THE WHISPERERS: Blu-ray (Lopert Pictures, 1967) Kino Lorber

Bryan Forbes’ The Whisperers (1967) is likely to remain the most starkly disturbing depiction of the elderly and indigent ever to reach the screen. Separating the movie’s merits from its extraordinary and creditable performance by Dame Edith Evans as the inconspicuous drudge, Mrs. Margaret Ross, the screenplay, co-authored by Robert Nicolson and Forbes delves into an ominous, unorthodox and thoroughly uncomfortable existence of this lonely old woman who, suffering from the onslaught of early dementia, a cruel ex-husband, and, wayward middle-age loser of a son, using his mother’s squalid digs to conceal loot from a robbery, is rife to being taken advantage of – and left for dead - by the filthy middle-class harridan, Mrs. Noonan (Avis Bunnage). The Whisperers derives its title from the voices Mrs. Ross continues to hear emanating from her flat.  The pipes, ceiling, windows, etc. – all seem to be ‘whispering’ something inaudible to her. Evans, age 76 (but looking at least 20 year her senior), and, in her final movie, resists the urge to transform this ill-fated and sad-eyed hoarder into just another dotty relic – the sort we are used to seeing elderly players reenact; clumsily, to remain out of step with the world at large. And while Mrs. Ross clearly has one foot stretched into this fantasy landscape of her own design, the other is firmly planted on earth all too real and easily to swallow her whole, should she endeavor to make even a solitary misstep beyond her front door.

Gerry Turpin’s cinematography captures the uncompromising bleakness of living in this dirty squalor; Ross, by no means, extraordinary, but rather, one of the vast forgotten, cast aside in these un-glamorous post-war years. Forbes really takes his time to establish this devastating existence. Nearly 20 minutes into the picture, and we have little more to go on than Ross’ daily slog, imploring the kindly Mr. Conrad (Gerald Sim) for enough National Assistance to pay for a new pair of shoes, or attending the local charity soup kitchen, doling out its religious fervor in tandem with a hot meal, but little in the way of genuine compassion. The first real contact Margaret engages in is with an upstairs neighbor (Nanette Newman) who cruelly tells her to mind her own business. Isolated, weary and very much prone to exaggeration, self-doubt and a resourcefulness that precludes her complete mental disintegration, Margaret is next confronted by her ridiculously poor excuse for a son, Charlie (Ronald Fraser). Having made off with a king’s ransom in a robbery, Charlie elects to take his ill-gotten gains and stuff them in the back closet of his mother’s spare room – a repository for aged newspapers, piled floor to ceiling everywhere.

Alas, after Charlie confidently departs, believing his dotty old mum will never discover his secret hiding place, Margaret unearths the plain paper package in her closet. Misguidedly, she perceives this to be a windfall from her husband’s estate and, claiming the money for herself, suffers her first real folly as a woman of means by informing Mr. Conrad that his services will no longer be required. Alas, their conversation is overheard by Mrs. Noonan who, having confirmed the old woman’s purse to be brimming in fresh English pounds, whisks Margaret away by bus – first, to a local pub, where she quietly plies her with polite conversation and strong drink; then, bringing her back to the modest home she shares with her wayward husband (Michael Robbins) and two unfeeling teenage children, Jimmie (Kaplan Kay) and Mavis (Penny Spencer). After his wife has tricked Margaret into consuming yet another drink heavily laced with a sleeping powder, Mr. Noonan elects to rob her blind and, with Jimmie’s assist, to ditch Margaret in an abandoned corner near her flat, otherwise unconscious and unguarded from the elements. Discovered early the next morning by the girl upstairs and her black boyfriend, Margaret is taken to hospital where, so we discover, she has contracted pneumonia.  

Properly cared for by a small army of psychologists, doctors, nurses and caregivers, Margaret begins the slow ascent back to the life she once knew. Believing Margaret would be better served, reunited with her husband, whom she has not seen in years, Mr. Conrad arranges for Archie Ross (Eric Portman) – also hard on his luck – to return to his wife as her primary caregiver. Mr. Conrad promises Archie a stipend of government assistance to ease the old codger into accepting these terms. And although Archie is not eager to oblige, he does show a modicum of compassion for Margaret, and, for the time being, moves back home to be with her. However, before long Archie resorts to old habits; staying out late, gambling away his income, turning down jobs that might afford him a livelihood, and staying out all night, procuring the services of a young prostitute to satisfy his more primal urges. In short order, Archie becomes embroiled in a crime as a chauffeur to Mr. Fish (Max Bacon) and then, Andy (Robert Russell) – a pair of small-time gangsters, up to no good. During one of his routine drives to an out of the way location for a money drop off, Archie witnesses Andy being roughed up by the competition. Without a moment to spare, Archie takes the gambling money for himself, leaving Andy to his attackers, while escaping into the night. As he is likely never to return home, Margaret resorts back to her former life, hearing voices coming from her walls and addressing these invisible visitors in a familiar way.  

The Whisperers is a grisly subdued affair, so unflinching in its depiction of the elderly as disposable members in a modern society, left to their own accord to decay and die – friendless, miserable and isolated – that by the time the picture reaches its penultimate moment of realization (nothing will ever change for Margaret Ross) the hopelessness is so all pervading that it swamps what entertainment value the picture might have had upon repeat viewing. Having seen it once, I can honestly say The Whisperers left me with such a dreadful sense of quiet desperation, I sincerely hope never to revisit it again. Dame Edith Evans’ performance is supremely heartrending, in that she downplays virtually any and all moments that might have allowed for more grand-standing, instead, exploring every last moment with an unrelenting and terminally bleak acquiescence. I can well understand why, although Oscar-nominated, she lost the coveted Best Actress statuette to Kate Hepburn’s more indomitable can-do aged pixie in Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner. Evans portrait of an elderly woman in steep decline flies in the face of Hepburn’s inbred obstinance as the defiant champion of what established womanhood, affluently tricked out, might evolve into in her emeritus years. In the movies in general – and ones made in Hollywood in particular – fantasy trumps reality every time. Evans forgotten frump, resigned to her physical limitations and slowly surrendering her mental acuity to a waning grasp on reality, cuts too close to home for far too many, I suspect. Although nobly outlined and subtly nuanced – Evans’ Margaret depicts a painful reality, unappreciated by those seeking escapism from their entertainments. Even today, Evans’ droopy-eyed glimmer of resignation makes one wish for a more perfect outcome to life in general, and most certainly, Margaret Ross’ life, in particular. As this is not forthcoming, we are left with…what? Evans, marginally distraught, but even more distressed gargoyle, not much to care what comes next as she settles into the sand trap of old habits, exaggerated by her withering grasp on reality.  How profoundly wretched and very – very – disconcerting!

The Whisperers arrives on Blu-ray via Kino Lorber, in a 2K master that is problematic, if a vast improvement over the old careworn DVD from MGM/Fox. Originally produced independently by Lopert Pictures, The Whisperers’ 1.66:1 framed B&W image continues to suffer from lower than anticipated contrast levels. Alright, cinematographer, Gerry Turpin is not going for the high key-lit treatment here, but a pseudo-reality that, more often than not, succeeds in suggesting a reality so unrepentant, grim and without a future, the visual claustrophobia generated by its scant production design is enough to make us want to break open a window after our viewing to let in a little fresh air. Even so, contrast is anemic. There are no distinct whites, but tonalities of a muddy, dull gray. Conversely, blacks veer into the darker register of the same homogenized gray palette without ever registering ‘as’ black. Worse, the image is frequently thick, with film grain appearing slightly digitized and, with intermittent bouts of edge enhancement to boot. Clarity is vastly improved. Especially in close-ups, we get a lot of fine detail revealed. But establishing shorts continue to appear soft and/or slightly out of focus.

The 1.0 mono is unremarkable, as is the newly minted audio commentary by Kat Ellinger. Honestly, can Kino just find someone who is prepared to provide audio commentaries that are more well-rounded, provide better information on cast and crew, and, on the making of the movie itself. I have listened to too many Ellinger commentaries where she seems to be reading factoid info directly off an IMDB listing, or simply forgoes all sense of research to veer off into hyperbole of her own. This one’s a snore. Bottom line: The Whisperers is a paralyzing analysis of the cruelty life inflicts on those unable to care for themselves. But Forbes has forgotten a fundamental of the picture-making biz; that to make a movie about the inelegant demise of the elderly is one thing; to face it as a sobering truth, worthy of repeat investment by the audience, quite another. Forbes has, instead, created a template of life as it likely is, and disturbingly continues to alienate the rest of us from those who desperately hope such a tragedy will not befall them. For those who remember the movie – fondly – this Blu-ray will suffice, even it is far from perfect. Judge and buy accordingly.

FILM RATING (out of 5 – 5 being the best)

3

VIDEO/AUDIO

3.5

EXTRAS

1