A year before Don Siegel lit up the box office with Dirty Harry, he directed Clint Eastwood in a movie that plays like its opposite number by turning the actor's antihero image inside out. A box office disappointment that has grown in stature over the years, The Beguiled offers an atmospheric take on Thomas Cullinan's Southern Gothic novel, The Painted Devil. Eastwood plays John McBurney, a Yankee soldier who finds himself up against a foe more formidable than the Confederacy: a community of independent-minded women.
It begins with Matthew Brady-style photos of the Civil War over which Eastwood sings a cautionary folk song about falling for a soldier. If he took hits for his singing in the critically-maligned musical Paint Your Wagon, he acquits himself nicely here. The still images segue to full-color as 12-year-old Amy (Pamelyn Ferden), out picking mushrooms, encounters the injured soldier. After she recovers from shock at the sight of the bloodied figure, she drags him to her boarding school where the women argue over their options. Do they turn him over to the Confederates, who will surely kill him, or nurse him to health?
They decide to get him back on his feet before considering their next step. Knowing that his fate lies in their hands, the bedridden McBurney identifies their vulnerabilities and sets out to bend each woman to his will. Only Hattie (blues singer Mae Mercer), the sole slave, can see through his ruse, but the power of numbers lies on her side (Sofia Coppola's 2017 remake omits her character to its detriment since it ignores the structural racism underpinning the war).
Once McBurney is strong enough to fend for himself, he returns the affections of flirtatious 17-year-old Carol (Jo Ann Harris), convinces virginal teacher Edwina (A Patch of Blue's Elizabeth Hartman in a deeply felt performance) that he loves her, and even makes formidable headmistress Martha (Sweet Bird of Youth's Geraldine Page in an unsettling turn) forget about her beloved brother (Siegel invented the suggestion of an incestuous relationship between the two). Slowly but surely, McBurney appears to be gaining the upper hand, thus setting the stage for his escape, when Edwina catches him in bed with Carol. In anger, she pushes him down the stairs, re-breaking the leg that was beginning to heal.
At a time when he needs their help the most, the women start to turn on him, culminating in an act of amateur surgery no less disturbing for the lack of graphic imagery. Now, much like James Caan's captive novelist in Rob Reiner's Misery, his options grow increasingly narrow. The battle of wills continues until something has to give, and it does. If Siegel takes a less overtly feminist approach than Coppola, this richer, more ambiguous work allows for a greater variety of interpretations. Eastwood's casting certainly goes a long way, since his charisma prevents McBurney from being just another cad in need of comeuppance. Diabolique editor-in-chief Kat Ellinger's commentary adroitly places the film within the context of Siegel and Eastwood's careers. Highly recommended.