This month Old Academy Anew explores the psychological thriller Gaslight. This 1944 film is the second adaptation of the 1938 stage play of the same name, albeit in two words: Gas Light. If you remember your history lessons, WW2 was still going on during 1944. This shows humanity’s need for entertainment trumps whatever happens somewhere else; as long as we feel secure in our own backyard.
Spoilers, screaming at the screen, and mild to severe swearing ahead.
INFLUENCE
Our story begins with a crime. A famous opera singer has been murdered in London, and the authorities have no suspects or clues. Thanks to some Edwardian/Hollywood contrivance, her niece and last surviving relative, Paula (Ingrid Bergman), goes to Italy to live with her aunt’s former teacher. We’re not going to bother with his name since he’s in the film for five minutes.
A cluster of nosy neighbors gather to see a wrapped in mourning black Paula leave her house. Obviously on a dark foggy night– because that’s when you embark on life-changing journeys in this kind of situations. Interestingly, the first words utter in the film are, “No. No, Paula. Don’t look back” as she tries to crane her neck out of the carriage.
EVEN IF WE DON’T KNOW EXACTLY HOW YOUNG PAULA IS SUPPOSED TO BE AT THE BEGINNING OF GASLIGHT, INGRID BERGMAN LOOKS CONVINCINGLY NUBILE AND SORROWFULLY STOIC AS SHE DEPARTS THE HOUSE WHERE SHE GREW UP.
An undisclosed amount of years later, we found Paula belting an aria in the Italian teacher’s studio. He was treated the one of the most unconvincing depictions of piano playing I’ve ever seen. For some reason, it reminded me of Bella Swan not knowing how to work a bottle of ketchup in Twilight (2008). I laughed my ass off. But do not worry; Paula ain’t the one teabagging the keys with brute fingers. That faker will become of importance in a moment.
To sum up the scene, Paula isn’t singing properly because she’s supposed to be channeling a tragedy, but she’s too happy to do so. She isn’t convincing because her heart is blocking her mind, or something along those lines. They stop the practice, and a bunch of plot holes emerge for the eagle-eyed spectator.
You see, these two people don’t sound like guard and charge; they sound like a student who meets a teacher once a week for a lesson. Nevertheless, the film uses the tragedy of the aria to mention the tragedy in Paula’s own life and (with that excuse) put her very clumsily in the direction of the happiness she might get with this rando, the teacher has never met and she keeps a secret for some contrived reason. This black hole of plot hole ends with the implication that perhaps Paula will never return to practice again. Told ya, the teacher was only there for five effing minutes.
BECAUSE GASLIGHT AIN’T A ROMANCE, WE NEVER GET THE “LIFE BEFORE YOU” OR THE “MEET CUTE.” WE GET A COUPLE ALLEGEDLY IN LOVE FOR A GRAND TOTAL OF PROBABLY TEN MINUTES BEFORE DARKNESS SWOOPS WITH BAT-LIKE WINGS.
Paula descends from Teacher Italiano’s studio with giddy steps on her way to meet the mysterious lover. He’s waiting for her not far, and we meet him as he calls her; not for the first time because we’ve already met him: it’s the piano butcher! Gregory Anton (Charles Boyer) passionately hugs and kisses her. Immediately we’re treated to the most expositional conversation you can get this side of a voiceover. Long story short, they’ve only known each other for two weeks, but he wants to marry her. She likes him. She’s probably already in love, but she’s afraid to trust this happiness. She has known so little of it; it’s hard for her to accept it. Still, seeds of deception are planted during the exchange, and they will bloom– but in another land.
After asking for a week to process her emotions, Paula departs for the lakes. Just the lakes, don’t try to wonder which ones because we don’t even know in what part of Italy this thing is happening.
On the train, Paula meets Bloodthirsty Bessie. Do not fear– she’s but an old lady who likes a good murder, in a book, for fun. Nevertheless, we get another expositional conversation. Double B happens to be English and notices that Paula isn’t English. Paula explains that she was just brought up there by her aunt; never mentions where she’s actually from, though. Noisy BB wonders if Paula is on her way to London. Nah, she’s just going to Lake Como. Now she tells us.
GASLIGHT ABUSES HAPPENSTANCE SO HARD THE ONLY EQUIVALENT IS A TEENAGER DEPRAVED OF SOCIAL MEDIA FOR A WEEK UNABLE TO DETOX AND DESPERATE FOR THEIR NEXT TIKTOK FIX.
Of course, Bloodthirsty Busybody lives in the same square where the murder of Paula’s aunt happened. She rehashes the whole thing the moment Paula mistakenly mentions she knew someone there. Now what bothers me the most about their conversation is the geographical shenanigans. You couldn’t logically take a train from Wherever-o, Italy to England in eighteen hundred-whatever-year-the-movie-happens, much less straight to London. Never mind the English Channel; you still have to be content with France! And Lake Como is by the fukken Alps! Was Geography not a thing in 1944’s schools? Deep breaths. Just deep slow breaths.
Paula alights from the esoteric train. A hand grabs her arm as she’s saying goodbye to Lady Nosington. Terror twists her beautiful face only to turn into bright delight when she discovers it’s Piano Butcher. Are we gonna do the shots thing every time we get a red flag? Shall we? We might get alcohol poison by the end of the movie. Wait. I might be the one in need of liquor to forget maps and patch plot holes…
The sun rises in a lovely villa by the lake. Another expositional conversation ensues after firmly establishing the Paula and PB are doing the nasty; thanks to the massive bed they share. Dude asks Paula about her dreams, not her plans but the dreams of the previous night. She dreamt of all the wonderful places they’d visit during their life together. Perhaps they might even settle in Paris.
SO FAR, EVERY SINGLE CONVERSATION IN GASLIGHT HAS BEEN AN INFODUMP. I’M NOT TRYING TO CON YOU INTO THINKING YOU CANNOT CONVEY EXPOSITION THROUGH DIALOGUE– JUST THAT HAD THIS FILM COME OUT TODAY YOU’D SMELL THE CHATGPT FUMES ALL OVER IT.
Alas, the Destroyer of Pianos finds a way to veer the conversation to his dreams. He dreams of a house in London– in one of those quaint squares because why the fukke no? Go settle in almost permanently grey, foggy London. Why bother with another location after the woman he supposedly loves just pointed at mothafraggin’ Paris or even Rome? Shot. I need an effing shot.
Paula agrees to return to that house of horrors (her words not mine) because since she met Brute Fingers she’s stopped dreaming of that place. The happy dreams he’s brought forward would help her face London and the memories.
CONTROL
A month later we arrived in London. None other than our friend Bloodthirsty Busybody Bessie is right there to meet the newlyweds and expose the time-lapse. Piano Butcher dismisses her so gallantly that she doesn’t realize she’s just made an enemy. Since the train, we know she wants to look around inside the house, and that ain’t happening on his watch.
We enter the room where Auntie got deleted, and we’re introduced to Chekov’s glove; we also discover a letter from a mysterious man named Sergis Bauer dated two days before the murder. Here we see PB losing control for the first time as he snatches the letter from Paula’s hands. When she asks why he’s so upset, he turns the tables; it’s not about him but for her sake because he knows these things disturb her. Cue a double shot with a tiny red flag umbrella.
FROM HERE, GASLIGHT ENTERED INTO AN EXPANSE OF ALMOST AN HOUR WHERE THAT PIANO BUTCHER MOFO TESTED MY PATIENCE IN SO MANY WAYS I WAS READY TO QUIT MORE THAN THRICE.
Having procured a cook, we now need a housemaid. A fresh-faced Angela Lansbury of Murder She Wrote fame fills the position as Nancy. Forget matrons as proper housekeepers, Fukko gets pretty, not completely suited for the job, and slightly slutty Nancy. If you think you know where this is going, you’re mistaken– mostly. She ain’t no babysitter in a Lifetime movie; yet, she thinks she might get the role of mistress if she applies herself enough.
Paula and her Bitter Half go sightseeing in the Tower of London of all places. Nothing like a spring day to visit a fukken former prison, right? This outing is important for two reasons. One, we get the first instance of the mental manipulation that will befall Paula during the following months; two, we meet, if briefly, her salvation in the form of hunky Brian Cameron (Joseph Cotten) of Scotland Yard.
Myriad little things accumulate to drive Paula mad while imprisoned in her own house. I’m only going to comment on the one that pissed me off the most. Lady Nosington has been intended on visiting for months, but there’s always an excuse to keep her out. Brian Cameron has cozied up to the old lady; first because he mistook Paula for her dead aunt, but also because he senses something fishy about the husband. He even tries to reopen the case since it was never solved; something about the unceremonious conclusion of that matter doesn’t sit right with him.
Nancy enters to the parlor where auntie was killed and the piano plays to announce visitors. Lady Nosington and her unnamed nephew have come to visit Paula. She’s excited because she barely sees people, but Fukko puts a stop to it, telling Nancy to dismiss them.
WHEN BELA LUGOSI STARRED IN 1931’S DRACULA HE NEVER KNEW HE WOULD HAVE A DOPPELGANGER IN 1944’S GASLIGHT BECAUSE THAT MOFO HUSBAND NOT ONLY LOOKED LIKE HIM BUT NEEDED A STAKE THROUGH HIS EVIL FUKKEN HEART.
His explanation to soothe her discomfort was seemingly an afterthought; she wouldn’t have time for visitors because she needed to get ready for the night. Paula wonders if she’s forgotten they were going out. Asshole lets her wallow in that confusion for a while then chuckle, saying it was a surprise. With renewed enthusiasm Paula sings and dances around the parlor full of happiness as evil man butchers the piano; it’s been so long since they have gone out together.
Don’t fall like Paula did; this is all leading to more mental torture. Suddenly. Monster asks Paula to just put things back where they belong and he won’t mention it again. Our heroine is confused because whatever the fukkity fukk could he be talking about. He points to a spot on the wall clearly missing a painting. She doesn’t know what happens to it. He accuses her of moving things, of losing things, of forgetting things.
Paula swears she didn’t move it. And I’m here screaming, “It’s her fucking house! If she wants to move a stupid painting, she can move a stupid painting!!! Ahhhh!!!” The situation reaches a breaking point when the cook is summoned and made to swear on a Bible about the whereabouts of the painting. Fukko threatens to call Nancy and make her swear on the book too. Paula is terrified of Nancy (but that’s a whole ‘nother can of worms), so she rather swear on it herself.
Evil Piano Butcher orders Paula to find the painting. In an almost Pavlovian response, she goes to the staircase and finds it behind a plinth. “So you know where it was all the time,” he says, not angry– just disappointed. She promises she didn’t know, but it’s been there other times…
I SWEAR DOLORES UMBRIDGE FROM HARRY POTTER &THE ORDER OF THE PHOENIX (2007) IS A SAINT COMPARED TO GREGORY ANTON IN GASLIGHT.
MANIPULATION
Scotland Yard hunk is determined to find out what’s going on in that house, and why its beautiful owner is a prisoner within those walls. We never know his exact rank, but he has enough weight to change the patrolman around the area. This new guy is encouraged to insinuate himself to Nancy. This is clearly with the intention of extracting information while having fun, whatever that means. Wink, wink.
Nancy, of the loose morals and apparently also of the loose lips, bites the bait. She lets slip that the lady of the house might embark on a long journey soon enough. Also, the master of the house isn’t averse to the idea of her taking care of him. This part might be her own wishful thinking because Monster Hubby has other things in mind.
And let’s stop here because if you choose to watch this movie and you haven’t had an aneurysm at this point, you’re in for a treat.
If you have access to the interwebs, you must have certainly seen, heard, or even used the verb gaslight. You can thank this film for that wonderful summarization of an evil system of manipulation to achieve (mostly) sinister goals. Now imagine a world where the unrelenting twisting of facts and perceptions doesn’t need to be done one-on-one; a world where easy access to a million minds eager to be misguided and controlled is instantaneous. We are there, and people fall because it gives them attention, and somehow purpose.
But we aren’t here to ponder about that part of society; we are here to ask Old Academy Anew’s principal question: Can we make this movie today? Surprisingly, YES.
GASLIGHT IS THE KIND OF CLASSIC HOLLYWOOD MOVIE THAT YOU CAN EASILY REMAKE TODAY BECAUSE ITS SIMPLE PREMISE OF A BAD WHITE MAN TORMENTING A FEEBLE WOMAN IS ABSURDLY ON BRAND WITH TODAY’S MODERN AGENDA.
According to my trusted friend Wikipedia, there was a trend during the 1940s of “Don’t trust your husband” movies. Rebecca (1940), Suspicion (1941), Jane Eyre (1944), Dragonwyck (1945), and Sorry, Wrong Number (1948) are among them. It could comfortably translate today to “Don’t trust the white man” to the delight of keyboard warriors all around.
Now, will such a remake give us a good movie? Here’s where you get the FUCK NO you were expecting before. The reason is so simple is not even funny. Tinsel Town is overrun with writers screaming about women being defenseless and abused; the same bunch unable to write anything but strong female characters and Mary Sues. So how do you write a strong flawless superior woman tormented by an evil toxic man? Her superpowers cancel his ability to conquer her, especially because these same writers cannot write men either. Any man created by these individuals is subservient to women, and even when evil– it is stupid easily defeasible evil.
SO YEAH, UNDER THE *MAN BAD/WOMAN GOOD* BANNER WE LIVE TODAY, YOU CAN REMAKE GASLIGHT ON PAPER; IT’S GOING TO BE A SHIT SHOW, BUT WHEN HAS THAT STOPPED HOLLYWOOD?
Now do not think for a second that I didn’t enjoy the film. Never mind, I teetered between laughing my ass off and being pissed off. I understand the time period– not only of the movie but when it was made. I might have pointed out its contradictions and shortcuts, but I get why those things happened. Even Chekov’s glove had a reason to exist. Comparing it to today’s entertainment where you can get skewered by a lightsaber and walk it off, old classics remain flawless jewels of human achievement.
I’m going to give it 8 out of 10. We spent too much time in Transylvania and not enough in Scotland Yard. Also because the accents were all over the friggin’ place.
Gaslight (1944) is currently streaming on Amazon Prime.