Spellbound (1945 film)

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Spellbound is a 1945 film about a female psychiatrist who protects the identity of an amnesia patient accused of murder while attempting to recover his memory.

Directed by Alfred Hitchcock. Written by Angus MacPhail and Ben Hecht, based on the novel The House of Dr. Edwardes (1927) by Hilary Saint George Saunders and John Palmer (writing as "Francis Beeding").
Will he Kiss me or Kill me?taglines

John Ballantyne[edit]

  • If there's anything I hate, it's a smug woman.
  • For what it's worth, I can't remember ever having kissed another woman before.
  • Doctor, as an analyst you annoy me.

Constance Petersen[edit]

  • I'm here as your doctor only. It has nothing to do with love. [John kisses her and they embrace each other tightly] Nothing at all. Nothing at all...

Dr. Alex Brulov[edit]

  • Good night and happy dreams... which we will analyze at breakfast.
  • Women make the best psychoanalysts until they fall in love. After that they make the best patients.
  • You grant me I know more than you, but on the other hand, you know more than me. Women's talk. Bah!
  • Any husband of Constance is a husband of mine, so to speak.
  • My dear girl, you can not keep bumping your head against reality and saying it is not there.
  • There's lots of happiness in working hard. Maybe the most.
  • What is there for you to see? We both know that the mind of a woman in love is operating on the lowest level of the intellect!

Dr. Murchison[edit]

  • [with his revolver pointed at Constance] You're an excellent analyst, Dr. Peterson, but a rather stupid woman.
  • The old must make way for the new, especially when the old is suspected of senility.


Constance Petersen: Are you making love to me?
Dr. Fleurot: I will in a moment. I'm just clearing the ground first. [tries to kiss her, but she recoils] It's rather like embracing a textbook.
Constance Petersen: But why do you do it, then?
Dr. Fleurot: Because you're not a textbook. You're a sweet, pulsing, adorable woman underneath. I sense it every time I come near you.
Constance Petersen: You sense only your own desires and pulsations. I assure you, mine in no way resemble them.

Constance Petersen: I think the greatest harm done the human race has been done by the poets
Anthony Edwardes: Oh, poets are dull boys, most of them, but not especially fiendish.
Constance Petersen: They keep filling people's heads with delusions about love... writing about it as if it were a symphony orchestra or a flight of angels.
Anthony Edwardes: Which is isn't, eh?
Constance Petersen: Of course not. People fall in love, as they put it, because they respond to a certain hair coloring or vocal tones or mannerisms that remind them of their parents.
Anthony Edwardes: Or... or... sometimes for no reason at all.
Constance Petersen: That's not the point. The point is that people read about love as one thing and experience it as another. Well, they expect kisses to be like lyrical poems and embraces to be like Shakespearean dramas.
Anthony Edwardes: And when they find out differently, then they get sick and have to be analyzed, eh?
Constance Petersen: Yes, very often.
Anthony Edwardes: Professor, you're suffering from "mogo on the gogo"
Constance Petersen: I beg your pardon!

John Ballantine: That Freud stuff's a bunch of hooey.
Dr. Alex Brulov: Oh, you are a fine one to talk! You have a guilt complex and amnesia and you don't know if you are coming or going from somewhere, but Freud is hooey! This you know! Hmph! Wiseguy.

Constance Petersen: All analysts have to be psychoanalyzed by other analysts before they start practicing.
John Ballantine: Ahhh, that's to make sure that they're not too crazy.


  • Will he Kiss me or Kill me?
  • The Maddest Love that ever possessed a woman


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