Late in the Civil War, wounded Union Corporal John McBurney (Clint Eastwood) takes refuge in a Louisiana girls school. McBurney manipulates the girls, drawing the particular attention of repressed teacher Edwina (Elizabeth Hartmann) and flirty Carol (Jo Ann Harris). Even stern headmistress Martha Fernsworth (Geraldine Page) takes a shine to McBurney, shielding him from Confederate patrols. But when McBurney pushes things too far, the girls plot a fiendish revenge.
The Beguiled is an odd duck. Its style recalls European art cinema more than Siegel's usual action fare. Beyond the narrative psychodrama, it's dripping with sexual symbolism, portentous narration and elliptical flashbacks. The oddest moment is Martha's vision of an orgy staged as religious art, a tableaux recalling Pasolini. Siegel lets the atmosphere run wild, helped by the creepy setting and Bruce Surtee's moody photography.
The sexual politics are inscrutable. McBurney crudely represents the male Id. He's a swooning romantic who's a leching Lothario; in his very first scene, he smooches the 12 year old Amy (Pamelyn Ferdin). He's an hero whose stories of wartime heroics are a lie. Representing the abolitionist Union, he promises slave Hallie (Mae Mercer) freedom before threatening to rape her. When his masculinity's challenged he resorts to threats, threatening to loose Union soldiers on the school until he "gets his fill" of the girls. How much is act, how much honesty remains unclear.
If McBurney's a chauvinist pig, the women are stock archetypes. Martha's rigid demeanor hides shameful secrets and unacknowledged longings. Most disturbingly, she falls for John after noticing his resemblance to her brother! Edwina (rigid innocent) and Carol (flirtatious tart) represent other easy female types. All are eager to screw or (figuratively) castrate their guest. Not exactly flattering.
In this regard, The Beguiled is schizophrenic. Perhaps Siegel wants to contrast the male madness of war with female sexual repression (highlighted, perhaps, by the opening montage of Matthew Brady photos). In this view, both are equally destructive. It's an awkward point to argue: however nasty McBurney acts, it's hard to read the film as feminist. Ultimately he's victimized by both men and women, his churlishness almost justified.
The Beguiled is memorable even if you stick to the surface. The movie starts off as moody melodrama, then slowly transforms into horror film. Between the baroque symbolism and hothouse sexuality, the movie tilts perilously close to camp - but Siegel retains an even keel. The terror builds through very personal traumas (dismemberment, animal cruelty) towards a disturbingly muted finale. McBurney's fate is an unremarkable tragedy in a country torn by madness.
Clint Eastwood does remarkable work. Having made his bones playing macho action stars, Eastwood seemed to relish sending up that image. His "McB" is a sleazeball from the word go, callously manipulating girls innocent and learned throughout. He's a thoroughly selfish character, eager to assert his machismo by hook or crook. For actors who know Clint as a monosyllabic squinter, it's a revelation. Outside of Unforgiven, it's easily his best performance.
Geraldine Page (Hondo) proves appropriately domineering. Between her warped sexuality and callous attitude towards McBurney's life and limb, she makes Mrs. Appleyard look well-adjusted. Among the girls, Elizabeth Hartman and Jo Ann Harris obviously stand out - though Mae Mercer's strong-willed slave makes an impression. Scabby character actors Matt Clark, Charlie Briggs and Charles Martin represent the only other male interlopers.
The Beguiled is a strange movie no matter how you slice it. Art film? Character study? Hothouse melodrama? Psychological horror? Misogynist fantasy? Either way, it's refreshingly different.
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