Bewitched (1945)

Directed by Arch Oboler; produced by Jerry Bresler

Joan Ellis (Phyllis Thaxter) is on death row. What drove her to commit the murder she committed no one understands. She knows, though, and, through flashbacks, the story is told of how Joan has been fighting a battle for years - a losing battle - against the other person inside her: a malevolent personality that lives to cause havoc and destruction.

One of the first movies to consider, scientifically (or pseudo-scientifically), the condition of multiple personalities - if adaptations of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde are excepted - Bewitched is effective as a tale of psychological horror. This is not so much due to the story and the direction, both the work of one man, as the execution of them by the actors.

Arch Oboler is considered a pioneer of radio drama. His stories were inventive and imaginative, and well presented. As a film director, he is less successful, his first effort being the gravely disappointing Strange Holiday, reviewed on this blog in May of 2024. The principal blame there was the script (also by Oboler). The direction was tedious, though much of the fault may have been in the editing, or lack thereof.

Bewitched is Oboler’s second directorial effort, and was also written by him. Much of the story is atmospheric and creepy, though there are parts that seem like padding, such as scenes of Joan running through the streets of New York. The original story may have been conceived as a radio-play, and required the extra time for a movie. It runs 65 minutes, but seems longer.

The story, whether it was first meant for the radio or not, is a good one. The fight between Joan and her evil alter ego is tense, and the trial scenes allow Joan’s motivation to be explained to the audience, if not to the other characters. There is less suspense in the climax. This may be the case because of the greater understanding we - even laymen - have of psychology these days, and may also be due to the dubious manner in which Joan’s deep problem is solved. There is, as well, no delving into the origin of her split personality.

It is the acting that allows Bewitched to be entertaining. Thaxter does a fine job as the bemused and frightened woman at the centre of the tale. The supporting players are not as impressive. Edmund Gwenn plays a psychologist who seems little different than many other such doctors in movies of that era.

However, it was a successful notion to recruit Audrey Totter as the voice of Joan’s other half. Though she would become one of film noir’s leading ladies, Totter at the time had made only two other movies; they were both released in 1945, the same year as Bewitched. Prior to this, however, she had already made a name for herself in radio, from which, no doubt, Oboler knew her. Though never seen (and uncredited), her scratchy, shrewish interpretation of the other half creates most of Bewitched’s thrills.

While Bewitched provides a decent evening at the movies, it could have been better. A more involved story, more science and more editing would have improved matters.