NR | 1 h 48 min | Drama | 1948
Writer Mary Jane Ward’s brief hospitalization following a nervous breakdown inspired her novel “The Snake Pit,” in which she provoked widespread introspection by likening harsh conditions in mental hospitals to zoos or prisons. Producer-director Anatole Litvak’s film, based on Ward’s book, went further, inspiring reform of America’s mental health system. Some 26 states legislated to infuse more empathy into understaffed, underfunded hospitals.
The title draws inspiration from apparently an ancient belief in some traditions that, while the shock of being thrown into a snake pit can drive the sane insane, it might, hopefully for some, have the opposite effect.
Robert (Mark Stevens) is happily married to Virginia (Olivia de Havilland). When she experiences a baffling nervous breakdown, instead of alienating her in shame or embarrassment, he seeks medical help. And instead of blaming her for a painful distancing that her enforced hospitalization entails, he visits regularly and later tries desperately to prove that she’s well enough to be discharged.
In the hospital, Virginia copes with a shifting sense of self, subdued memories told through flashbacks, and long-suppressed fears that pop up as insistent whispers in her head. Meanwhile, a sympathetic Dr. Kik (Leo Genn) copes with overcrowded wards, apathetic nurses, bureaucratic management, and the still exploratory field of psychoanalysis, wherein treatment, including electroshock, may not match the diagnosis.
Virginia moves from one ward to the next, sometimes in hope, at other times in despair. To her, hope lies in Kik’s sensitive handling of her progress; he helps her to slowly piece together memories and make sense of them. Despair lies in the way that rude nurses, especially Nurse Davis (Helen Craig), handle episodes of regression; Virginia repeatedly loses her sense of time, people, places, and events.
In the opening scene, Virginia and fellow inmate Grace (Celeste Holm) are chatting cheerfully in an open courtyard. Suddenly, a cry rends the air. An austere-looking nurse starts herding them and other inmates, all disheveled women, back into wards.
As they stumble submissively forward in an orderly row toward the hospital, the camera takes in a wider, grimmer picture: A 10-foot-high barbed-wire fence cuts the campus off from the outer world.
Outstanding Cast in Understated Performances
Litvak’s message is about empathy: There’s no health without healthcare. Kik, looking for psychological wounds from Virginia’s past that might help unlock healing in the present, believes that the hospital has rarely had a case file that revealed so little. Robert wishes he could reveal more about Virginia but, “when you love somebody, you’re not looking for symptoms.”Yes, clarity, insight, self-awareness, and judgment make us human, but Kik’s empathy shows in his refusal to treat patients like Virginia as subhuman just because they lack these traits.
Once, a nurse absent-mindedly collects a dinner plate too soon from a table where doctors are animatedly discussing Virginia’s prognosis. One of the doctors points out the obvious: “Can’t you see that the doctor hasn’t finished it yet?” It’s a brilliant Litvak touch, showing how tempting it is for caregivers to act mechanically, whether showing affection in homes (flashbacks show Virginia’s childhood home) or administering therapy in hospitals (Virginia blossoms when she’s around thoughtful nurses and doctors).
Shorn of glamorous makeup, hairstyles, and costuming, de Havilland plays against type. Overwhelmed by a bewildering therapeutic regimen, she presses her hands to her temples and paces to and fro, moaning softly in agony at some unexplained guilt. Her outstanding portrayal of a fragmenting mind secured her a Best Actress Oscar nomination.
Stevens is convincing as the doting Robert. When Virginia suggests divorce so that he can have his “freedom” rather than be “tied” to her, he’s indignant: “The few hours I can spend here with you, that’s my freedom!”
Litvak knows that scenes provoking audience curiosity or confusion merely to depict a character’s state of mind can be engrossing, even mildly entertaining. But they can turn tiresome after a point without an emotional core, an everyman quality. So, he coaxes audiences to reflect on any prejudices toward the mentally ill, and any cynicism about mental health professionals.
Litvak’s story asks: What’s worse, a debilitating mental illness or apathetic caregivers? His film answers—eloquently.
