What's the Matter with Helen?

This is certainly NOT a movie to laugh at, rather than with, as one commentator indicates. This move has an understated black comic humor running through it that is simply delirious fun! And that "borders on a bad musical" that another commentator mentions? Well, I believe it's supposed to be bad. In fact, frightening so. One of the major points of the film is how we live our dreadful lives in sad imitation of equally dreadful Hollywood stars. And these kids are but the sad tools of monstrous parents, forcing them to play bad imitations of Shirley Temple, or worse, trashy child vamps! And the worst of them all is Debbie Reynolds, who - when given a bouquet of gardenias - can only remark, "Oh! Joan Crawford's favorite!

See this movie. Observations like the one quoted in the title to this post will surely make you wet your pants. And if that doesn't, then Agnes Morehead's milking her flock for donations in support of her CHURCH OF THE OPEN HAND should do it. Or how about the poem she recites that goes something like, "Give it up for to God. It's time you took action. You should make Jesus your main attraction!"

The audience at the screening I went to the other night was actually on their feet cheering after the film.

The most bizarre of the cinematic sub-genres is the so called "The Great Ladies of the Grand Guignol": camp horror films which combined over-the-top melodrama with gothic thrills and always starred by seasoned and almost forgotten actress from hollywood golden age in unflattering roles of either long suffering victims or screeching evil harpies. This genre provided them with an unusual acting showcase that allowed strut their stuff on the screen once again and win new generations of fans at expense of their glamorous images from yesterday.

"What's the matter with Helen" is the last drop of this sub-genre with stunning performances of both Debbie Reynolds and Shelley Winters as the troubled mothers of two convicted criminals who run away from their past to the sunny California in the 1930s to open a talent school to milk out the eagerly mothers who want their daughters to be the next Shirley Temple. In California, Debbie gets happiness, clients, tango, tap dancing and a new love interest (Dennis Weaver meanwhile Shelley gets wacko with horrible flashbacks, menacing anonymous calls, menacing strangers, menacing Agnes Moorehead as a radio evangelist, cute little rabbits (!) and an unfortunate encounter with an electric fan (ouch!).

The sloppy script (penned by Henry Farrell, the man who started all this genre with "Whatever Happened to Baby Jane" along with master director Robert Aldrich, Joan Crawford and Bette Davis) is full of plot holes, red herrings and wasted opportunities that could had made this movie great: the underlying themes of twisted motherhood (with Debbie and Shelley's characters as "failed mothers" and the overbearing mommies of the child stars) and obsessive female bonding (Debbie and Shelley relationship and the fact that the few male characters of this movie are either sinister or sleazy even Dennis Weaver dream boat Texan) are wasted. Instead we get Debbie Reynolds musicals interludes and dancing tots, although fun to watch take too much screen time of what is supposedly to be a psychological chiller. But still this movie is highly entertaining. The two stars and Curtis Harrington stylish direction easily overcomes its flaws. The movie recreation of the 1930's is colorful and elegant (look at Debbie's clothes!) made with a very tight budget. The increasing atmosphere of madness and hysteria is genuinely creepy with a shocking finale that will haunt you for days. And you wouldn't easily forget that silly "Goody, goody" song that runs through the movie either. And seeing an increasingly mad Shelley Winters screw every one of Debbie Reynolds' chances at happiness is a hoot to watch!

8 out of 10.

Slick, colorful Gothic horror tale features the veteran leading ladies in top form. Debbie Reynolds perfects that 1930's platinum blonde/Jean Harlow image, and Shelley Winters gives what is possibly her all-time best performance as the maniacal Helen. The film was directed by cult favorite Curtis Harrington, and was written by Henry Farrell author of the novel on which the classic film WHAT EVER HAPPENED TO BABY JANE? was based. Farrell has concocted an equally effective mixture of horror and hollywood here. Harrington's next venture into the macabre was the similarly Gothic and atmospheric WHO SLEW AUNTIE ROO?, also featuring the inimitable Shelley Winters in the titular role.

The movie takes place in the 1930s--The mothers (Debbie Reynolds and Shelley Winters) of two murdering sons run away to Hollywood after their sons are convicted. They change their names and open a dance studio for children. Reynolds quickly adjusts to her new life and falls for a nice guy (Dennis Weaver). However Winters keeps having flashbacks to her husband's bloody accident that killed him--or was it an accident? This film looks fantastic. Curtis Harrington was a very good, underrated director and he did a great job here. The settings and costumes are incredible and perfectly fit the 1930s. However the story doesn't flow smoothly. It runs in fits and starts and comes to a screeching halt for THREE musical numbers with the kids and Reynolds! Also a certain murder at the end was drastically cut to avoid an R rating (the director was not happy about it). But the acting saves it. Reynolds is superb in a very dramatic and hard role. I never thought she could act till I saw this. Winters chews the scenery (as usual) but in a fun way. Also, despite the GP (now PG) rating this is pretty bloody and the shock ending is totally ruined by being on the poster AND the theatrical trailer! Still it's worth catching.

From the writer of "What Ever Happened to Baby Jane?" and "Hush .. Hush, Sweet Charlotte," this tail-end of the sixties horror cycle has some eerie and campy fun. Micheál Macliammóir does a Victor Buono-type bit, but too often the movie totters dangerously close to a bad musical ... there's a particularly awful children's recital about halfway through. Debbie taps, tangos and tricks up a lá Harlow, while Winters' religious fanatic has a lesbian edge to her. Agnes Moorehead checks in as an evangelist. Weaver has nothing to do - and even has to pay a gigolo to dance with Debbie.