his is the story of evil.” The sawmill is the heart and pulse of little Loyalton, Wisconsin. But the desirable Rosa (Bette Davis), the wife of wealthy Dr. Lewis Moline (Joseph Cotten), is often the biggest attraction – living in the finest house, far from the noise of the mill, but always eyeing the train to Chicago, as if desperate to escape. And, certainly, today she’s the absolute center of the town’s attention, as she’s the subject of a coroner’s inquest, accusing her of killing a man. “It was an accident!”

Five months earlier, Rosa and her husband are trout fishing alongside old friend Moose Lawson (Minor Watson), heading to a secluded, waterside cabin for a pleasant vacation. Just after they arrive, Rosa complains of a sore ankle, but it appears as if she’s specifically designing a scenario for wickedness; she makes sure to ply Moose with liquor after sending Lewis back to town with a note about the emergency early arrival of a baby. Then she sets herself up cozily by the massive fireplace in the spacious lodge down the road, where she anxiously awaits the arrival of secret lover Neil K. Latimer (David Brian). “One drink leads to another…”

Interestingly, Davis is a villain from the start; she isn’t given a second of innocence or goodness, always acting aloof and annoyed and seething with contempt, even going out of her way to kill a porcupine just minding its own business in a far-off tree. Plus, she has no skills or interests in caring for anything or anyone, nor is she grateful for what she has (“What a dump!”). And she’s only interested in Neil because of his considerable fortunes; she views him as a ticket to get out of her overbearing routines (despite those including zero chores and sizable means among the locals). But she expects a marriage; it has to be official if she’s to secure her future. So what is there to do about the pesky spouse she already has?

As dislikable characters go, Rosa is at the top; she relishes in the townsfolk hating her, believing it reenforces her sense of not belonging in the crushing confines of social mediocrity and the drudgery of being trapped as a bored, irresponsible housewife. She’s even nasty and racist toward the hired help, an Indian woman who cooks and cleans, as well as Moose and his daughter Carol (Ruth Roman), who unexpectedly arrives for a visit. Rosa is so conceited, mean-spirited, dismissive, rude, greedy, and demanding that it’s a wonder why anyone – Lewis in particular – would tolerate her presence (though Latimer’s indulgence is questionable, too, considering her honesty toward his covetable riches). Indeed, servant Jenny (Dona Drake), whose usefulness in laboring around the property is enough to give her sway within the household, frequently snaps back at her boss’ insults.

Though Davis delivers a fine performance, her role is so one-note – a note of moral bankruptcy – that it’s difficult to follow her for too long without losing interest. She’s utterly devoid of love, compassion, decency, and friendships (she can’t even fool her romantic targets into remaining under her flimsy spell). It’s a trying design for the star of any picture. Essentially, this setup prompts viewers to eagerly await deserved comeuppance; at some point, she’ll inevitably receive a cold dose of reality. Yet with such an uncompromising, repellent introduction, it becomes a titanic mission to sympathize or feel bad for her when that abrasive confrontation arrives. Is she altogether irredeemable? “You finally have the guts to hate me!”

The story eventually grows more complicated (perhaps in the same vein as other examinations of permanently damaged souls (or dangerous women of the non-femme-fatale kind), like in “Leave Her to Heaven” and “Born to Kill” [and “Sunset Boulevard” after]), but Rosa’s arc doesn’t change much; just when it seems as if her attitude has slightly shifted, it’s quickly revealed to be steadfast in its ruthlessness. Even framing the film with a court case provides negligible titillation, since motives are so transparent and unwavering. The end may be fitting, but it’s neither unexpected nor emotionally satisfying. “I’m not playing God, exactly. But I’m on his side.”

– Mike Massie