This is pretty rare: a movie that was highly esteemed when new, both at home and overseas, but did so poorly at the box office that the production company folded. I don't recall how it got my attention, but it did receive a Best Actress Oscar nod, losing to Mary Poppins. Well, at least Julie Andrews didn't have to fake a British accent.
In London, alleged medium Myra Savage (Kim Stanley) badly wants money, which doesn't come easily when husband Billy (Richard Attenborough) is too asthmatic to hold a job. She persuades Billy to kidnap Amanda Clayton (Judith Donner), preteen daughter of aristocrats. Instead of the typical scheme of simply pocketing ransom money, Myra plans to fake a séance to determine where to find Amanda, hoping to gain renown and thus so much business that she can pay back the "borrowed" ransom. Charles Clayton (Mark Eden) doesn't believe in her powers, but his wife (Nanette Newman) does, and Charles has to admit that no other method is making headway.
It's actually not a very scary experience for Amanda. She wakes up from a chloroforming in what looks like a hospital bed, with Myra and Billy alternately "tending" to her in masks (looking a bit unprofessional in this era). Amanda finds numerous elements curious but not suspicious enough for resistance.
If this were an American film, I would expect AFI to have considered Myra for its list of greatest villains. While her derangement is not immediately obvious with the long pre-conspiracy intro, she wastes little time in putting us off. Her slow, breathy delivery alone seems condescending and/or hypnotic, and we soon see that she's either flaky or prone to gaslighting. I vote the latter, given the other verbal abuse she deals. When she recalls only one fight in their whole marriage, we understand that Billy simply gave up on reasoning with her. It's not entirely clear whether she really does commune with the spirit of her stillborn son, but once the crimes get underway, there can be no doubt that her cheerful confidence, complete lack of guilt, and only slight fear of getting caught are unwarranted.
Billy first comes across as a milquetoast of no notable skill. I can barely believe he's competent enough to carry out the crimes as far as he does. But the direr Myra's demands become, the more he finds his backbone again. In the end, it's not bad luck or missteps that foil her so much as moral disagreement.
Some sources describe SoaWA as a thriller; others leave it at drama if not melodrama. I'm in the latter camp. For all Myra's eeriness, we rarely get any sense of impending danger to anyone. Maybe a more Hitchcock-type director could push it over the edge for me. In truth, when I read the Netflix summary, I almost mistook it for a dark comedy, but I assure you it never tries to be funny.
I want to say it's great, but really, it's only fitfully so. The intense keeps giving way to the understated. The best I can say is that I can't think of other flicks like it, tho that may be partly because no modern studio would settle for it.
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