Die Besessene

As stated in everyone's write-ups, this is a story of a murder with a twist; the perp is one of two identical twins. One alibis for the other, and since both can't be prosecuted for the crime, the guilty one walks. This does not sit well with Insp. Thomas Mitchell, who tries to think of a way to implicate the guilty one - whichever one that is. And so he enlists the help of psychiatrist Lew Ayres.

At first, the murder is presented as an unsolvable conundrum and in a light-hearted vein, but things get serious thereafter and, unfortunately, the plot begins to bog down over some technical psychological data. But Olivia DeHavilland saves the day and the movie with a splendid performance (or two) as the twins. Gradually there appear personality differences so that even the audience can tell the difference between the two. Not many actresses could have pulled off the layered performances of the twins, but not many actresses are as proficient or as skilled as DeHavilland.

This is another neglected gem from Universal's cobwebbed movie vaults that needs to be put into circulation by that comatose studio. It is one of Ms. DeHavilland's best performances and raises an average, talky movie to classic status.

THE DARK MIRROR is a lesser-known entry into the canon of films noir that dominated Hollywood in the mid-Forties. Directed by Robert Siodmak (THE KILLERS), it is a psychological thriller focusing on the attempts of Lt. Stevenson (Thomas Mitchell) and psychiatrist Dr. Scott Elliott (Lew Ayres) to discover the killer of a well=established doctor. The only snag is that the chief suspects are a pair of identical twins, Ruth and Terry Collins, both played by Olivia de Havilland, who refuse to divulge any further information. Siodmak's narrative focuses in detail on the twins' psychology, by deliberately frustrating our desire to find out who is the 'good' and the 'bad' twin. The costume-designs apparently make this process of distinguishing quite straightforward - one wears white, the other black as the film unfolds - but the twins' responses to Elliott's psychological tests challenge our preconceptions. De Havilland has a rare chance to play the role of a 'bad' woman and grasps it with both hands; her Chicago accent is both harsh yet beguiling. It's clear that, as the 'bad' twin, she can seduce anyone she likes, even those men who proclaim their ability to see through any psychological games. Nunnally Johnson's script is taut and fast-moving (in the print I saw, the film lasts only eighty-one minutes), while Siodmak makes clever use of atmospheric lighting, especially shadows projected on the back will behind the twins, to suggest that they are somehow pursued by internal demons. THE DARK MIRROR might not be as celebrated as other films of similar genre, but it nonetheless captures some of the emotional uncertainties and moral that characterized the material of that period; its ending is particularly cleverly structured.

Okay, with my background as an ex-therapist and psychology teacher, I was quick to notice that there was a lot of psychological mumbo-jumbo in this film. The whole notion of a "nice twin" and an "evil twin" just seems like a silly cliché.

However, if you ignore the improbability of the film, you will be rewarded with a pretty exciting and original film. Olivia DeHavilland plays identical twins and the split screen and other tricks were done pretty seamlessly. Her acting, as usual, was lovely to watch. The film also starred Thomas Mitchell as the cop and Lew Ayers as the psychologist--and both were at about their best.

The story excels in regard to how it portrayed the sociopathic sister. She was pretty realistic, as she was a good example of an Antisocial Personality Disorder--having no conscience and being highly manipulative.

Some other things that I found interesting were the excellent plot twists and suspense elements. Also, I was surprised when I noticed that at least some of the Rorschach cards (for the "ink blot test") were real cards--these are NOT supposed to be shown to the general public and are to only be used for diagnostic and therapeutic purposes. And the responses the women gave were pretty realistic. I guess someone slipped up, huh?

Psychology is a dubious science as it is, but, when a Hollywood screenwriter gets his hands on it, anything even closely resembling fact is thrown out the window. In the mid-1940s, Freudian psychology reached the peak of its popularity, and films such as Hitchcock's 'Spellbound (1945)' and Lang's 'Secret Beyond the Door… (1947)' utilised their own versions of psychoanalysis to provide easy answers for their characters' delusions. Robert Siodmak's 'The Dark Mirror (1946)' is no different, in that we are offered a half-baked pseudo-scientific dissertation on why even identical twins can be anything but identical when it comes to personality traits. In fact, screenwriter Nunnally Johnson (who also wrote and directed 'The Three Faces of Eve (1957)') actively pumps the familiar but questionable notion that twins respectively represent the good and evil sides of man. This duality is similar to that explored in the earlier versions of 'Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde (1920/1931/1941),' though the two sides of the human coin are here separated from their mutual shell and allowed to behave as independent entities.

Olivia de Havilland excels in dual roles as Terry and Ruth Collins, twin sisters who might just have pulled off the perfect crime, even if only one knows it. When the sisters' shared boyfriend is murdered in cold blood, two witnesses place one of the twins at the scene of the crime, while three more provide a solid alibi for the other. The only problem is that nobody can tell the pair apart. A police detective (Thomas Mitchell) is torn apart by the case: how can he charge either woman with murder if he can't decide which of the sisters is, in fact, a murderess? Only through Hollywood's good friend Dr. Freud can the true nature of the crime be exposed. The distinction between the "good" and "insane" twin is clearly drawn early in the film, with de Havilland playing one sister, Terry, as a cocky dominator, and the other, Ruth, as more softly-spoken, with eyes always downcast and hands delicately clasped together. Clarifying the dual relationship is some convenient symbolism used in the film's climax: Terry is dressed in black, and Ruth in white.

Convincing optical effects and the use of body doubles are employed successfully to create the illusion of two Olivia de Havillands. The actress does well as both characters, perhaps channelling her dislike of sister Joan Fontaine to portray the snarling, psychotic and homicidally jealous "evil sister." Though they start out perfectly alike, it doesn't take long for the two Collins sisters to develop distinct personalities in the eyes of the audience, and Siodmak should quickly have dispensed with the obvious name-tags (either a necklace or a single letter pin) added to ensure that the audience could follow who was who. Perhaps misguidedly, the presence of twins is at first played largely for laughs, with composer Dimitri Tiomkin keeping the atmosphere surprisingly light and fluffy. Fortunately, however, the mood darkens substantially in the film's second half, as the hatred simmering slowly within the darker twin threatens to spill over into reality. Though the unlikely psychology behind 'The Dark Mirror' tests one's credulity at regular intervals, the strong acting and unique storyline make this one worth seeking out.

The film is a little bit light, with a bumbling detective played by Thomas Mitchell and vintage Freudian psychoanalysis presented by Lew Ayres, but the twin sister role, one a good girl the other very bad, played by Olivia De Havilland has its moments. Her soft voice can go either direction, sweet and innocent or cold and devious, and the scenes where she is playing both parts, essentially talking to herself, convey a split personality, which might not have been such a bad idea, instead of making two distinct persons. It reaches a zenith in one scene in their dark bedroom with the innocent twin tormented by the mean one, who's telling her to take her sleep medication, and who in fact would like to see her overdose. Freudianism and bungling detective work win out in the end, making this all seem too convenient, and dodging a lot of the possibilities, but the central part, or parts, is DeHavilland at her best.