Bosley Crowther in the New York Times (May 30, 1947):

The last time we saw Joan Crawford, in the Warner's "Humoresque"—the last time, that is, before just seeing her in that same studio's "Possessed"—she was walking out into the ocean with the intention of drowning herself because John Garfield didn't love her as much as he loved music—speaking fictionally, of course. Apparently she succeeded, to judge by Hollywood's new film, and apparently this is her spirit—or a transmigration thereof—which we now see.

For not only does Miss Crawford resemble anything so much as a water-logged cadaver at the outset of "Possessed"—and, for that matter, never looks completely dehydrated at any stage of the film—but her whole attitude throughout the drama is that of a desperate woman's ghost wailing for a demon-lover beneath a waning moon. And, indeed, the basic conflict in the story is so similar to that in "Humoresque" that the ghost aspect of the characterization seems to be almost studiously contrived.

In this picture, as in the former, Miss Crawford plays a dame who goes mad because the man of her devotion doesn't love her the way she loves him. Only this time she goes completely batty and lands in a psychopathic ward, where, under the influence of narco-hypnosis, she relates her tragic tale.

It is the tale of an unbalanced woman—a schizophrenic, as they point out—who develops a persecution complex when her lover refuses to marry her. (All of this clinical data is orally noted by the doctors attending the case, and it is to them that we are indebted for keeping us posted as the story unfolds.) And, although she eventually marries another—a man whose wife has committed suicide—she can never forgive the gent who jilts her, especially when he starts romancing her step-daughter. She grows hysterical, she has hallucinations, hollow voices ring in her ears. Finally she shoots her old lover and is off to the looney-bin.

As a visualized psychoanalysis, this film has its fascinating points, even though it does leave some broad areas of the lady's neurosis unexplained. Her crack-up is fairly documented, within the frame of a primarily fictional film, and the efficiency and dispassion of science are suggested in a rather credible way. Stanley Ridges, as the psychiatrist, is the one person in the film whose preoccupation with his problem can be reasonably believed.

But the morbidness of the drama and particularly its one-track emphasis upon the frustrations of a female are a little too thick for free flow. It is just a bit oppressive to see so much exclusive attention and sympathy lavished upon a woman whose life has been so conveniently warped. And, despite some rather classy histrionics, Miss Crawford in this role appears more a representation of a pampered actress than of a truly jangled dame.

We'd like to sense, for instance, more respect and sympathy for Van Heflin, who is eminently worth it as the lover whom Miss Crawford shoots, or for Raymond Massey, who is sketched but lightly as the poor, unlucky man who marries her. Both of these unhappy fellows are given much too short and casual shrift. And we'd like to see treated more fully the role played by Geraldine Brooks, a newcomer who Hepburns brightly and warmly as Miss Crawford's sensitive step-daughter.

However, it is wholly obvious that the writers and Director Curt Bernhardt were told to concentrate on the torments of Miss Crawford, Hollywood's current Great Sufferer, Academy style.

James Agee in Time (1947):

    Most of it is filmed with unusual imaginativeness and force. The film is uncommonly well acted...Though she is not quite up to her hardest scenes, Miss Crawford is generally excellent, performing with the passion and intelligence of an actress who is not content with just one Oscar. In fact, the weaknesses in this unusual movie do not greatly matter beside the fact that a lot of people who have a lot to give are giving it all they've got.

Howard Barnes in the New York Herald Tribune (1947):

    Miss Crawford is at her best in the mad scenes. The actress has obviously studied the aspects of insanity to re-create a rather terrifying portrait of a woman possessed by devils.

Dennis Schwartz on Ozus' World Reviews website (2003):

MonsterHunter website (2004):

Scifilm website review.

Disabilityfilms website review.

All reader reviews published here are copyright of the respective author and may not be reproduced elsewhere without permission from the author.

Harley (November 2007)

First, I don't think Possessed is a noir even though there are noir elements. There's not the moral ambiguity, the choice between good and evil and the equal appeal that there is in so much noir. Also, most of the characters are pretty decent people and the crime that's committed isn't out of lust or greed but insanity. It's kind of like a dark weepie. Drew Casper (I always like his commentaries) in the audio commentary argues that noir is a style of movie making. I've always seen it as more of a genre. Either way though I can't see the Robinson movie House of Strangers as a noir even though Fox is selling it that way.

Possessed is a very interesting piece though. It combines a number of elements. In the middle section, when Joan's Louise is visiting the lake house, it could have almost been Val Lewton psychological horror. That was the whole essence of Cat People-- is she really a monster or is it in her mind and more importantly is there a difference?

When I saw the plot description I thought it was going to be a Fatal Attraction-type deal. It wasn't that at all. The Crawford character is very likable and sympathetic througout. Reaching out to the daughter at the college was an act of human decency they wouldn't have granted Glenn Close.

Heflin's David to me is the villain of the piece if there is one. His character is kind of one of those annoying people who doesn't want someone but doesn't want them to have someone else. He has a right to pick whom he chooses but he keeps inserting himself in her life. The day after he dumps her, he decides to pay her boss a visit. At the wedding he stops by even though neither Crawford or Raymond Massey invited him. While there he's completely insensitive. Meanwhile he then chooses to date her step-daughter knowing full well that if it goes anywhere, it will create more pain and awkardness for Crawford. It is clear to him by her own admission that this is Crawford's first true love. And he risks and eventually does insert a constant permanent reminder of that painful loss into her life. He treats terribly at the opera when she is basically doing the decent thing. In many ways I feel he is reinforcing her psychosis by making her more worthless and reminding her of her passion for him.

While the Crawford character sticks around for him at first, she marries Massey because she needs the attention and so does he. She's up front about not being in love with him. The moment she's put some of her demons to bed and is ready to be happy with Massey, he shows up with the daughter. To paraphrase Major Rufus T. Cobb from the Jesse James' movies: "Maybe he needed killing."

I would have preferred that David's killing be in her mind as well though. It would have increased the Lewton-like ambiguous tension.

I find it interesting that despite the image of a ballsy dame portrayed in Mommie Dearest that Joan's screen persona was often very delicate and fragile like it is here or in Grand Hotel or The Unknown or even Baby Jane. (I haven't seen the Castle flicks where her persona hardened though.)

Danny (August 2005)

From the moment we see her shuffling across town in a comatose stupor to the homicidal climax, this is Joan’s picture all the way. It is also one of her best, once you get past all that contrived psychobabble.

James (June 2005)
Rating: of 5

Fresh from her triumphant performances in Mildred Pierce and Humoresque, Joan Crawford was at the top of her game in 1947. She could have starred in any number of top-flight films, and yet (in what I can only attribute to a case of momentary diva-envy) she instead decided to star in a film originally intended for Bette Davis, whose career projectile at this point was on its way down. Tailored for Miss Davis, Possessed was appropriately scripted as a semi-B movie intended for a falling star, not someone whose career was red-hot after winning an Academy Award two years previously. However, fate intervened and Bette, pregnant with her future poison-penned daughter BD, decided to opt out of Possessed and Joan snapped it up with alarming alacrity. I like to "pretend" that Joan didn't read the script...or at least that she was "in her 100 proof cups" when she did so. Because what Possessed eventually turned into is nothing more than an extravagantly grand display of "my male appendage is bigger than yours," clearly designed to piss off her rival. Unfortunately, Joan's efforts were spectacularly misguided, and I have the very distinct feeling that when she eventually saw Possessed, Miss Davis ended up having the last laugh.

The movie starts out in a promising manner, with shots of Joan wandering city streets, which immediately evokes memories of Mildred Pierce. But instead of "film noir," we get "preachy, out-dated psycho-babble" when Joan's character quickly ends up in a mental hospital being probed and prodded by a couple of hammy doctors straight from central casting. It's all downhill from there, and the audience is treated to endless scenes of head-clutching, hallucinatory, eye popping "insanity" (1940s style), with Joan suffering repeated mental-meltdowns and generally acting like Miss Davis herself on speed.

And the costumes...the horror!!! Poor Adrian must be burning in hell for the gawd-awful glad-rags he shackled Joan with ("shackled" being the operative word). With peculiar buckles and strappy-things hanging oddly from her austere, severely lined dresses (which were clearly intended to invoke images of strait-jackets), Joan resembles a couturier-gowned psycho on a day-pass at Macy's. In one memorable scene, sequined straps dangle distractingly beneath her bosom, accentuating her breasts like some sort of "psychologist recommended" push-up bra. Joan, suffering yet another breakdown, proceeds to laugh hysterically, which causes the straps to jiggle and swing wildly. The viewer watches in stunned amusement, and is left to ponder the very deep question: "What the HELL was Joan thinking when she agreed to star in this drek??!!!" But Joan cannot be blamed. All of the evidence points to BD Hyman, whose unfortunately timed birth (can you hear Bette cackling?) is the ONLY reason Joan's otherwise illustrious career was blighted with this massive mis-fire of a movie.

Possessed '47 is like watching "Joanzilla: She-Monster of the Glamazon" ... which is not, I am sure, the intention Miss Crawford had in mind.