An old spooky mansion, a mystery writer seeking inspiration for her next book, a doctor with a strange obsession with bats, and a serial killer on the loose—what could be more bone-chilling than this? All of these gothic horror literary tropes are present in Crane Wilbur’s 1959 film, The Bat, a film that teeters between cinematic depth and campiness.
Based on a 1908 mystery novel, The Circular Staircase by Mary Roberts Rinehart, and the novel’s subsequent play adaptation also titled The Bat, Wilbur’s film features Agnes Moorehead as Cornelia van Gorder, a mystery writer who is renting The Oaks—the spooky mansion in question. She’s accompanied by assistant Lizzie Allen, who has to take care of everything in the house because the staff has vacated the premises on the account of the serial killer.
Lizzie’s visibly upset by this—the Bat kills only women, and both she and Cornelia have every right to be afraid. Cornelia is more logical and is more inclined to not believe the tales of horror.
The cast of characters as well as the suspicions grows when we’re immediately introduced to Dr. Malcolm Wells (Vincent Price). He’s kind on the surface but this kindness isn’t a reason to believe that he’s a good man. In fact, throughout the film, Wells is the main suspect. After all, why would a physician have such bizarre interest in and love of bats?
There’s enough evidence to conclude that “The Bat” has been somewhere in the mansion and Cornelia enlists the help from the chief of police, Lt. Anderson. Cornelia and Lizzie need protection, especially now that they’ve been joined for dinner by two more women from the town.
The fun and games of the relaxing dinner are cut short by the fact that “The Bat” is on the prowl, and it’d be safer if all the women stayed inside the mansion. They depend on men to help and possibly rescue them from the sharp clutches of the serial killer, who according to all the witnesses so far, is without a face.
Naturally, we suspect Dr. Wells—not only because he’s two-faced and commits a murder at the beginning of the film. Another element is the essence of Vincent Price, which always lends itself to the creepy tales of horror. He starts as morally ambiguous but that quickly turns into pure self-interest.
Agnes Moorehead is an actress of superlative talents, and here she elevates the film from mere campiness to both horror and humor. Her intense presence on screen is undeniable and she’s always maintained control and dignity in her roles, even when the characters she played experienced despair. There’s always a sense that nothing can touch Moorehead, and when she is vulnerable, it’s on her terms.
Do these terms have anything to do with being a woman? The Bat would indicate this. It may have been unintentional, but the film’s humorously and implicitly feminist. Cornelia’s unattached and enjoys a successful career. She doesn’t need a man, and her assistant Lizzie is affectionately attached to her. She even calls her Miss Corny in front of others to which Cornelia says, “When you refer to my books, please don’t call me Miss Corny.”
The men in the film are laughably incompetent, and serve only as a blundering background for the drama that ensues between women themselves as well as the women’s relationship to fear and bats. There are many bats in the film that create the heebie-jeebies, but Dr. Wells assures Cornelia and Lizzie that there’s nothing to worry about. There’s no reason for such fear because not all of them carry rabies.
Cornelia isn’t buying it. She’s far too intelligent and independent to take Dr. Wells’ words as true. Dr. Wells sees all women as “little ladies.” When Cornelia tells him that he can leave the house because she’s “now armed” with a pistol, Dr. Wells says, “Can you shoot one of those things without shutting your eyes?” Cornelia’s amused by his weak protectiveness and condescension. “Oh doctor, there are guns in every book I’ve ever written,” she says. “I don’t write about things I’m unfamiliar with.”
Do men in the film carry symbolic rabies? Are they all bats? Cornelia doesn’t think so. She doesn’t hate men but she has no need for them. She’s not an old spinster but a woman of means and power—something that men in the film can’t match. Cornelia’s in a position of a leader through which she also protects the women around her from the homicidal and incompetent men. She’s also the moral arbiter and judge in the film. She alone decides who’s good and evil, and assures the viewer that no one can ever get away with murder.