The Bad Seed (1956)

You may question whether a mere thriller, with no sci-fi or supernatural elements and no gore, belongs on a Halloween-type schedule. But I tend to find movies scarier when they're basically credible...and when they leave something to the imagination.

Besides, Mervyn LeRoy's The Bad Seed may easily call to mind genuine horrors like The Omen, if only because of the enfant terrible. I can't name many films about evil children, partly because not every filmmaker wants to get kids thoroughly involved in something not fit for family viewing, but they are a promising ingredient for disturbance if not fear. Think about it: Young children, especially girls, are commonly upheld as symbols of innocence. But I for one remember having worse ethics then than now; I was "innocent" only in the sense that I'd had little time or ability to do anything seriously bad. A child with a bit more of the right talent and know-how could do much worse. And eight-year-old Rhoda (Patty McCormack) is one such child.

We learn from the first scene that Rhoda tends to project sweetness as well as decent smarts, but she's also spoiled. And vain. You think millennials have an undue sense of entitlement? Wait'll you see her. Her behavior helps illustrate what C.S. Lewis touched on: the horrific similarity between sheer innocence and sheer amorality. While she understands enough about public moral standards to lie, she displays no sense of guilt or shame. (McCormack, looking back, realizes she really had something: Nobody taught her how to act like that.)

Rhoda's mother, Christine (Nancy Kelly), comes to believe that Rhoda has a rare, genetic mental disorder that skipped a generation and inhibits empathy. At the time, the theory was too new for diagnostic criteria. I don't know what modern psychologists would say, but I have no trouble believing that the disorder may exist.

Adding to Rhoda's image of false innocence are her traditional girly ways. Unlike the rest of her class, she wears a dress. She frequently plays "Au clair de la lune" on the piano, as my sister once did; now I may never hear it the same way again. (Come to think of it, our culture has mixed feelings about moonlight, alternately romanticizing and demonizing it. Maybe that inspired the choice.)

Unusually for the genre, the movie is based on a nonmusical play, itself based on a book. As a result, we get a lot more dialog than action, with few changes of scenery. Basically all violence takes place off screen, and that's fine by me. The ending was clearly contrived for the film adaptation, since plays weren't under the same restrictions in the '50s. On the plus side, the score is great.

Despite the studio's request that viewers not spoil the conclusion, I have to say that there aren't many surprises; a lot of developments can be seen a mile away. Nor do I think the characters, even Rhoda, have much intelligence to go around. But neither factor stops me from welcoming the thrills.