Hollywood studios today put a lot of thought and consideration into the science of WHEN to release their product. The producers of a major blockbuster, for example, will probably not want to issue their film on the same weekend that another blockbuster is due to be dropped on the public; one romcom might want to avoid competing with the release of another romcom, and so on. But sometimes, this strategy does not pan out as might be expected. Take, for example, the case of "Lizzie" and "The Three Faces of Eve." You've probably heard of the latter picture, whereas the first may have slipped right under your radar. Both films were released in 1957 ("Lizzie" on April 4, and "Eve" around six months later, on September 23) and both featured similar story lines, telling as they did of young women who suffered with multiple (triple) personalities. The fact that "Lizzie" came out first, however, did not prevent "Eve" from enjoying greater acclaim, an Oscar honor and long-term renown. To be truthful, the latter film is, objectively speaking, the superior picture, with better production values (it is a major studio release; "Lizzie" was an independent effort) and, supposedly, better distribution. But although Joanne Woodward picked up a Best Actress Oscar for her work in "Eve," and deserved it (in my review of the film, I wrote something to the effect that given the circumstances, the Academy should have given her three!), I am not sure that her performance was significantly better than Eleanor Parker's in the earlier film, and a recent rewatch of "Lizzie" has only served to strengthen that feeling.
Whereas "Eve" was based on a real-life case, "Lizzie" was spun entirely from fiction, and based on Shirley Jackson's 1954 novel "The Bird's Nest." (No, I have never read this source novel, although I have previously enjoyed Jackson's ubercreepy "We Have Always Lived in the Castle," and have long felt that her "Haunting of Hill House" is probably the scariest book that I have ever read.) The film introduces us to a neurotic mess of a woman, 25-year-old Elizabeth Richmond, who works in a museum, has trouble sleeping, suffers from constant headaches, and lives with her alcoholic Aunt Morgan (the great Warner Bros. actress Joan Blondell). Elizabeth has been getting threatening letters from someone named Lizzie when we first meet her, but the viewer soon learns something quite astonishing. In one of the film's many spine-chilling sequences, soft-spoken Elizabeth, standing on the house stairs, and with her back to the camera, calls her aunt a "drunken old slut" in a voice that might as well be lifted from an "Exorcist" movie! Upstairs in her room, Elizabeth, looking into her mirror, suddenly transforms into another woman entirely. She is now Lizzie herself, a wanton hussy, who goes out to the local bar to swill down booze and pick up men, only to have no recollection of having done so in the morning. Eventually, her case is brought to the attention of one Dr. Wright (Richard Boone), who hypnotizes the troubled young woman (she is put into a mesmerized state remarkably easily) and discovers something almost equally surprising: A third personality, a normal young lady named Beth, resides inside the poor gal's noggin, yearning for release! But can the sympathetic doctor effect a cure on Elizabeth/Lizzie/Beth before the three of them throw themselves off the nearest roof?
It is really quite remarkable how much "Lizzie" and its more famous cousin have in common. In both films, a young woman has a triple personality problem, with one of those personalities being a mousy dishrag, one a sexually brazen creature, and one a "normal" young person (Eve White, Eve Black and Jane, respectively, in the later film). Both patients are treated by hugely sympathetic doctors (Lee. J. Cobb in the later film) who uncover the psychological explanation for the poor ladies' conditions, and in both films, these explanations strike the viewer as being a bit glib. The one here in "Lizzie," actually (and without giving too much away), almost seems like a warm-up for the rationale of Norman Bates' condition in the "Psycho" film of three years later, having to do, as it does, with a child's mother and that mother's boyfriend. And in both films, it is the remarkable performances of the two lead actresses that carry the film. Both Parker and Woodward are simply wonderful, and capable of transforming at the drop of a hat from one personality to another. Just look at Parker stare at herself in that mirror, and suddenly become the leering Lizzie in a matter of seconds! And Parker's first-rate thesping is ably abetted by Blondell, old pro that she was at this point; by Hugo Haas as Morgan's friend and suitor, Walter (Haas also directed this film, just one of almost 20 films that he both directed AND acted in); and by future "Happy Days" star Marion Ross as Elizabeth's sympathetic museum coworker, Ruth. I should also perhaps mention that both "Lizzie" and "Eve" contain any number of memorable scenes. In "Eve," the sequence in which Eve's husband (David Wayne) seems to cheat on her with one of her other personalities is unforgettable; in "Lizzie," the poor gal's (gals'?) traumatic experience toward the end, as each personality fights the other, rendered in almost psychedelic fashion by director Haas, is equally stunning. Fortunately for both Eve and Lizzie, both pictures conclude with a seeming cure for the poor befuddled gals, but it should be remembered that in the case of the real-life Eve, a period of 17 years of therapy was required to effect her cure, during which time a full 22 (!) personalities came forth. (Talk about a woman with TOO much personality!) The bottom line, though, is that although "Lizzie" has been overshadowed by its more famous cousin, this earlier film has every reason to hold its head high. Or should I say "all three heads"?
Whereas "Eve" was based on a real-life case, "Lizzie" was spun entirely from fiction, and based on Shirley Jackson's 1954 novel "The Bird's Nest." (No, I have never read this source novel, although I have previously enjoyed Jackson's ubercreepy "We Have Always Lived in the Castle," and have long felt that her "Haunting of Hill House" is probably the scariest book that I have ever read.) The film introduces us to a neurotic mess of a woman, 25-year-old Elizabeth Richmond, who works in a museum, has trouble sleeping, suffers from constant headaches, and lives with her alcoholic Aunt Morgan (the great Warner Bros. actress Joan Blondell). Elizabeth has been getting threatening letters from someone named Lizzie when we first meet her, but the viewer soon learns something quite astonishing. In one of the film's many spine-chilling sequences, soft-spoken Elizabeth, standing on the house stairs, and with her back to the camera, calls her aunt a "drunken old slut" in a voice that might as well be lifted from an "Exorcist" movie! Upstairs in her room, Elizabeth, looking into her mirror, suddenly transforms into another woman entirely. She is now Lizzie herself, a wanton hussy, who goes out to the local bar to swill down booze and pick up men, only to have no recollection of having done so in the morning. Eventually, her case is brought to the attention of one Dr. Wright (Richard Boone), who hypnotizes the troubled young woman (she is put into a mesmerized state remarkably easily) and discovers something almost equally surprising: A third personality, a normal young lady named Beth, resides inside the poor gal's noggin, yearning for release! But can the sympathetic doctor effect a cure on Elizabeth/Lizzie/Beth before the three of them throw themselves off the nearest roof?
It is really quite remarkable how much "Lizzie" and its more famous cousin have in common. In both films, a young woman has a triple personality problem, with one of those personalities being a mousy dishrag, one a sexually brazen creature, and one a "normal" young person (Eve White, Eve Black and Jane, respectively, in the later film). Both patients are treated by hugely sympathetic doctors (Lee. J. Cobb in the later film) who uncover the psychological explanation for the poor ladies' conditions, and in both films, these explanations strike the viewer as being a bit glib. The one here in "Lizzie," actually (and without giving too much away), almost seems like a warm-up for the rationale of Norman Bates' condition in the "Psycho" film of three years later, having to do, as it does, with a child's mother and that mother's boyfriend. And in both films, it is the remarkable performances of the two lead actresses that carry the film. Both Parker and Woodward are simply wonderful, and capable of transforming at the drop of a hat from one personality to another. Just look at Parker stare at herself in that mirror, and suddenly become the leering Lizzie in a matter of seconds! And Parker's first-rate thesping is ably abetted by Blondell, old pro that she was at this point; by Hugo Haas as Morgan's friend and suitor, Walter (Haas also directed this film, just one of almost 20 films that he both directed AND acted in); and by future "Happy Days" star Marion Ross as Elizabeth's sympathetic museum coworker, Ruth. I should also perhaps mention that both "Lizzie" and "Eve" contain any number of memorable scenes. In "Eve," the sequence in which Eve's husband (David Wayne) seems to cheat on her with one of her other personalities is unforgettable; in "Lizzie," the poor gal's (gals'?) traumatic experience toward the end, as each personality fights the other, rendered in almost psychedelic fashion by director Haas, is equally stunning. Fortunately for both Eve and Lizzie, both pictures conclude with a seeming cure for the poor befuddled gals, but it should be remembered that in the case of the real-life Eve, a period of 17 years of therapy was required to effect her cure, during which time a full 22 (!) personalities came forth. (Talk about a woman with TOO much personality!) The bottom line, though, is that although "Lizzie" has been overshadowed by its more famous cousin, this earlier film has every reason to hold its head high. Or should I say "all three heads"?