EDITOR’S NOTE: The Woman Who Wouldn’t Die was on the CBS Late Movie on March 12 and June 16, 1975.
Killing your spouse is a plot as old as plots themselves and an astonishingly foolish choice in real life. But whether it’s for cash, misplaced rage or sheer stupidity, characters on screen keep right on trying. While it’s a subgenre that could easily feel stale, when a movie leans into the wicked fun of watching an evil cad squirm, it’s hard to look away.
Enter Gordon Hessler’s 1965 British thriller The Woman Who Wouldn’t Die (released in the UK under the much punchier title Catacombs). Marking Hessler’s feature directorial debut after cutting his teeth on The Alfred Hitchcock Hour, this brisk 86-minute chiller is an entertaining slice of old-school escapist hokum. He’d go on to make The Oblong Box, Scream and Scream Again, Pray for Death, and oh yeah, Kiss Meets the Phantom of the Park.
The setup is classic noir-infused domestic treachery. Gary Merrill stars as Raymond Garth, a vapid, predatory American playboy married to Ellen (Georgina Cookson). Ellen is a wealthy, formidable businesswoman who inherited a milling fortune and runs it with an iron fist, constantly reminding Raymond that he’s essentially around just to look good. Into this toxic household steps Alice Taylor (Jane Merrow), Raymond’s niece by marriage. Fresh back from art school in Paris, Alice catches Ray’s wandering eye, sparking a full-blown infatuation.
With neither Raymond nor Alice able to fund their luxurious desires without Ellen’s bank account, they need her out of the way. Enter Richard Corbett (Neil McCallum), Ellen’s right-hand man who is equally tired of living in her shadow. Together, Raymond and Richard cook up a scheme: murder Ellen right before a planned trip to Italy, substitute an actress to fake her departure and collect the money.
Of course, Ellen isn’t an idiot. She catches Ray and Alice in the act, sends Alice packing and forces Raymond to fall in line, pushing him over the edge as he murders her and buries the body in a potting shed. From there, the paranoia sets in. Alice inherits half the estate, Ray gets the cottage (provided he actually lives there), and both soon find themselves haunted by footfalls, cane taps and the terrifying suspicion that Ellen might still be breathing.
Sure, as Joe Bob says, we’ve seen it all before. But we haven’t seen it with Georgina Cookson’s talents. She plays Ellen with a striking, eerie presence that makes her a formidable force even after death. While the era’s audience might have viewed her character as pushy or out of line, modern eyes see her as a remarkably sympathetic figure battling fragile male egos. Meanwhile, Merrill plays the amoral Ray with slimy perfection, perfectly capturing the creepiness of an aging man pursuing a younger girl.
Hessler’s direction shows early flashes of the stylish flair he would be remembered for, keeping the camera in motion with clever glides and sudden zooms. Backed by a sharp, knowing screenplay by legendary writer Daniel Manwaring (Out of the Past, Invasion of the Body Snatchers), the film relies heavily on atmospheric sound design and suspense rather than cheap jump scares.
