University of Virginia Library

CINEMA

Sex In A Southern Seminary

By Ken Barry

The very first mystery
"Beguiled" dangles before you is a
puzzle of identification. Its title
gives away nothing. Neither do
the cast names: Geraldine Page and
Elizabeth Hartman are
accomplished actresses; Clint
Eastwood is celebrated for
outsmarting, outshooting, and
outquipping the "tough hombres"
that snarl through Clint's own
brand of flick. And, finally,
"Beguiled" is-despite the publicity
claims-no more the southern
"Rosemary's Baby" than it is the
Civil War "Frankenstein." All three
pictures evoke the weird and
horrific-and, after that, they are
utterly different.

But all this mystery cloaking
"Beguiled" is perfectly appropriate.
For the movie is unique, and its
very success depends on the
viewer's sense of experiencing
something quite unusual: a period
piece with a savagely modern twist.

The setting-a secluded girl's
seminary nestled uncomfortably in
a war-torn patch of the Deep
South-would seem to lodge us in
the heroic past (our "Gone With
the Wind" reflex action). And the
opening event-a 12-year old girl
discovers a helpless, wounded
"Yank" (Eastwood) in the
forest-seems tame enough; the
angel-of-mercy bit is old hat for
Shirley Temple.

But the action to
follow-beginning with a grisly,
no-kidding kiss between rescuer and
rescuee-would make Shirley
swallow her lollipop lickety-split.
When Eastwood is dragged into
"safety" within the seminary, his
situation is intensely prickly. The
prim schoolmistress (Page) and her
primmer assistant (Hartman) feel
their duty is to turn the Yank over
to authorities. But Eastwood
arouses long throttled (and rather
warped) sexual appetites in the two
fading magnolia blossoms, as well as
the curiosity of one
none-too-innocent belle-in-training
named Carol.

Eastwood slyly plays up to the
peculiar fancies of each admirer, in
hopes of converting their sexual
pliability into a means of escape.
But feminine jealousy transforms
each seductress into a scorpion,
bent on stinging their object of
"affection." So things heat up for
the customarily cool Eastwood, as
the placid seminary becomes a
chamber of horrors sprouting
hacksaws, betrayals, and poisonous
mushrooms.

The bizarre always trembles on
the brink of the absurd, and often
enough topples over. But the
grotesque blend of history and
horror in "Beguiled" works
dramatically, largely because
director Donald Siegal creates a
tense and eerie atmosphere,
suspending plot, characters, and

audience in a murk of dripping
Spanish Moss and spine-tingling
gloom. This mood is the movie's
achievement. Miss Hartman's
performance as Edwina is the only
exceptional bit of acting, and the
screenplay is never more original
than it needs to be. All is
subordinated to the manipulations
of plot. But those manipulations,
the suspenseful turns of an
unusually taut story, make
"Beguiled" an absorbing film.
Perhaps it won't make us forget
"Rosemary's Baby," but Shirley
Temple will never be the same.

(Now at the Paramount)