Any film that has an extended spot in John Waters’ repertoire of references is bound to be something special, especially if one has a penchant for high camp. My first encounter with The Bad Seed was through the famous, oft-quoted line of “give me those shoes”, as delivered by the sinister but hilariously deranged Rhoda Penmark, played to absolute perfection by Patty McCormack, in Mervyn LeRoy’s iconic adaptation of the stage play by Maxwell Anderson (who had originally adapted the novel of the same name) – and over the years, smaller references and allusions have found their way into the cultural consciousness, leading to the ill-fated reimagining of this story made for television. The original film itself is something to behold – a daring and provocative psychological thriller that possesses the admirable quality of being a camp masterpiece without ever trying to achieve this (which was one of the more notable flaws that came about as a result of the popularity that this sub-genre enjoyed for many decades), and instead built itself on the individual merits that allow it to stand on its own as one of the more deceptively charming thrillers of its time. There is something so enthralling about this film, a quality that persuades us from ever looking away, even when what we’re seeing is terrifying and disconcerting beyond any comprehension. Deftly combining genres that would not normally be considered successful when placed across from each other, but work when thrown together in such a devil-may-care fashion, and told with a precision that many would not anticipate from something in a genre normally not known for a high level of intelligence, The Bad Seed is an iconic film with a lot of merits, even if it may take a while for them to all appear.

The influence of The Bad Seed on the genre may not be well-documented outright, but we can see elements of this film in many subsequent works – the off-kilter humour, the refusal to reveal all of its allegiances from the outset, and just a sincere disregard for logic that would be considered a weakness in any other genre – and more anything else, LeRoy’s adaptation of the stage play is just thoroughly entertaining, a wonderfully strange but fascinating story of a warped mother-daughter relationship, and the extent to which a real-life tragedy can be repurposed as a life-changing event, even for those only marginally associated with it. There are many themes woven into the fabric of this film – beyond the familial dynamic that dominates and becomes incredibly prominent, there are several other concepts that help form this story, such as the relationship between a couple in a marriage that may not be happy, but is still lacking in passion, and how this growing tragedy is only serving to pull them apart even further. Suicide, mental health and adoption are all additional ideas that underpin this film and give it the nuance it needed to be oddly ahead of its time, and refreshing enough to warrant its status as a notable classic, even from the modern perspective, when these kinds of subversive thrillers are far too common to be surprising to anyone who has seen a sample of them. Something keeps drawing us into this film and convincing us that this is worth our time – and by the end, when we have been put through the emotional wringer for long enough to stagger away, we realize how wonderfully manipulative a film like this can be, granted it can hold our attention for long enough.

When we look at this era in psychological thrillers and horror, we tend to see two patterns emerging – the first was the “biddy horror”, where the villains of the stories were older women who used their supposed maternal warmth to take advantage of those around them, normally with gruesome results. The other was the kind of film that The Bad Seed defines, the child-focused thriller, where the naivety and sweetness of the younger generation is manipulated and formed into a terrifying image of the loss of innocence. There is something so compelling about plucking archetypal characters, whether it’s the endearing maternal figure or the charming, innocent child, and repurposing them as villains, and it’s not difficult to understand why these sub-genres was so popular, and have held onto that cultural cache after all these years. We tend to be allured by the prospect of seeing themes we recognize repurposed through the lens of inciting fear. Most of us would look at Rhoda, a precocious and intelligent young girl, as the embodiment of innocence and childish joy – so to have her turned into one of cinema’s most terrifying villains, and someone whose destruction we are actively hoping for, is an impressive coup d’etat on popular values. It’s enough to strip these idealized, Rockwell-esque images of the ideal family of all its idyllic merits, and force us to realize that even the image of perfection can be warped by social factors. Perhaps it’s giving too much credit to The Bad Seed, which is really nothing more than a vaguely perverse psychological thriller about a murderous child, but there is a quality so wonderfully unhinged about this film, we can’t help but be slightly traumatized by how it handles the subject matter, taking us on an unsettling journey into the broken realities of a supposedly ideal family.

Like many similarly themed films, The Bad Seed hinges on the performances, and it certainly has some unforgettable portrayals in both the leading roles and the peripheral cast. Patty McCormack, as mentioned above, is suitably iconic as the deranged Rhoda, using her innocent youthfulness to great effect in forming this unforgettable villain. Despite her young age, McCormack was able to truly capture every aspect of the character (undoubtedly a result of her having originated the role on stage), and delivers every unforgettable line with a delicious sense of sinister enthusiasm that is made even more terrifying by the extent to which she feels committed to the part. However, as memorable as McCormack may be, her demented performance is complemented by the more grounded Nancy Kelly, who plays her mother, who begins to fall apart when she realizes her beloved daughter is quite possibly a sociopathic murderer, and she watches in horror as her fears come to fruition with each new interaction with her child. Kelly and McCormack have impeccable chemistry, and help convince us of the relationship that exists between these characters, which only increases the poignancy of this film, which would’ve faltered had it not been for their spirited performances. Eileen Heckart is a scene-stealer as the mother who loses her son and finds solace in alcohol – and while she isn’t particularly necessary to the narrative in the same way as some of the other characters (being shoehorned into a few scenes), she’s the perfect embodiment of trauma, showing the impact a loss can have on someone, leading them to succumb to self-destruction. The cast of this film is absolutely impeccable, and deserves every bit of acclaim, since they carry the story and make it believable, which is especially important for a work with as many regular narrative implausibilities as this film.

As a defining work of the psychological thriller genre, The Bad Seed truly does live up to its status as an unimpeachable classic, which is made even more captivating by the fact that it isn’t afraid to address its flaws, since they are essentially what gives the film its subversive edge, and allows it to be effectively rough around the edges, rather than a polished but banal attempt at terrifying the audience. It is slightly overlong (at 130 minutes, several scenes could’ve easily been trimmed or elided entirely), and there are some moments that ring slightly disingenuous, but they’re few and far between, and are contrasted with the more meaningful moments that help give the film its unique style and tone. LeRoy was a journeyman director who worked in many genres, and while this may be far from his defining work (in comparison to some of his more prominent films, The Bad Seed is somewhat of a downgrade), but he does bring with him a solid set of directorial skills that help give the film an unexpected depth. There are numerous instances where this story could’ve been derailed, since it is one built on nothing but forthright madness – but he controls the narrative and makes sure everything is, at the very least, solidly formed and interesting, rather than absurd for the sake of it. It helps shepherd the film towards being somewhat coherent in its message, rather than just an unnecessarily convoluted story about a sociopathic child. Far more than just the camp classic it has been perceived as in recent years, but a solid and entertaining thriller, The Bad Seed is well worth the time of anyone who has a penchant for the darker side of life, and the more persuasive deceptive charms that come with such stories.