The power of money and how it is exercised has been much in the news recently. It's not a new concern, however. Seldom has this issue in all its complexities been more brilliantly articulated than by Swiss dramatist Frederich Durrenmatt (1921-90) in his 1956 German language play The Visit of the Old Lady, which Maurice Valency adapted for the 1958 Broadway production retitled The Visit, starring the legendary acting team of Alfred Lunt and Lynne Fontanne (The Lunts.) It was their final stage appearance. In 1964, a much-altered but still powerful film version was released. It's available in DVD.
The town of Gullen, in an unnamed, presumably Eastern European country, is desperately poor. Once thriving, it now has no industry. Most people scrape to get by. But hope for betterment unexpectedly presents itself. Native daughter Karla Zachanassian (Ingrid Bergman), who left as a teenager, is coming for a visit. She is now fabulously wealthy. The mayor and the town council are confident that "little Karla" will help her hometown regain its prosperity. The bureaucrats enlist assistance from Karla's former boyfriend, Serge Miller (Anthony Quinn). He married Mathilda (Valentina Cortese), whose father owned the local general store. They have a son. The city fathers prudently suggest that Mathilda remain in the background during Karla's visit.
The populace is surprised when the express train unexpectedly stops at Gullen, rather than roll through it. Someone has pulled the emergency brake. Suddenly, a stunningly beautiful and sumptuously dressed Karla steps off the train. She soothes the conductor's anxieties about the train being late by giving him a handsome sum. She smiles at the town's leaders and at the school band that welcomes her "home." The dreary town looks the same to her.
Karla is happy to see Serge. They reminisce pleasantly. He recalls the nickname he gave her, and she beams when he uses it again. So little seems to have changed, except they are both older and she is worldly.
She is ready to help Gullen's citizens become prosperous – indeed, wealthy – if they meet her conditions. She wants Serge tried, convicted, and executed for having abandoned her when she was pregnant with his child. He forced her to flee Gullen in disgrace. The bureaucrats are outraged – neither they nor their justice is for sale. Serge is horrified.
Soon, however, gifts start arriving. A new television set for Mathilda. More luxuries and the promise of cash tempt the residents of Gullen. The people begin to see Serge differently. He once was their neighbor, friend, and community leader. Now he is standing between them and previously unimaginable riches. After all, what he did to Karla was dreadful. What kind of a man would treat a woman that way? A mere girl? Perhaps he does deserve to be tried, and if convicted, punished – indeed, executed – for his crime. Even Mathilda is tempted by the better opportunities for her and her son that Karla's promises represent. Besides, Serge probably married her, even though he loved Karla, because her family had some money and status.
Serge's fear increases. He seems to be living in a nightmare. A desperate attempt to escape fails. He is tried and convicted. Will Karla insist that his death sentence be carried out? Would he be better or worse off if she relents?
Bergman is riveting in the first truly unsympathetic role of her extraordinary career. Her charm at the beginning as she seduces the populace and relaxes Serge is beguiling. She segues beautifully into revealing her ruthlessness. Viewers are as shocked as the townspeople. In her climatic scene, she eloquently expresses her contempt for how easily the "good citizens" were bought – she could have offered half what she did and they would have accepted. She's chilling and unforgettable.
Quinn is touching. He is more reserved than usual. He memorably conveys Serge's growing incredulity and terror. Cortese's Mathilda suggests her marriage was not all she hoped it would be, and that she has dreams for herself and their son that only money can make a reality. The rest of the cast, which includes Claude Dauphin as Karla's factotum and Irina Demick as Anya, a hotel maid and the mistress of the police chief, is good. Karla sees herself in Anya. and treats her as kindly as she can treat anyone.
Bernhard Wicki's direction builds the tension and suspense. Ben Barzman adapted Valency's script. Rene Hubert designed Bergman's costumes, which were executed by Nina Ricci and nominated for an Academy Award. With the exception of one bizarre ensemble, they magnificently convey Karla's status and arrogant confidence. The effective score is by Richard Arnel and Hans-Martin Majewski.
The movie opened to derogatory reviews and poor business. Many criticized the adaptation, but today it seems fitting. In an hour and 40 minutes, it hauntingly deals with vengeance, justice, greed, corruption, and the eternally open wounds of brutalized youth. No one is spared.
At one point, a remake was discussed as a vehicle for Elizabeth Taylor, but it was never made. Kandler and Ebb adapted it as a musical, initially starring Angela Lansbury. In 2015, Chita Rivera headlined it on Broadway, but it had a disappointing run. It's not surprising – such a grim view of humanity is unlikely to be popular with today's audiences, who more and more seek escapism when they attend the theatre.