "Harriet Craig" to "Strait-Jacket" show up in that
biopic-from-hell, but the film it most closely resembles is the 1955
cult classic, "Queen Bee."
Scenes of an imperious Crawford being served coffee in bed;
destroying a bedroom with a riding crop (wire hanger?); and her
children crying out in the dark are lifted directly from this movie;
and Crawford's stunning appearances in various Jean Louis
gowns--descending a grand staircase, posing in a doorway,
preening in front of a mirror--are a harbinger of the demented
fashion show Faye Dunaway would put on in her Crawford
assasination.
Like her rival, Bette Davis, Crawford is best-known for villanous
roles like this, although neither she nor Davis often played bitches;
but the times they did, the performances were so over-the-top, it's
what we remember them for. "Queen Bee" is the ultimate
late-period Crawford vehicle; she dominates every scene, even
when she doesn't directly appear in it, and her elegant bitchery is a
marvel to behold. No one, but simply no one, could throw a fur
stole over her shoulder like Joan Crawford, and certainly no one
could top her as an obsessive-compulsive, castrating shrew.
Crawford herself was happier playing heroines (like the "young"
widow of "Female on the Beach," or the brilliant playwright in
"Sudden Fear"), but she clearly was even more compelling in
full-on bitch mode. As cruel, evil and thoughtless as her character
may be, Crawford handles it with such glamour and panache, you
secretly find yourself rooting for her.