“Impossible to use one word to describe it”
A quote from Beryl Reid herself when trying to sum up ‘The Killing of Sister George’. I couldn’t agree more. It is often described as a comedy and yet I find the film both harrowing and sad. There are lines to make you laugh - Beryl Reid is given the best ones and plays them perfectly - but a comfortable watch this is not as we take a journey with these characters through power, loss, change and desire.
Writing about this film will involve some spoilers so if you have yet to see it be aware. The film was originally a play in 1964 and also starred Beryl Reid. In 1968 director Robert Aldrich (also known for directing ‘Whatever Happened to Baby Jane?’) brought it to screen and it became the first explicit representation of lesbianism in a Hollywood film. At the time both the UK and US press claimed it was a shocking revelation into a hidden world
The film centres around June Buckridge (Beryl Reid) who is an actress in ‘Applehurst’ – a BBC televison series. She plays a character called ‘Sister George’, much loved, kind to those around her. In real life she is the opposite, a drunken foul mouthed, sadistic rather butch lesbian. She is known as ‘George’ to everyone and rarely hides her true character– even living openly with another woman, Alice ‘Childe’ McNaught (Susannah York), a younger woman with a collection of Victorian dolls, who bears the brunt of George’s verbal and psychological assaults.
The volatile nature of their relationship is a complex one – swinging from serious to comic – and if at first we wonder why the two are together, the numerous insights into the differences and tensions between the characters show us it is perhaps these differences that bring them together and the relationship seems to suit them both.
For Childe it is a need to have a roof over her head and a ‘mother’ figure and for George a need for love and affection. George perhaps also likes to believe Childe needs her, “you couldn’t cross a road by yourself”, she says at one point to Childe. As the film progresses we see Childe growing stronger and more rebellious and it’s only when she admits “we have been together a long time, besides I don’t really have anywhere else to go” that we can draw our own conclusions.
George’s comment, “remember who pays the rent” perhaps makes us realise how insecure both of these characters are.
The fact that George may be on the brink of losing her job threatens her ‘role’ as provider and more importantly the relationship with Alice. If she can’t provide security for her and Alice then where does that leave them?
The numerous arguments make for difficult watching. Even the dolls become spectators it seems during some. These scenes juxtaposed with scenes from ‘Applehurst’ and the almost saintly Sister George only heightens the unpredictability of George’s mood swings.
During one scene, almost too repulsive to watch, a ritual between the two (“you know the drill”), George forces Childe to eat her cigar butt. The rules are broken by Childe though as she chooses to play her own game, acting as though she is enjoying the cigar butt – an act that enrages George who claims “you’re spoiling it for me” and indeed the routine seems to have been damaged forever as George continues with “you know once you spoil something you can never make it work again” – a sentiment that seems to reflect what is happening to their whole relationship.
Increasingly as the film progresses, their roles seem to change, Childe becomes the adult, George the child and the one who needs to be looked after.
For me the characters seem to be on the brink of change, and during the first half of the film as we are introduced to George and Childe’s way of living it seems inevitable that the discord in their relationship will lead to a moment where both characters must enter a new phase in their lives.
It takes the introduction of a third character to create this change - and one George does not want, battling and raging against it, becoming more and more frustrated at Childe and the world around her. Seeing them share the screen and the flat with a third person, as their world is disturbed by the arrival of Mercy Croft (Coral Browne) really feels like an intrusion on what they have.
Mercy Croft plays the villain in the film, appearing like a stereotypical predatory lesbian who wouldn’t look out of place on the cover of a lesbian pulp fiction book. Playing the bad guy, she also brings news that Sister George will be axed from ‘Applehurst’. It is clear she has a soft spot for Childe and clearer still she dislikes George, calling her a “dreary, inadequate, drunken old bag” and a “pathetic old dyke”.
Through Childe’s supposed innocence, George appears the opposite – she is very aware of the dangers a women like Mercy Croft presents (to her). One of the final exchanges between George and Childe leads to one of my favourite quotes in the whole film, with Childe defensively stating, “not all girls are raving bloody lesbians” and George answering, “that’s a misfortune that I’m perfectly aware of”.
Print that on a t-shirt and wear it with pride.
One of the fascinating moments in the film is when George and Childe, dressed up as Laurel and Hardy, go to the legendary ‘Gateways Club’ in London, where regulars at the club were filmed dancing and acted in scenes.
It was the first time camera coverage was permitted extensively in the club – and for the straight audience watching the film it was a glimpse into a hidden sub-culture. It is great to have this club documented in the film – it gives us the chance to see how things were and it is perhaps these scenes filmed at the club which date the film most. Every time I have seen the film I seem to watch with mouth open, a hint of hilarity almost beckoning me to make a joke. Watch it. You’ll see what I mean. It’s great, a female band plays as butch dance with femme and the array hair and clothes merge into one. It makes me slightly yearn for those days, it all seemed less complicated.
Interestingly Beryl Reid’s account of being in the Gateway Club is not too positive, quoted as saying in her biography, “If I had been here before I did the play I’d never have done it. I didn’t realise they held each other and went to the gents loo”.
George is ultimately to blame for her downfall, losing both job and relationship. She is a “bad boy”, assaulting nuns in the back of a taxi, getting repeatedly drunk, fighting with Childe, and walking off set. And yet, we want to see her survive. She’s the sort who will stick two fingers up at the powers that be, at rules and regulations and her less than pure sense of humour deserves an audience – at one point Croft remarks how cheerful the character of Sister George looks, in which George says “you’d look cheerful too with 50 cubic centimetres throbbing away between your legs”.
Although extremely funny there is a much deeper side to George – the strong character we see stomping down pathways at the very beginning of the film needs a place to cry as she learns Childe is lying to her. The torment in her voice as she screams at Childe is almost unbearable. Here is a woman, with a life slowly being broken down and made unrecognisable by those around her.
With Sister George now gone, George attends her own leaving party, her anger and frustration never far from boiling over. Being offered the part of Claribel the Cow in a new children’s programme does nothing to help the situation. Offended by this offer it could be the lowest she can sink.
However there is one more rung to fall and the blatant advances of Croft upon Childe lead to the inevitable.
I cannot of course write about this film without mentioning the infamous sex scene. I found out recently that Susannah York never felt comfortable with it. Maybe this is why I always feel a bit awkward watching it. At the time it was this sex scene that made the film X rated, although the only nudity we see are Childe’s breasts. It’s an odd scene, almost devoid of all emotion – there is no passion - and for me seems completely out of place in the film. The scene does not take place in the play and I wonder why it is included in the film. It’s hard to see its inclusion as anything other than to shock or titillate.
What did the audiences in the 1960’s think was happening I wonder, since the camera rarely strays from Childe’s face; if they didn’t know what lesbians did in bed they would be left very confused! Even Croft looks slightly embarrassed and uncomfortable as she kisses Childe, seemingly unsure of what reaction she will get.
And so the end of the film comes as a relief – the laughs having long gone. Change has finally come and it makes George confront Childe with the question “what’s going to happen?” and then using Childe’s secrets as weapons against her.
Even though Childe admits to being frightened, there is a sense she will be ok. She turns out to be quite shallow and blasé “Ta ta George thanks for everything” and where we once felt sorry for her, we almost end up not liking her. It is George we are left worrying about and where our sympathies lie. This sympathy and worry is heightened as we see George return to a darkened studio, stumbling around before smashing up the coffin of Sister George. This turns disturbing as she then collapses on to a bench and screams “Moo!” – a nod towards a future as Claribel the Cow - a desperate and pitying cry, no one around to hear or pay attention to. She cuts a truly lonely, tragic figure. Only the lazy could possibly describe this film as a comedy.
This was the first time in a Hollywood film the L word was used. It wasn’t used in the original play and even The Children’s Hour made 6 years previous did not mention it, despite the two females leads being accused of having an affair.
There was almost invisibility to gay women when this film was made; did this film then have a responsibility in making ‘the lesbian’ seen? I’m sure the director/writer was not focussing on portraying lesbians or their relationships in a flattering light. The characters here however are shone in such an unlikeable light we could even cry ‘unfair’ and ‘shame’ – was this done on purpose I wonder?
This was never a film made for lesbians, never one to call our own – if you were gay woman watching the film in 1968 it may have left you feeling slightly depressed and it is easy to see why the film received poor reviews from lesbian circles at the time. Unfortunately I fear many gay women nowadays will feel slightly offended by the portrayal on screen as there is nothing realistic or sensitive about these characters.
As with The Children’s Hour the film gives the idea that all lesbian relationships end in tears. It would take perhaps another 17 years before we would get the love story we wanted in Desert Hearts.
To conclude then – yes the film is very dated in places. I was actually left wishing I could see the play. Although quite an uncomfortable film to watch – the torturous arguments and tension is at times wearying, there is a lot to like, some hilarious writing and not to hear it would be missing out.
Perhaps it deserves to be held up with a little more respect if only for the energetic and flawless performance of Beryl Reid. It isn’t easy playing a character that flips from comic to tragic and she is the life and soul of the film. And we only have to look at how our own feelings change towards George to see how successful she is in playing the role.
Watch… but don’t expect an easy ride.
Review by Caz Maughan
A quote from Beryl Reid herself when trying to sum up ‘The Killing of Sister George’. I couldn’t agree more. It is often described as a comedy and yet I find the film both harrowing and sad. There are lines to make you laugh - Beryl Reid is given the best ones and plays them perfectly - but a comfortable watch this is not as we take a journey with these characters through power, loss, change and desire.
Writing about this film will involve some spoilers so if you have yet to see it be aware. The film was originally a play in 1964 and also starred Beryl Reid. In 1968 director Robert Aldrich (also known for directing ‘Whatever Happened to Baby Jane?’) brought it to screen and it became the first explicit representation of lesbianism in a Hollywood film. At the time both the UK and US press claimed it was a shocking revelation into a hidden world
The film centres around June Buckridge (Beryl Reid) who is an actress in ‘Applehurst’ – a BBC televison series. She plays a character called ‘Sister George’, much loved, kind to those around her. In real life she is the opposite, a drunken foul mouthed, sadistic rather butch lesbian. She is known as ‘George’ to everyone and rarely hides her true character– even living openly with another woman, Alice ‘Childe’ McNaught (Susannah York), a younger woman with a collection of Victorian dolls, who bears the brunt of George’s verbal and psychological assaults.
The volatile nature of their relationship is a complex one – swinging from serious to comic – and if at first we wonder why the two are together, the numerous insights into the differences and tensions between the characters show us it is perhaps these differences that bring them together and the relationship seems to suit them both.
For Childe it is a need to have a roof over her head and a ‘mother’ figure and for George a need for love and affection. George perhaps also likes to believe Childe needs her, “you couldn’t cross a road by yourself”, she says at one point to Childe. As the film progresses we see Childe growing stronger and more rebellious and it’s only when she admits “we have been together a long time, besides I don’t really have anywhere else to go” that we can draw our own conclusions.
George’s comment, “remember who pays the rent” perhaps makes us realise how insecure both of these characters are.
The fact that George may be on the brink of losing her job threatens her ‘role’ as provider and more importantly the relationship with Alice. If she can’t provide security for her and Alice then where does that leave them?
The numerous arguments make for difficult watching. Even the dolls become spectators it seems during some. These scenes juxtaposed with scenes from ‘Applehurst’ and the almost saintly Sister George only heightens the unpredictability of George’s mood swings.
During one scene, almost too repulsive to watch, a ritual between the two (“you know the drill”), George forces Childe to eat her cigar butt. The rules are broken by Childe though as she chooses to play her own game, acting as though she is enjoying the cigar butt – an act that enrages George who claims “you’re spoiling it for me” and indeed the routine seems to have been damaged forever as George continues with “you know once you spoil something you can never make it work again” – a sentiment that seems to reflect what is happening to their whole relationship.
Increasingly as the film progresses, their roles seem to change, Childe becomes the adult, George the child and the one who needs to be looked after.
For me the characters seem to be on the brink of change, and during the first half of the film as we are introduced to George and Childe’s way of living it seems inevitable that the discord in their relationship will lead to a moment where both characters must enter a new phase in their lives.
It takes the introduction of a third character to create this change - and one George does not want, battling and raging against it, becoming more and more frustrated at Childe and the world around her. Seeing them share the screen and the flat with a third person, as their world is disturbed by the arrival of Mercy Croft (Coral Browne) really feels like an intrusion on what they have.
Mercy Croft plays the villain in the film, appearing like a stereotypical predatory lesbian who wouldn’t look out of place on the cover of a lesbian pulp fiction book. Playing the bad guy, she also brings news that Sister George will be axed from ‘Applehurst’. It is clear she has a soft spot for Childe and clearer still she dislikes George, calling her a “dreary, inadequate, drunken old bag” and a “pathetic old dyke”.
Through Childe’s supposed innocence, George appears the opposite – she is very aware of the dangers a women like Mercy Croft presents (to her). One of the final exchanges between George and Childe leads to one of my favourite quotes in the whole film, with Childe defensively stating, “not all girls are raving bloody lesbians” and George answering, “that’s a misfortune that I’m perfectly aware of”.
Print that on a t-shirt and wear it with pride.
One of the fascinating moments in the film is when George and Childe, dressed up as Laurel and Hardy, go to the legendary ‘Gateways Club’ in London, where regulars at the club were filmed dancing and acted in scenes.
It was the first time camera coverage was permitted extensively in the club – and for the straight audience watching the film it was a glimpse into a hidden sub-culture. It is great to have this club documented in the film – it gives us the chance to see how things were and it is perhaps these scenes filmed at the club which date the film most. Every time I have seen the film I seem to watch with mouth open, a hint of hilarity almost beckoning me to make a joke. Watch it. You’ll see what I mean. It’s great, a female band plays as butch dance with femme and the array hair and clothes merge into one. It makes me slightly yearn for those days, it all seemed less complicated.
Interestingly Beryl Reid’s account of being in the Gateway Club is not too positive, quoted as saying in her biography, “If I had been here before I did the play I’d never have done it. I didn’t realise they held each other and went to the gents loo”.
George is ultimately to blame for her downfall, losing both job and relationship. She is a “bad boy”, assaulting nuns in the back of a taxi, getting repeatedly drunk, fighting with Childe, and walking off set. And yet, we want to see her survive. She’s the sort who will stick two fingers up at the powers that be, at rules and regulations and her less than pure sense of humour deserves an audience – at one point Croft remarks how cheerful the character of Sister George looks, in which George says “you’d look cheerful too with 50 cubic centimetres throbbing away between your legs”.
Although extremely funny there is a much deeper side to George – the strong character we see stomping down pathways at the very beginning of the film needs a place to cry as she learns Childe is lying to her. The torment in her voice as she screams at Childe is almost unbearable. Here is a woman, with a life slowly being broken down and made unrecognisable by those around her.
With Sister George now gone, George attends her own leaving party, her anger and frustration never far from boiling over. Being offered the part of Claribel the Cow in a new children’s programme does nothing to help the situation. Offended by this offer it could be the lowest she can sink.
However there is one more rung to fall and the blatant advances of Croft upon Childe lead to the inevitable.
I cannot of course write about this film without mentioning the infamous sex scene. I found out recently that Susannah York never felt comfortable with it. Maybe this is why I always feel a bit awkward watching it. At the time it was this sex scene that made the film X rated, although the only nudity we see are Childe’s breasts. It’s an odd scene, almost devoid of all emotion – there is no passion - and for me seems completely out of place in the film. The scene does not take place in the play and I wonder why it is included in the film. It’s hard to see its inclusion as anything other than to shock or titillate.
What did the audiences in the 1960’s think was happening I wonder, since the camera rarely strays from Childe’s face; if they didn’t know what lesbians did in bed they would be left very confused! Even Croft looks slightly embarrassed and uncomfortable as she kisses Childe, seemingly unsure of what reaction she will get.
And so the end of the film comes as a relief – the laughs having long gone. Change has finally come and it makes George confront Childe with the question “what’s going to happen?” and then using Childe’s secrets as weapons against her.
Even though Childe admits to being frightened, there is a sense she will be ok. She turns out to be quite shallow and blasé “Ta ta George thanks for everything” and where we once felt sorry for her, we almost end up not liking her. It is George we are left worrying about and where our sympathies lie. This sympathy and worry is heightened as we see George return to a darkened studio, stumbling around before smashing up the coffin of Sister George. This turns disturbing as she then collapses on to a bench and screams “Moo!” – a nod towards a future as Claribel the Cow - a desperate and pitying cry, no one around to hear or pay attention to. She cuts a truly lonely, tragic figure. Only the lazy could possibly describe this film as a comedy.
This was the first time in a Hollywood film the L word was used. It wasn’t used in the original play and even The Children’s Hour made 6 years previous did not mention it, despite the two females leads being accused of having an affair.
There was almost invisibility to gay women when this film was made; did this film then have a responsibility in making ‘the lesbian’ seen? I’m sure the director/writer was not focussing on portraying lesbians or their relationships in a flattering light. The characters here however are shone in such an unlikeable light we could even cry ‘unfair’ and ‘shame’ – was this done on purpose I wonder?
This was never a film made for lesbians, never one to call our own – if you were gay woman watching the film in 1968 it may have left you feeling slightly depressed and it is easy to see why the film received poor reviews from lesbian circles at the time. Unfortunately I fear many gay women nowadays will feel slightly offended by the portrayal on screen as there is nothing realistic or sensitive about these characters.
As with The Children’s Hour the film gives the idea that all lesbian relationships end in tears. It would take perhaps another 17 years before we would get the love story we wanted in Desert Hearts.
To conclude then – yes the film is very dated in places. I was actually left wishing I could see the play. Although quite an uncomfortable film to watch – the torturous arguments and tension is at times wearying, there is a lot to like, some hilarious writing and not to hear it would be missing out.
Perhaps it deserves to be held up with a little more respect if only for the energetic and flawless performance of Beryl Reid. It isn’t easy playing a character that flips from comic to tragic and she is the life and soul of the film. And we only have to look at how our own feelings change towards George to see how successful she is in playing the role.
Watch… but don’t expect an easy ride.
Review by Caz Maughan
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