MOVIE OF THE DAY: "DOUBLE DOOR" (1934)

Weary of the Wicked Witch of the West? Numbed by Nurse Ratched? Bored by
Lizzie Borden? Then meet Victoria Van Brett, a millionairess who runs her Manhattan mansion like a 5th Avenue Ilsa Koch, only with less irony. When not intimidating her servants or driving her sister to the edge of insanity, Victoria is actively planning to dissolve her half-brother's marriage by any means necessary. Family: it's a wonderful thing.

Thanks likely to expired copyrights, Double Door has been officially unavailable for years. Based on a Broadway show from the year before, Double Door should, instead, be considered, like Island of Lost Souls, one of Paramount's great horror movies of the 1930s, where the monsters are scary because they're flesh-and-blood human beings that you yourself could have the misfortune of meeting.

Hey, sis, wassup?

Or being born into. For Victoria Van Brett calls the shots with all the evil cunning of a crime boss, only worse. At least a mafioso has a sentimental side when it comes to family. 

Not this dame. With ice cubes in place of her heart, voice and eyes, Victoria is bad news from the get-go. No character development here -- this is EVIL in caps, color and bold type. Before Double Door's 75 minutes are over, you'll be yelling "Lock her up!" until you're hoarse.

C'mon, Rip, just sock her in the puss for once in
your life!

You think your siblings hate your spouse? Victoria won't even let the organist play "Here Comes the Bride" at the wedding. She steals the wedding gifts. She refuses to hand over the pearl necklace that has been handed down to the bridges for generations. ("It was my mother's necklace!" Victoria hisses over and over.) She tries to convince her half- brother that his wife is carrying on with another man.

And when all that isn't enough, well, there's always that airtight, soundproof vault -- where she once put her sister Caroline for 24 hours -- to finally get her own way. 

To paraphrase the title of the stage play,
Caroline, just change!

Victoria, you see, is convinced that the bride, Anne Darrow is marrying into the family strictly for the moolah. And, in a nice proto-feminist twist, it's Anne who finally starts to stand up to Victoria. Her husband, Rip (yes, his name is Rip Van Brett), has been so psychologically beaten down over the years -- and so dependent on the financial help from Victoria -- that he, like Caroline, lack the spark to just leave and, you know, get a job. 

Perhaps it's the characters' utter lack of courage that would keep contemporary audiences from taking Double Door seriously. There's no subtlety in Mary Morris' portrayal of Victoria, either, no shades of gray to make you ponder why she became the harridan that she is. 

Nope, all it really comes down to is the possession of the $500,000 pearl necklace -- a family heirloom -- that drives her to the point of attempted murder. Had Double Door been in regular TV rotation like, say, Dracula, Carol Burnett would have a had a ball parodying her.

Don't you wish title credits were still like this?

But by Double Door's mid-point, even the most jaded viewer will be unnerved and eventually shouting at the screen. Mary Morris created the role of Victoria on stage, so the part was definitely in her blood by the time Paramount came calling. Lit from below, the better to accentuate her thin lips and evil eyes, Morris inhabits her character where you start to wonder if you're watching a performance or the real thing. I can't imagine the impact she made on stage.

And thank God for that.

And if you wonder why you've never heard of Mary Morris, Double Door was her only movie appearance, which is both a shame and a blessing. While you'll never have another chance to see what she was capable of, her absence from other roles makes sure you'll never think of her as simply an actor but the personification of evil.

Her co-star, Anne Revere (as Caroline) makes screen debut here. Like Morris, Revere repeats her Broadway role in her movie debut. Unlike Morris, however, she went on to a long successful film career, eventually picking up an Academy Award in 1946 for National Velvet.

Certainly if Academy Awards meant anything, Mary Morris would have received one for Double Door. Instead, the mannered, overrated Katherine Hepburn was the winner for Morning Glory. (Even the title irritates me). 

Good thing Kate never met Victoria Van Brett. She would have been shown that double door and never walked out again.

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