It’s 1968. You’re sitting in a dark theater, and you’re about to see something that technically shouldn’t exist under the current moral code of Hollywood. The screen flickers to life, and suddenly, the cozy, tea-sipping world of British soap operas is ripped apart by a gin-soaked, cigar-chomping woman who is losing her mind and her career at the same time. The Killing of Sister George movie didn’t just push the envelope. It shredded it.
Robert Aldrich, the guy who gave us What Ever Happened to Baby Jane?, took a stage play and turned it into a cinematic hand grenade. People were furious. Critics were baffled. And the X rating? Well, that was basically a scarlet letter that ensured the film would be talked about for decades, even if it was for all the "wrong" reasons.
Honestly, if you watch it today, it still feels raw. It’s uncomfortable. It’s long—maybe too long—but it captures a specific kind of desperation that most modern films are too scared to touch.
The Brutal Reality Behind the Soap Opera
At its heart, the movie is about June Buckridge, played with terrifying intensity by Beryl Reid. By day, she’s "Sister George," a beloved, hymn-singing district nurse on a popular BBC radio series called Applehurst. By night, she’s a bully, an alcoholic, and a dominant partner in a dysfunctional lesbian relationship with the childlike "Childie" (Susannah York).
The irony is thick.
The public loves the character, but the BBC wants the real woman gone. They decide to kill off Sister George to boost ratings and "clean up" the show's image. This isn't just a career setback for June; it’s a total erasure of her identity. When she’s not Sister George, who is she? Just a middle-aged woman in a society that has no place for her.
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The film is famous (or infamous) for that notorious scene between Susannah York and Coral Browne. You know the one. It’s the reason the film got an X rating in the United States. While Aldrich was accused of being exploitative—and honestly, he probably was—the scene served a narrative purpose. It showed the cold, calculating takeover of June’s life by the "respectable" face of the BBC, Mercy Croft.
Why the X Rating Changed Everything
The late 60s were a weird time for movies. The Hays Code was dead, and the MPAA rating system was the new kid on the block. The Killing of Sister George movie was one of the first major releases to get slapped with an X.
That rating was a death sentence for most films.
It meant no big-budget advertising in mainstream newspapers. It meant many theaters simply refused to screen it. But Aldrich, being the rebel he was, leaned into it. He even bought his own theater in Hollywood just so he could show his movies without interference. That’s the kind of spite that fuels great art.
The controversy overshadowed the performances, which is a shame. Beryl Reid is incredible. She’s vulgar. She’s heartbreaking. She’s a monster you can’t help but pity. She had played the role on stage, and she knew June’s every twitch and growl. When she lets out that final "moo" at the end of the film—a sound of pure, animalistic grief—it sticks with you.
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Not Just a "Lesbian Movie"
It’s easy to pigeonhole this as a "lesbian movie," but that’s reductive. Sure, it was a landmark for representation, even if that representation was deeply flawed and arguably stereotypical for the time. But the film is actually a scathing critique of the media and the way institutions chew up and spit out human beings.
Think about the BBC in this film. They aren't just employers. They are gods. They decide when George lives, when she dies, and how she should behave in public.
- The studio is cold and sterile.
- The executives are polite but ruthless.
- The "death" of the character is handled with the same emotional weight as an accounting error.
It’s a movie about power. Who has it, who loses it, and the ugly things people do to keep a tiny scrap of it. June bullies Childie because the world bullies June. It’s a cycle of abuse that feels painfully real, even when the dialogue gets a bit theatrical.
The Legacy of the "Moo"
There’s a lot of debate about whether the film is homophobic. Some modern viewers see it as a relic of a time when queer characters were always portrayed as miserable, predatory, or doomed. And yeah, there’s some truth to that. But you also have to look at what else was out there in 1968. Almost nothing.
The film offered a glimpse into a subculture—the Gateways Club in London was a real lesbian club, and Aldrich used real members as extras. That was revolutionary. It wasn't a "shining light" of positivity, but it was real. It showed a world that existed in the shadows, brought into the harsh light of a Technicolor camera.
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The ending is one of the bleakest in cinema. No redemption. No happy ending. Just a woman standing in a ruined studio, making the only sound she has left. It’s a protest against the sanitized version of life that television tries to sell us.
How to Revisit this Classic
If you're going to watch the killing of sister george movie for the first time, don't expect a fast-paced thriller. It’s a character study that takes its time. It’s claustrophobic. Most of it happens in June’s cramped, dark apartment, which feels like a cage.
Pay attention to the color palette. The contrast between the bright, fake world of the BBC and the dingy, cluttered reality of June's home tells you everything you need to know about her mental state.
Also, watch for Coral Browne. Her performance as Mercy Croft is a masterclass in "passive-aggressive villainy." She doesn't need to yell; she just smiles and destroys lives. It’s chilling.
Actionable Insights for Film Buffs
If you're diving into the history of this film, here’s how to get the most out of the experience:
- Watch the 1968 Original First: Don't start with clips or summaries. The pacing is part of the point. You need to feel the slow-motion train wreck of June's life.
- Research the Gateways Club: Knowing that the club scenes were filmed in a legendary real-world location adds a layer of authenticity that many movies from that era lacked.
- *Compare it to What Ever Happened to Baby Jane?:* You’ll see Aldrich's fingerprints everywhere—the obsession with aging stars, the psychological warfare, and the grotesque beauty of a breakdown.
- Look for the Uncut Version: Depending on where you live, some TV edits might still trim the controversial scenes. To understand the X-rating controversy, you need to see what actually caused the stir.
The film remains a jarring piece of cinema history. It’s not "comfortable" viewing, and it’s not meant to be. It’s a loud, drunken, heartbreaking scream of a movie that refuses to go quietly into the night.