Bette Davis was basically a force of nature by 1965. She wasn’t looking for "pretty" roles anymore. She wanted grit. She wanted to be scary. When you look back at The Nanny movie Bette Davis starred in, you aren't just seeing a thriller; you're seeing a masterclass in psychological manipulation that feels uncomfortably modern even now. It’s dark.
Most people think of What Ever Happened to Baby Jane? when they think of Davis's late-career horror era. That’s a mistake. While Baby Jane is loud and grotesque, The Nanny is quiet. It’s clinical. Produced by Hammer Film Productions—the same studio that gave us Christopher Lee’s Dracula—this film traded out the vampires for something way more unsettling: a middle-aged woman in a crisp uniform who might actually be a cold-blooded killer.
It hits different. Honestly, the tension doesn't come from jump scares. It comes from the fact that nobody believes the kid.
The Setup: Gaslighting Before We Had a Word For It
The plot is deceptively simple. Joey Fane, played by a remarkably talented William Dix, returns home from a school for disturbed children. He was sent there after the drowning of his little sister, Susy. The catch? Joey swears he didn't do it. He insists that "Nanny" did.
Davis plays Nanny with this eerie, blank devotion. She’s the backbone of the household. She takes care of the fragile, grieving mother, Virginia, and handles the cold, detached father, Bill. Everyone trusts her. She’s the help. She’s invisible and essential all at once.
When Joey returns, he refuses to eat anything Nanny cooks. He sleeps with the door locked. He’s terrified. To the adults, he just looks like a troubled, malicious boy trying to blame a saintly woman for his own crimes. This is where the movie gets under your skin. We've all been in situations where the truth is staring everyone in the face, but the social hierarchy prevents anyone from seeing it. In 1965, a "nanny" was a pillar of the British upper-middle-class home. You didn't question the help, especially when they were as dedicated as Bette Davis’s character.
The script, written by Jimmy Sangster based on the novel by Merriam Modell, plays with perspective beautifully. For the first half of the film, you actually wonder if Joey is just a little sociopath. He’s rude. He’s manipulative. He’s mean to his mother. But as the layers peel back, you realize his behavior is a survival mechanism. He isn't "bad"—he’s a witness who was silenced.
Why Bette Davis Chose The Nanny
By the mid-60s, Davis was leaning hard into what critics unkindly dubbed "Hagsploitation." But she was smarter than the critics. She knew that older women in cinema were usually relegated to grandmothers or aunts who baked cookies. She wanted to subvert that.
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In The Nanny movie Bette Davis stripped away the heavy "Baby Jane" makeup. She wore a simple, severe uniform. She used her eyes—those legendary, massive eyes—to convey a terrifying lack of empathy. It wasn't about being a monster; it was about being a void.
She reportedly got along well with the director, Seth Holt, though she was known for being "exacting" on set. That’s a polite way of saying she ran the show. But her professionalism served the movie. There is a specific scene where she’s bathing a child, and the way she holds the sponge... it’s just slightly too firm. It’s those tiny, domestic details that turn a standard thriller into a psychological nightmare.
The Hammer Horror Connection
Hammer Films was known for "Technicolor Gothics." They liked blood. They liked bright reds and dramatic shadows. The Nanny was a departure. Filmed in stark black and white, it feels more like a noir or a documentary than a monster movie.
This was a deliberate choice.
Director Seth Holt was a master of editing. He knew that the absence of color would make the house feel more claustrophobic. The Fane household is full of Victorian clutter, heavy drapes, and narrow hallways. It feels like a tomb. By stripping away the Hammer "glamour," the film forces you to focus on the performances.
It’s worth noting that the film was a massive hit in the UK but had a more slow-burn success in the US. American audiences weren't quite sure what to make of a "domestic" Bette Davis who didn't scream or wear face paint. They eventually caught on, though. The movie grossed well over its modest budget, proving that Davis was still a box office draw, even without the camp factor.
The Tragic Reality of the Ending
Without spoiling the specific beats for those who haven't seen it (though you really should), the climax of the film involves a confrontation that reveals the true nature of "Nanny’s" devotion. It’s not about love. It’s about control.
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There is a flashback sequence—one of the few in the film—that explains how the daughter died. It is one of the most heartbreaking and chilling sequences in 60s cinema. It wasn't a "slasher" moment. It was a moment of profound, accidental negligence followed by a calculated cover-up.
That’s the horror of The Nanny movie Bette Davis gave us. It’s the horror of what people do when they are "trying to help." Nanny truly believes she is the hero of the story. In her mind, she is the only one keeping the family together. That kind of delusion is way scarier than a guy in a mask.
Critical Reception and Legacy
Critics at the time were surprisingly kind. The New York Times praised Davis for her "quietly sinister" performance. They noted that she didn't need to chew the scenery to be effective.
Looking back, the film serves as a bridge between the classic Hollywood thrillers of the 40s and the "slasher" boom of the 70s. It deals with:
- Childhood trauma
- Mental illness stigmas
- The fragility of the nuclear family
- Class dynamics in British households
It’s also a reminder of how good child actors used to be. William Dix holds his own against Bette Davis. That’s no small feat. Most adult actors were terrified of her. Dix plays Joey with a weary, adult-like cynicism that makes his fear feel palpable. You genuinely want to reach through the screen and get him out of that house.
Technical Brilliance in a Low-Budget Frame
The cinematography by Tony Imi deserves a shout-out. There are shots where Davis is reflected in mirrors or framed by doorway shadows that make her look ten feet tall. The lighting is low-key, emphasizing the bags under the eyes and the lines on the faces. It’s honest. It’s ugly in the best way possible.
The score by Richard Rodney Bennett is sparse. He doesn't tell you when to be scared. He lets the silence do the work. When the music does kick in, it’s discordant and jangly—perfectly mimicking the fractured mind of a woman who has lost her grip on reality but kept her grip on her pride.
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Misconceptions About the Film
One big misconception is that this is a "horror" movie in the traditional sense. If you go in expecting The Exorcist, you’ll be disappointed. This is a suspense drama. It’s a "gaslighting" thriller before that was a buzzword.
Another mistake people make is thinking Bette Davis was "washed up" when she made this. Far from it. She was in a period of intense creative reinvention. She was lean, mean, and incredibly focused. She didn't care about looking old on camera; she cared about being effective.
What You Should Do Next
If you haven't seen it, stop reading and find a copy. It’s often available on streaming services like Criterion Channel or for rent on Amazon.
- Watch it as a double feature with What Ever Happened to Baby Jane? to see the incredible range Davis had in her later years. The contrast between the two performances is wild.
- Pay attention to the background. The way Nanny moves through the house—always cleaning, always "fixing"—is the key to her character.
- Look for the 2026 restored editions. Recently, there has been a push to restore Hammer’s "Black and White" library. The high-definition transfers make the shadows even deeper and the performances even sharper.
- Read the original novel by Merriam Modell. It offers more internal monologue for Nanny, which makes her screen counterpart even more fascinating.
This isn't just a "movie with Bette Davis." It’s a look at how society treats the vulnerable—both children and the elderly—and how easily a monster can hide behind a polite "Yes, madam."
The real power of the film lies in its final frames. There is no big explosion. No grand speech. Just a realization. And that realization stays with you long after the credits roll. Bette Davis didn't need a chainsaw or a ghost to scare you. She just needed a cup of tea and a look of absolute, unwavering "kindness."
Go watch it. Now. You won't look at "the help" the same way again. It's a masterclass in tension that proves you don't need a huge budget to create an enduring nightmare. Just a great script, a brave director, and the most formidable actress in Hollywood history.
Start with the 1965 original. Don't bother with later imitations. The atmosphere of that specific era of British filmmaking is impossible to replicate. It’s cold, it’s damp, and it’s absolutely terrifying.