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Virginia Cunningham (Olivia de Havilland) finds herself in a state insane asylum... and cannot remember how she got there. In flashback, her husband Robert relates their courtship, marriage, and her developing symptoms.

Stephen King says this film terrified him as a child, because he felt that he could go crazy at any moment (and worst of all, not even be aware that he was crazy). And, indeed, there is something terrifying about this film. While many films have taken place in mental hospital, I think very few really address how normal most mentally ill people are most of the time, or the fine balance between sane and insane.

I do not know much about Olivia de Havilland, but she really pulled all the stops here. If she is capable of this level of intensity, she probably should have been a bigger star than she was.

"The Snake Pit" is based on a true story written by Mary Jane Ward in the hopes it would bring to the attention of the people, the horrors that a person faced in a mental institution at the time, pre-1948. The character, Virginia, was based on Miss Ward's own experience in a mental hospital. Even though the film was nominated for various Oscars, it only won for the musical score. I think that was probably because at the time mental illness was considered taboo. Olivia deHavilland acted the character of Virginia brilliantly as did everyone else in the film and Betsy Blair in her portrayal of Hester looked like she was completely and totally beyond help. Just look at her eyes. You will see what I mean. To this very day, I think it is the most haunting and most accurate of all films that have been released on the treatment of emotional disorders. I think all characters were portrayed as Mary Jane Ward wanted them to be portrayed, as I studied her book and watched the film while in high school in the early 1960's. Great book and a great film not afraid to show the abuse by certain medical personnel.

The Snake Pit is directed by Anatole Litvak and adapted to screenplay by Frank Partos, Millen Brand and Arthur Laurents from the novel written by Mary Jane Ward. It stars Olivia de Havilland, Mark Stevens, Leo Genn, Celeste Holm, Glenn Langan, Helen Craig, Leif Erickson and Beulah Bondi. Music is by Alfred Newman and cinematography by Leo Tover.

Olivia de Havilland plays Virginia Stuart Cunningham, and film chronicles Virgina's time and treatment in the Juniper Hill Mental Institution.

"It was strange, here I was among all those people, and at the same time I felt as if I were looking at them from some place far away, the whole place seemed to me like a deep hole and the people down in it like strange animals, like... like snakes, and I've been thrown into it... yes... as though... as though I were in a snake pit..."

It's still today one of the most potent and important screen explorations of mental illness and its treatment. Backed by an astonishing performance by de Havilland, Litvak and an initially sceptical Darryl F. Zanuck (20th Century Fox supremo), led the way in bringing to the masses the subject and to treat it with stark realism. Quite often it's harrowing as entertainment, with Virgina's fractured mind laid bare under duress of treatments now seen as antiquated.

It's true enough to say that some of the story features simplistic motives and means, these come as a product of the time the picture was made. But with Litvak (Sorry, Wrong Number) and his principal crew members researching the subject thoroughly, the end result is an incredible blend of dramatic heartfelt suspense and rays of humanistic hope. As Virginia weaves her way through this maze of psychological discord, with flashbacks constantly adding layers to the character's make up, Litvak presents a fascinating portrait of asylum life and the people who resided there, both as patients and staff.

Some scenes are brilliantly crafted, either as visual expansions of the story or as shards of light in a dark world. One sequence sees Litvak track "dancing" silhouettes on a wall, and to then do a pull away shot upwards to reveal Virginia in the snake pit, the impact is stark in its magnificence. Another sequence takes place at a dance for the patients, where a rendition of Antonín Dvorák's "Goin' Home" turns into something quite beautiful, a unison of profound optimism that strikes the heart like the calm after a storm.

Leo Tover's (The Day The Earth Stood Still) crisp black and white photography is perfectly in sync with the material, and Newman's (Wuthering Heights) magnificent score bounces around the institution like a spectral observer. With de Havilland doing her tour de force, it could be easy to forget the great work of Genn and Stevens, the former is a bastion of assured calmness as Dr. Mark Kik, the latter as Virgina's husband Robert underplays it to perfection and he gives us a character to root for wholesale.

It has to be viewed in the context of the era it was made, but its influence on future movies and awareness of mental health treatments in the real world should not be understated. A brilliant production that demands to be seen. 9/10

Touted as the first film explicitly recounting a patient's baptism of fire in a mental institution, THE SNAKE PIT, directed by Anatole Litvak and starring a doughty Olivia de Havilland (102-year-old-young as of today) as our protagonist Virginia Cunningham, still pluckily holds court after seven decades have elapsed.

Litvak's opening swiftly plunges audience together with Virginia in her wandering mental state in medias res, a woman discernibly suffers from amnesia and dogged by hallucination (the voice in her head), has no inking of her whereabouts and the impending revelation of being locked up inside a psychiatric hospital for women shocks her to the core and simultaneously piques our curiosity, what is wrong with her?

The puzzle will be solved by a meandering but ultimately satisfying and commendably less lurid approach, through the intermittent flashback fragments, first from Robert (Stevens, a carbon copy of Dennis Morgan, the star in Sam Woods's KITTY FOYLE, 1940), her clueless but all-too-understanding foil hubby, and in time, by way of the radical therapies at the behest of Dr. Kik (Genn, exceptionally transmits a clinical yet personable poker-faced sensibility), through Virginia's own endeavor, which accumulatively dredges up her subconsciously suppressed memories, and traces the root of her condition in her Electra complex at a very young age and ensuing guilt germinates after the death of her father and another father figure.

The script conscientiously shirks any shocking-value manipulation, and patiently unfolds Virginia's tale-of-woe with a limpid sense of scientific correctness (electro-shock therapy, hypnotherapy, hydrotherapy and straitjacket, the whole package is here) and a winning consideration toward our heroine, whose taxing waxing-and-waning battle (the lowest point is to being thrown into the titular snake pit, a place for those who are beyond help, with an added figurative signification of the extreme means subjected to them, to treat insanity with insane action) against schizophrenia earns the auspicious ending over the long haul fair and square.

The story's positive overlook on Virginia's recuperation doesn't necessarily overshadow Litvak's unsparing depiction of an overpopulated institution, regulated by its own echelons and bureaucracy, yet, in presenting the often vilified hospital staff, he maintains a perspicacious mind, there are good apples and bad apples, but mostly they are just trying to do their overloaded job and occasionally are afflicted by career fatigue, even the most callous one, nurse Davis (quite a scene-stealer Helen Craig), turns out to be driven more by her self-seeking consciousness than sadistic vileness. Time and again, the film proves that each head case is an entrancing thespian per se (great cameos from Celeste Holm, Beulah Bondi, Lee Patrick, Betsy Blair and then some), but a striking vibe of sororal unity points up Litvak and co.'s humane disposition that overpowers any attempt of caricature or exploitation.

A de-glamorized de Havilland pours herself all on her character, brilliantly alternates between Virginia's manifold frames-of-mind, running the gamut from intense distress to heart-felt compassion, and makes the movie a compulsive viewing even just for the sake of her performance alone, whereas in those quieter moments, she can also make her marks in imparting Virginia's transient displacement with nuances and bonafides, a sterling showcase for her acting chops, and a compelling case study that doesn't relinquish its rapier-like perception for the sake of dramatization, more importantly and edifyingly, THE SNAKE PIT alerts us that it is not that rare for a person to go off the trolley, damage might have be done from the very start.

Olivia DeHavilland gives another standout performance in "The Snake Pit," also starring Leo Genn, Mark Stevens, and Celeste Holm. In line with the interest in psychiatry after World War II, Darryl F. Zanuck, always at the forefront of social issues, produced this film, directed by Anatole Litvak.

DeHavilland plays a troubled, often disoriented woman with unexplained mood swings who winds up in a state mental hospital with no memory of her new husband (Mark Stevens). She becomes a patient of Dr. Kik (Genn) who patiently works with her to try and get to the core of her problem, and to do so, employs several rounds of electroshock therapy. Together they uncover suppressed memories.

One thing that's noticeable about the films of the golden age is their mastery of the art of the build-up, while today, screenwriters get to the point in the first 10 minutes of the film. "The Snake Pit" is very modern in this way, starting on a high note and working backwards into what brought this woman into the hospital. Given the story, it's very effective. It also keeps you guessing because the conditions at the mental institution, as well as the behavior of some of the staff and the patients makes one suspect something sinister is going on - kind of a "Shock Treatment" scenario. It takes a while to realize that Dr. Kik is on the level, a concerned and committed doctor.

The film is beautifully done, and who can forget the overhead "snake pit" shot toward the end of the film. The song "Going Home" sung by one of the patients at a dance is one of the best moments, as are the harrowing scenes of the electroshock therapy and the bath with the covering over it that DeHavilland is put into - the feeling of being trapped and having no control is pervasive throughout the film. With the advancement in medications today, one aches for the characters, trapped in illnesses often not understood or treatable.

Olivia DeHavilland is sympathetic and heart-wrenching as Virginia, a woman panicked by behavior she can't recall or can't control. When backed up against the wall, her voice changes and becomes harsh; she almost seems like a split personality. One believes every second of her torment. Leo Genn strikes the exact right note as Dr. Kik, a perfect combination of gentleness, concern, and professionalism. His scene at the dance and his final scene with DeHavilland are very touching and especially the last moments bring me to tears. Mark Stevens gives a sensitive performance as Virginia's handsome and loving husband who is loyal to her throughout her ordeal.

There has been much progress in mental disease and removal of much of the stigma. "The Snake Pit" reminds one of a more primitive time. Wonderful performances, direction, and a good story make this a true classic.