The Saul Bass-inspired credits for 1964 psychological thriller Lady in a Cage immediately bring to mind the work of Alfred Hitchcock, as does the film's single location and its high-concept: a rich woman trapped in her lift is tormented by opportunist thieves who ransack her home.
But director Walter Grauman is no Hitchcock.
Grauman lacks the sheer class and style of Hitch, his film being a lurid, trashy little effort boasting a heavy-handed cynical message about how people in Western society have become indifferent to the suffering of their fellow man (or in this case, woman).
Walt's handling of his material is completely devoid of subtlety, and his cast follow suit by gleefully overacting at every available opportunity, with star Olivia De Havilland's hysterical, melodramatic central performance being particularly comical (her rapid descent into despair, her sudden outburst of 'Alouette' and the faces she pulls while writing terrible poetry in her head are all priceless!).
With a dead dog, a wino stabbing, talk of decapitated women, and assorted sadistic brutality courtesy of young thug Randall Simpson O'Connell (James Caan, channelling Marlon Brando), the intention was clearly to shock the audience, but the final product borders on high camp (something that lends the film a certain cult appeal) and frequently proves tedious, all of which prevents it from being the truly disturbing classic it was clearly intended to be.
But director Walter Grauman is no Hitchcock.
Grauman lacks the sheer class and style of Hitch, his film being a lurid, trashy little effort boasting a heavy-handed cynical message about how people in Western society have become indifferent to the suffering of their fellow man (or in this case, woman).
Walt's handling of his material is completely devoid of subtlety, and his cast follow suit by gleefully overacting at every available opportunity, with star Olivia De Havilland's hysterical, melodramatic central performance being particularly comical (her rapid descent into despair, her sudden outburst of 'Alouette' and the faces she pulls while writing terrible poetry in her head are all priceless!).
With a dead dog, a wino stabbing, talk of decapitated women, and assorted sadistic brutality courtesy of young thug Randall Simpson O'Connell (James Caan, channelling Marlon Brando), the intention was clearly to shock the audience, but the final product borders on high camp (something that lends the film a certain cult appeal) and frequently proves tedious, all of which prevents it from being the truly disturbing classic it was clearly intended to be.