“I’m Writing A Letter For Daddy”
If You Know The First Words To The Song.
Then You Already Can See The Google-Eyes Of Bette Davis!
By Benjamin Groff II GroffMedia© | benandsteve.com | ©2026
October 11, 2026
This morning’s coffee comes with an eye-opener. I hadn’t planned to start the day this way, but the idea landed in my lap last week while I was lying around with a broken right ankle and leg. And—poof!—on came a flick I’ve seen so many times I can practically recite the dialogue: What Ever Happened to Baby Jane?
Apparently, a broken leg wasn’t enough to keep me uncomfortable. Bette Davis had to drop by and finish the job. I can tell you I know “What Ever Happened To Baby Jane!”
I have watched What Ever Happened to Baby Jane? so many times that I can almost recite the dialogue along with the actors.
I first discovered it late one night while caring for my ailing mother-in-law. I watched it again when my own mother was in similar circumstances, and recently returned to it while recovering from a broken leg. Somehow, this wonderfully unsettling film keeps finding me when I’m already confined to one spot.
Bette Davis plays Baby Jane to perfection. Her performance gets under my skin every time. Joan Crawford, as her sister Blanche, makes you feel the helplessness of being trapped upstairs and dependent on someone increasingly cruel and unpredictable. From the moment Jane claims Blanche’s bird has escaped through the window, you know something is terribly wrong. Before long, you’re worrying that anyone who gets too close—including the neighbors—might meet the same fate as the housekeeper, Elvira.
Then there is the singing. Davis’s strained, childlike rendition of “I’ve Written a Letter to Daddy” makes my skin crawl, yet I still want to hear it. For me, it has the same unsettling, irresistible quality as the Silver Shamrock jingle in Halloween III: Season of the Witch (which, by the way, is our anniversary song—Steve’s and mine) Once it gets into your head, it settles in and refuses to leave.
Although the story includes murder, its final scene relies on something more haunting than a bloody spectacle. That is part of what keeps bringing me back: the performances, the dread, and the feeling that even familiar scenes can still unsettle me.
But I’m left with one thoroughly impractical question: whatever happened to the Baby Jane doll? Can I get one—and, more importantly, will it sing that tune? Apparently, watching the film repeatedly hasn’t disturbed me quite enough.
I say bring it back for this years Christmas sales! Why not reconcile with a symbol of pure craziness. It is in style today. Isn’t it?
