Rating: of 5

[Warning! Spoiler!]

My mom had a collection of old books and during the summer I was 16, I read the book and loved it. When I saw this was coming on, I taped it on my dvr.

So disappointed!

I would have preferred to see Burt Lancaster or a Clark Gable-type as Beauty and frankly, Betsy Palmer was more Eva in my mind than old-washed up Crawford.  Such a disappointment.

And did they change the ending? I can't remember now, but I thought that it was Beauty who finally killed them in a fiery crash.

Jonathan from RI (July 2005)

Rating: of 5

James (March 2005)

Rating: of 5

Reviewing this film is difficult, mainly because watching it made me feel sad. Not sad as in “touching” or "moving," but sad in the sense that it was unpleasant to watch the great Joan Crawford reduced to working in what was nothing more than a down-market “B” picture dressed up with “A” costumes. The cast, other than Joan, is entirely unremarkable, the script and direction are weak, and the plot is a misguided attempt at Tennessee Williams, minus any intelligence or point (think “Cat on a Hot Tin Roof” meets “Dynasty” and that pretty much sums it up).

The story concerns a rich southern family, but not one of the actors in the film speaks with anything resembling a southern accent. This is a glaring omission, and right away indicative of trouble ahead. The family members are nasty and thoroughly dislikable: the alcoholic husband shoots the dog, the children spit on nannies, and the wife (Joan’s character) is a vain, insufferable bitch who beds any man she fancies and enjoys being cruel to those who oppose her.

In many ways, the movie is a vanity piece centered around Joan: there are umpteen references to how “beautiful” she is, and even when Joan’s not on-screen, the other characters do nothing but talk about her. And Joan seems to lap it all up, preening absurdly before mirrors and sashaying around in glamorous but much too tight Jean Louis gowns. The sad part is that Joan was fifty years old at this point in her career, and she looked it. This movie was made near the beginning of Joan’s “scary eyebrows” period, and the dreadful hairdo she wears (which looks like one of Jane Wyman’s old wigs) emphasizes her thick, dark brows, making her appear unnecessarily hard and severe. She was clearly too old to be playing the mother of small children (in Strait-Jacket it‘s at least funny, in Queen Bee it‘s just dumb), and even though her figure was still good, the overtly sexy costumes she wears look ridiculous (especially the skin-tight sequined dress, which reminded me of a cast-off from Jayne Mansfield‘s closet).

Another drawback about the tight, structured costumes is that Joan comes across as stiff and wooden at times, almost as though she was restrained by her clothes (the clothes seem to be wearing her, instead of the other way around). There are a few strange moments in the film where she barely moves and resembles a mannequin, and then when she does finally move it seems like she’s posing uncomfortably instead of acting. At other points, she moves as though she‘s in a fashion show, turning this way and that while she fusses with her skirt or her belt. Her performance, in my opinion, suffers greatly because of this and all you notice are her clothes.

The only times she comes alive are during four key scenes (which, not coincidentally, are also her best moments in the film): when she trashes a room with a riding crop, when she slaps Lucy Marlow at the bottom of the staircase, when she breaks down in front of a mirror and smears cold cream all over her reflection, and the scene in the car where she struggles for control of the steering wheel. Otherwise, her performance seems stiff, self-conscious and contrived.

Which leads me to something else which becomes painfully apparent while watching Queen Bee: Faye Dunaway obviously used this movie as “How to be Joan Crawford 101” in order to prepare to play Joan in Mommie Dearest. Christina Crawford wrote in her book that her mother’s performance in Queen Bee was the way Joan was in real life, and Ms. Dunaway clearly took this suggestion to heart. The scenes I mentioned above are the most glaring examples of Faye‘s over-the-top mimicry, and the immediate connection between Joan smearing cold cream on a mirror in Queen Bee and Faye playing Joan with cold cream smeared on her face during the infamous “no wire hangers” scene in Mommie Dearest made me wince. As well, the set designer on Mommie Dearest blatantly copied the lay-out of the entrance foyer and staircase in Queen Bee, dressing it up as “art deco” instead of “50’s southern chic” in order to represent Joan’s home. Even the crinkly sheer curtains on the windows are the same, and as Joan paused on the staircase in a black gown in Queen Bee, I again winced at the mental image I flashed of Faye standing on the staircase holding baby Christina like an Academy Award in Mommie Dearest.

Queen Bee is not a movie I would recommend. It fails, in my opinion, as a period piece or even as a “camp classic." Joan is woefully mis-cast (Lana Turner or Susan Hayward, who were the right age at the time, would‘ve been much better choices for the role), the plot is muddled and absurd, the supporting cast is weak, and the unavoidable comparisons to Mommie Dearest (and possibly to Joan’s own life) are uncomfortable and rather off-putting. Bedeviled by middle age, bad scripts and competition from younger actresses, and desperately in need of a talented hairdresser and a good pair of tweezers, Queen Bee only emphasizes the fact that the 1950’s were indeed very unkind to Joan Crawford.

Memorable Lines

“Oh, they’re so smug and namby-pamby!” [Swings riding crop violently and knocks trophies off the mantle] “I wish I could get rid of them as easy as this trash!” Eva to Jenny.

“You’re like some fancy kind of disease. I had it once…now I’m immune.” Judson to Eva.

“Whatever you are, Eva, you’re on wheels.” Avery to Eva.

Stephanie (January 2005)

Rating: of 5

Hampered by the most distractingly bad hairstyle of her 45 years in film, Joan as Eva Phillips nonetheless manages to ride roughshod over her family members, with methods ranging from the mental (cutting remarks) to the physical (riding crops, phone cords/scarves around necks, jabbed pencils). Eva's carryings-on are all very outré---suggesting, perhaps, to a serious-minded '50s filmgoer that she was in need of a comeuppance, but today probably inspiring sentiments more along the lines of "You go, girl!"

Eva is the Queen Bee of a Southern household that is painfully obsessed with her. Even when she's not in the room, all talk centers around her---what she's done in the past, how wicked and cruel she still is. Newly arrived, innocent cousin Jenny (Lucy Marlow), sent for by Eva, doesn't believe a word of it. She staunchly defends Eva, brings her breakfast in bed, runs her baths, allows Eva to arrange her clothes and her dates...

Jenny's wide-eyed idealism is crushed, though, once she sees Eva and the husband-to-be (Judson, played by John Ireland) of Eva's own sister-in-law (Carol, played by Betsy Palmer) in a desperate clinch and witnesses Eva's later machinations to keep the two from marrying. All the sordid family secrets are then revealed: Eva's stealing her own husband Avery (Barry Sullivan) away from the as-a-result-addled Sue (Fay Wray); Eva's tricking Avery into marriage and driving him to drink and being the cause of the scar on his face; Eva's long-term, ongoing affair with Judson... Why, that Eva really is hard and wicked! (And interestingly kinky... Check out the scene where she's calling a friend to beg off attending a party, while simultaneously looping the phone cord around Judson's neck and tugging on it!)

The overt wickedness does abate in a few instances, which make the movie interesting and keep it from being too one-note obvious: First, there's a brief early scene where Jenny brings Eva breakfast in bed. It's lifted pretty much from the newlywed breakfast scene in 1952's Sudden Fear, and Joan gets to play drowsy-and-cute and human. And the scene where Eva and Jenny are clearing out Carol's room---Eva starts out just plain mean, walking around casually knocking Carol's knick-knacks from shelves, and she's pretty scary when she picks up the riding crop and begins to really whack things with it... But in between the destruction, as Jenny quivers in fear, Eva also tells Jenny about what has driven her to this point. Apparently, in the back-story that we don't get to see onscreen, the family that she married into has tried to hurt her: "You don't know the things they've made me do trying to protect myself." Having seen Eva at her worst, we don't quite know whether to believe this, but in this context her rationale for her behavior seems at least partially plausible.

A final human note comes near the end of the film, after Eva has threatened Avery with blackmail (and poked him with a pencil!)---she'll reveal his and Jenny's mutual attraction to the papers if he tries to leave her. A scene or so later, Avery does an about-face and pretends to be the doting husband. Eva's overt gratitude for his sudden attention (and her obliviousness to his obvious act) is rather moving and sad. She really has loved him the whole time and has been hungry for his affection, which he's withheld for years in favor of drinking himself into a constant stupor...

In a later interview with Lawrence Quirk, Joan said of the film: "No, it's not Eugene O'Neill. I suppose there are contrived moments, silly spots. But I have no apologies. It was a study of a woman who makes everyone around her miserable because of her own unhappiness, and on that level it works." It does indeed work on that level. Unfortunately, Eva's moments of humanity are so few and far between that what we're mostly left with is an onslaught of outrageous behavior that's fun for viewers today who are well-atuned to the camp angle, but ultimately depressing and harsh when viewed purely as a straight (so to speak) narrative.

Memorable Lines

"There. Now I'm ready for people." Eva, after making her grand entrance and downing a drink.

"My, Carol, you look sweet. Even in those tacky old riding clothes." Eva to sister-in-law.

"You're so quiet, we'll have to put a bell on you." Eva to cousin Jenny.

Jenny about Eva: "She feels guilty. She's punishing herself."

Carol: "Don't worry about it. She'll be gentle."

"Don't come between me and my liquor. You'll get knocked down." Avery to Eva.

"Eva does it better. She does everything better." Judd to Jenny as she primps before a mirror.

Avery: "I've made a decision."

Eva: "Really. A whole decision all by yourself."

"Any man's my man if I want it that way." Eva to Carol.