“The aim of the book is not to insult or degrade,” writes Caroline Young in the introduction to Crazy Old Ladies: The Story Of Hag Horror, explaining her “provocative” title. “Above all it’s a celebration.” You may be wondering what defines a film as ‘hag horror’, but you’re likely already familiar with this niche of frightful filmmaking: hags can be bitchy bosses, controlling wives or wronged mothers driven into rages, but they can also be much more sinister and supernatural – witches, crones and wise women. 

The most famous example is Whatever Happened To Baby Jane?, which played on the real-life feud between Golden Age stars Bette Davis and Joan Crawford. Its unexpected success (older women aren’t box office draws, according to Hollywood’s anti-ageing, patriarchal rulebook) spawned a slew of what came to be known as hag horror titles in the 60s and 70s. However, I was intrigued by Young’s point – the inspiration for this book – that these archetypes have made a comeback recently: in horror films like Ma and the latest Halloween trilogy, Golden Age biopics like Judy and action thrillers like Terminator: Dark Fate.

Though not the first author to write about the subject, Young’s affection for it shines through from the start, recounting Crawford’s grace and humour even while promoting the critically-panned hag horrors bankrolling her twilight career years. These sensational films played on the shock value of seeing actresses of yesteryear letting loose post-Hays Code, intended to lure audiences away from the new distraction of television. To add insult to injury, these were largely aimed at women, who have always made up over half of cinemagoers.

An interesting tension arises as Young traces the subgenre’s development. Is there empowerment in the likes of Jamie Lee Curtis, a shotgun-wielding blockbuster lead aged 63, or are we falling back into the trap of limiting the roles older actresses can play, thus warning younger women of their fate if they don’t do what society expects? The problem, of course, is not that these women keep accepting the work, as they’re entitled to, but that Hollywood reflects real-life anxieties about them; that once women pass their ‘prime’, their bodies and life experiences (tragic spinsters, failed mothers, traumatised victims) make them things to fear.

Nowadays, despite some throwbacks, there is a greater plurality in roles for women over 40 both in front of behind the camera, which Young acknowledges optimistically towards the end, but it’s a shame that the likes of Davis and Crawford didn’t live to see it. For feminist pop culture historians, fans of this era in cinema or what have become quotable camp classics such as Mommie Dearest (“No wire hangers!”), Crazy Old Ladies is an easy-to-read, fascinating account of an overlooked trope.