Written by Nunnally Johnson
Directed by Robert Siodmak
U.S.A., 1946
A doctor is found murdered in his own condo one morning by the cleaning lady, a knife plunged into his heart. The police, led by the lively Lt. Stevenson (Thomas Mitchell), learn very soon of a possible suspect…or suspects. The recently departed had in fact proposed to a lovely looking girl named Terry Collins (Olivia de Havilland), presently the prime suspect in the investigation, that is, until Stevenson discovers the existence of her twin sister Ruth (de Havilland as well). Neither will reveal very much about who was where and doing what on the night of the murder, putting Stevenson in quite the pickle. Enter psychiatrist Scott Elliot (Lew Ayres), who has dedicated his academic and professional life to the study of twin siblings. He accepts to assist Stevenson by having private sessions with each sister individually. Are either of them the killer? If so, which one? What happens when Scott starts to fall in love with one of them?
The Dark Mirror is the sort of film that, if remade today, would certainly have a vastly different vibe to it. The premise is one screenwriters and directors have mined many an occasion since this 1946 romantic thriller. From action films (Double Impact), to grisly psychological dramas (Dead Ringers), the premise of the dichotomous twin sibling syndrome is definitely familiar to many seasoned movie watchers. Director Robert Siodmak never shied away thrillers with female characters in starring roles, The Phantom Lady and The Spiral Staircase being two very fine examples. His efforts here are commendable, although it is difficult to shake the feeling that the story develops is such a way that every plot beat develops very easily, more like the script demanded it rather in any meaningfully organic fashion. Its qualities make it worth any film noir fan’s time, only one should perhaps not come to expect a movie that rises above and beyond most expectations.
For one, the set-up is dealt with quite awkwardly. Lt. Stevenson is flabbergasted upon learning that Ruth (whom the lieutenant believes to be in fact Terry, the actual original suspect) has a twin sister, and so he should. Why the latter never makes this clear upon being interrogated is ambiguous, but not in the good sense. Stranger still is the duo’s utmost refusal to divulge any information as to each one’s whereabouts and activities on the night of the terrible crime. The viewer learns that because of their dumbfounding similarity the police cannot possibly hold any accusation on either if they refuse to talk, thus letting them go free. Fair enough, although the entire ordeal is handled sloppily. It is difficult to fathom why they simply do not openly deny having done anything wrong. Remaining silent comes off as a serious obstruction of justice, and given that the viewer is supposed to believe that one of the sisters apparently has a conscience, it makes it very odd when neither cooperates in the slightest.
The middle second of the film is a bit hit and miss as well. While Scott’s numerous activities when studying each subject sequentially is interesting, a lot of time passes with incremental discoveries being made, ones that surely could have been arrived at with more dynamic scenes. The inkblot picture test, as it is referred to in the film, produces disparate results for each subject that are so obvious and predictable it is somewhat surprising the filmmakers did not conjure up something with a bit more gusto to arrive at the same revelations. In a film that lasts barely 90 minutes, every minute needs to count.
With those criticisms out of the way, it should be noted that most of the rest of the picture is really quite good. Of course, any discussion concerning The Dark Mirror is incomplete without reference to Olivia de Havilland’s standout performance as the Collins twins. What makes her efforts so memorable is not the manner in which she forces different mannerism through her acting, but rather how she makes said differences as subtle as possible, save, unsurprisingly, when the stakes are raised near the film’s climax, at which point each sister’s true colours shine brightly. In truth, with the exception of when each character’s name is uttered, it is difficult to tell each apart. Scenes transpiring in their modest apartment home when no third party is around are downright eerie for how similar they are. Speech patterns, body language, empathy shown towards the other, Terry and Ruth could hardly be more identical. Obviously, being played by the same actor goes a long way in establishing that creepy sisterly semblance, yet much of the credit should go to star de Havilland for not playing fast and loose with each role’s characteristics, instead making it as confusing as possible for the viewers, and poor Scott Elliot, to tell them apart, notwithstanding the slightest of details. Better still, apart from a few scenes in which the camera trickery is too obvious, the presence of ‘two’ Olivia de Havillands looks very convincing on screen. To put it bluntly, the effect looks really cool.
Her two male co-stars are up to the task of making the most of out their scenes too. Thomas Mitchell, as Lt. Stevenson, is used primarily during the first and final third, both sections that deal much more with the police investigation, and each is all the better for his charisma. Of note is that his scenes are played with a dash of comedy instead of being drenched in utter seriousness as would be expected from most films of this ilk, which might be a little off putting for some that have come expecting a gritty thriller. Lew Ayres, in turn, is smooth and classy as psychiatrist Scott Elliot. He is certainly intrigued by the prospect of studying each sister, albeit still reticent at having to do it at the behest of the police, unbeknownst to the patients. When his feelings for one of them grows stronger, the sessions become all more testing, not only for the Collins girls, but for him as well. When both of them demonstrate affections for him, the situation becomes a bit too precarious for his own good. Through it all, Ayres plays the part with class and sophistication, trying as he might to subdue whatever nervousness is building up when it becomes quite apparent that one of them is indeed a little off her rocker.
Thematically, The Dark Mirror tackles the sticky subject of sibling rivalry. Brothers and sisters can but only love each other ultimately, yet there is little point in denying that some relationships are peppered with envy, jealousy and even a degree of animosity. Just because two or more people are from the same parents does not imply that they must show nothing but love for one another. In the case of the Collins twins, the rift is deep-seeded, rarely poking its ugly head, lending any rise in tension between the two terrific impact. They live together and support one another, but therein might lie one of their problems: they are together so much and so incredible similar that whenever something, anything comes between them, suddenly their differences are made all the clearer. Flashes of anger between people who normally show nothing but respect and love is just as discomforting, if not more so, than anger between long standing enemies.
While imperfect, The Dark Mirror is nonetheless impressive for its leading performances from Olive de Havilland. It’s subtle for the better part of the picture, only veering into obvious theatrics when called for. The visual inclusion of the actress twice in the same frame is deftly handled and her roles are supported by fine turns from Lew Ayres and Thomas Mitchell. Director Robert Siodmak has a few films in his career that reach greater heights, but The Dark Mirror is worth a spin at least once.
-Edgar Chaput