Nunca te prometí un jardín de rosas

Kathleen Quinlan plays Deborah, a very bright girl, who is institutionalized for three years in a psychiatric hospital. Though different from the book in some ways, this keeps the spirit of it quite well and with a much more satisfying ending than the book. Quinlan is a wonderful actress. Deborah, who is diagnosed as a schizophrenic (though she probably wouldn't be today), has a long, torturous journey through her illness. Quinlan makes us believe that she will succeed. In addition, there is a strong cast of mostly women of many ages. I saw this film first when I was a teenager and the problems Deborah faced also resonated with me (despite not being in a hospital). I have never forgotten this film, though it has been out of print on video for many years and can only view it when it occasionally makes it on television. Catch it if you can -- especially if you are a teenage girl or ever were.

Not a movie to catch if you're feeling down. Those scenes in the dayroom where the afflicted patients mingle are almost scary. Each woman acts out her own version of mental derangement, from hollering, to yelling in-your-face, to grabbing and shoving. Looks to me like the Pittsburgh Steelers are needed to keep order. In fact, I can't understand why therapeutic science would allow such intermingling among the psychologically afflicted. Just what the therapeutic effects might be is beyond me. Actually the tormented images brought back similar ones from the 1948 flick, The Snake Pit, that scared the heck out of me as a kid, except this 1977 epic should maybe be called The Demon Pit. I guess this movie's ironic title was so as not to scare off prospective viewers.

Actually what holds the movie together are outstanding performances by the two leading actresses, Quinlan and Andersson. I don't think I've seen a more emotionally affecting turn than Quinlan's, as her teenage Deborah poignantly struggles with inner demons she imagines as some kind of tyrannical barbarians. Aside from that inner struggle, we unfortunately know little about her or why she has lost her grip. Or for that matter do we know much about any of the many characters roaming the halls. Coming to Debbie's aid is psychiatrist Dr. Fried portrayed winningly by Swedish actress Andersson. She's low-key in her methods and between the two there's a growing magnetism that brings us back from the scenes of torment. To me, Quinlan at least deserved an Oscar nomination as I don't think I've been so moved in 70 years of movie watching as by her huggable presence. Also, it's good to see vintage actress Sylvia Sydney picking up a payday. Forty years earlier and that fine soulful actress could have succeeded as the poignant young Deborah.

(In Passing: Though it passes by quickly, note Deborah's unconventionally hairy armpit, showing her rejection of a significant gender norm. It also shows production's careful attention to minor detail.)

All in all, the movie's too exotic for me to rate on the usual scale. But, despite the histrionics and foggy chairacter backgrounds, you may want to catch its engagingly sensitive core.

This isn't a film that always works, but when it does, it finds its way so deep under your skin that the pain is surprising. The acting is what stands above everything else here. I suppose I'd seen Kathleen Quinlan before, but I can't say I've ever really noticed her. Maybe it's because she's so young, so human here that it stands out amongst everything else she did before and after this. Her performance is wild, heartbreaking, intensely realized. Other performances, like Bibi Andersson, are great, but not as essential as Quinlan.

This is ground that has been covered with perhaps more consistency (in a cinematic sense) with films like "Girl, Interrupted" but never with the same emotional depth as here. Anthony Page makes a lot of strange, even bad directorial decisions perhaps, but he captures a crazed, uneasy tone in the cinematography and performances that brings it all together. The only odd points are the off-center dreams/hallucination sequences and out-of-place soundtrack. If you can overlook these, this is a truly great film. It really tore my heart out.

I agree completely with Dara. I was 20 when I saw it and I would recommend reading the book first, which gives you the background for Deborah's dreamlife. The film can't even begin to show the cruel beauty of her inner world, and (perhaps appropriately) omits any reference to her ethnic and familial demons.

When I think of this movie, I see the look in Kathleen Quinlan's eyes. Her performance is precocious and utterly...amazing, especially for an actress just into her 20's. She seems possessed, wholly inhabited by the character of Deborah, and her scenes with Bibi Andersson are magical. I would credit the director and cinematographer with the wonderful feel of the movie, but Quinlan's portrayal of a young girl marooned in a parallel universe of her mind's own devising is timeless.

This is a film which came too late.Anybody who sees it is going to compare it to Anatole Litvak's "the snake pit" (1948).But that was then and this is now and the evolution is barely discernible.If "snake pit" was (unfairly) dismissed as obsolete,what can we say of a movie which was produced thirty years later and (roughly) depicts the same milieu? The most interesting thing in that average-to-good foray into psychiatry is its cast.Bergmanian Bibi Anderson is ideally cast as the shrink who tells the disappointed heroine "I've never promised you a rose garden".But there are also former glories such as Signe Hasso and Sylvia Sydney and future stars (Dennis Quaid).