Beryl Reid kills it as a sadistic lesbian in '60s London

Robert Aldrich’s 1968 film, The Killing of Sister George, was based on a 1964 stage play of the same name, by Frank Marcus. That was a black comedy, but the movie was sold much more a as a “shocking drama” – 'melodrama' would be more accurate – with a far greater explicitness about the lesbian relationships that are a central feature than the original.

As a result, it struggled to get past the censors on both sides of the Atlantic, while some reviews were deeply critical, with at least one accusing Aldrich of ‘coarsening’ a subtle play.

It’s become more critically appreciated as time has passed – and it seems a fair bet that that’s largely a consequence of considerably greater acceptance of lesbianism within our society, but in 1968 – only a year after decriminalisation of homosexuality in the UK (lesbianism had never been illegal) – the very blunt portrayal of a toxic lesbian relationship must have had a lot more power to shock that it does today.

Middle-aged actor June Buckridge plays ‘Sister George’, a lovable district nurse in a fictional, long-running BBC television soap opera, Applehurst. Off screen, she’s the opposite of her much-loved character – gobby and coars; a cigar-smoking heavy drinker; masculine in appearance and with a decidedly sadistic side to her.

We see that particularly in her relationship with her younger live-in lover, Alice. But if tensions in their relationship already exist, June’s problems are exacerbated by her fears that her character is going to be killed off – worries that are not helped by her own behaviour, including toward TV producer Mrs Croft, as she spirals out of control.

It’s a fascinating watch for all sorts of reasons. Joseph F Biroc’s cinemaphotography is very stagey in places, but at others, it’s quite exhilarating. The opening title shots, as June walks home along a series of streets, are really impressive.

There’s an interesting costume contrast here that illustrates the – apparent – power dynamics between June and Alice: the former in a heavy, brown tweed suit standing over the latter in pink baby doll pyjamas. It would be more than a bit of a cliché now, but was probably quite powerful at the time, as would have been the couple's appearance at a lesbian party in male drag.

But the film really relies on the three central performances. Coral Browne is in steely form as the apparently conventional Mrs Croft, while Susannah York as Alice is both believably childlike and vulnerable, but convincingly hard-nosed when required.

Having created the role on stage – and won a Tony when the play transferred to Broadway – Beryl Reid was no shoe-in for the screen version, with Bette Davis and Angela Lansbury both being offered it. I love both of them, but thank goodness Reid got it. It’s a barnstormer of a performance, not least in the convincing way she portrays not only June, but in the contrasting Sister George.

You can see why Aldrich wanted Davis, having worked with her on his 1962 camp classic, Whatever Happened to Baby Jane? – and this film has a sense of the same macabre camp – but casting Reid was absolutely the right decision.

Well worth seeking it out if you haven’t seen it – and not least in LGBT+ History Month.