Lilith

This forgotten, totally under-appreciated film from 1964 is very powerful (I believe it was Robert Rossen's last film). Strangely hypnotic and frightening in a very subtle way, this showed Beatty three years before B&C showing the potential he had in Splendor in the Grass. He also met Gene Hackman while making this and later cast him as his brother in B&C which launched Hackman.

There is also a splendid performance from Peter Fonda, of all people. As Hackman's wife, Jessica Walter showed how amazing she was at a relatively young age and just never got the right parts in decent films. You'll also see a young Rene Auberjenois and Olympia Dukakis in a bit part. I hope more people look into this devastating piece on mental illness.

The mental institution in this film, called "Poplar Lodge" I believe, is modeled on Chestnut Lodge, a Bethesda, Maryland institution famed for early attempts to establish interpersonal relationships with (rich) psychotic patients. This fits the institutional style depicted in this film. Hopwever, the main characters do not seem to be mentally ill so much as metaphores for the madness es in our society. The perception that sexual expression represents evil or crazy behavior, not changed all that much from the time this film was made, frequent wars, and the way sensitive people are brushed aside as others hustle toward dubious goals, are all personified as forms of madness. Okay so far.

But the film does not quite work. The character played by Anne Meacham, seething with barely suppressed sexuality, works, but Lilith, played as a golden haired all American, girl next door beauty, doing and saying odd things, making up her own language, seeing herself as an outside observer of our society, is a character which doesn't hit home. She seems more quirky than mad. That she drives men into destructive actions seems somehow unlikely. At the most, she may be a catalyst for their weaknesses to be expressed.

Jean Seberg doesn't personify madness. She seems just bemused. Warren Beatty conveys a lack of inner direction, a developing depression, and strange longings by looking blank, seeming inarticulate, and acting as if he has no idea of the direction his next step will take. All of this slows this film down to a very languid pace, frequently accompanied by a relaxed bop-along jazz score. Thus, the film is too slow, a long windup for a soft pitch. It is hard to feel much tension, even though it is clear that there is supposed to be a lot of tension. Nice try, but no cigar.

One of the great pleasures of watching older films is that, beyond the obvious joys of character and plot, they also offer us a look past the films' action and into the world in which they were made: the fashions of dress, design, and social attitude that prevailed at the time. All of this "background," so taken for granted by the filmmakers in their day, can, when seen across a focal space of time and social change, reveal fascinating elements unguessed-at when the films were made.

So it is with LILITH. Other comments on this film have more than adequately discussed the plots and motivations of the characters; what I found unexpectedly mesmerizing and appalling was its view of the mental institution of the mid-1960s. Warren Beatty's character has no experience in such a setting, but he'd like to "help people," so he's hired on the spot and immediately put in charge of patients who, by definition, aren't responsible for their own actions. The inmates seem to be mostly left to do as they please, whether it be teetering at the edge of a precipitous cliff or wandering off in the woods, easily slipping away from their inattentive keepers.

When Beatty's character begins to be attracted to Lilith, the chief shrink calls him in and asks if this is the case. "No, I don't think so," says Beatty, patently lying through his teeth. "Well," says Dr Big reassuringly, "it's not unheard-of for patients to fall in love with the orderlies, and sometimes, unfortunately, it happens the other way as well." And that's that: with this appalling (to modern-day ears, at any rate) bit of 'advice,' or possibly nudge-wink encouragement, he pats the oafish horndog on the back, tells him he's doing a great job, and sends him off to town on yet another date with Lilith. Whenever Beatty does express concern about anything job-related, the medical staff just interrupts him with "don't worry, you're doing a fine job" and gently shoos him out.

What a different world it was, forty years ago! Mind you, I'm not judging the film by social standards that never occurred to its time; indeed, the things it reveals about the 'care' of mental patients in 1963 are what made it most interesting to me. All the characters are either entertainingly insane or arrestingly clueless idiots, and Lilith herself is a sufficiently complex and compelling character to make this melodrama watchable all on her own.

Robert Rossen would only direct ten films in the space of 17 years and, despite their sometimes erratic quality, he was a talented and highly respected figure. His neglected and misunderstood swan-song was deemed by some a means of reparation for his former Communist beliefs and the fact that he was a friendly witness during the HUAC hearings (the confused hero wanting to make good but ending up disillusioned); when the picture was mauled by critics, he got cold feet and bailed out of his intention to present it at the Venice Film Festival!

Few American movies up to this point had revolved around insane asylums, most notably the prestigious THE SNAKE PIT (1948), Vincente Minnelli's glossy, all-star melodrama THE COBWEB (1955) and the somewhat hysterical SHOCK CORRIDOR (1963) from maverick film-maker Samuel Fuller. Still, this is more of a character study than a serious treatment of its subject matter (which, outside of the inmates played by Jean Seberg and Peter Fonda – a nice early dramatic showcase for the latter – are restricted to a handful of intense irrational outbursts, for lack of a better phrase). Even so, Warren Beatty’s brooding occupational therapist protagonist is himself often impenetrable (despite the sympathetic guidance of asylum head Kim Hunter) – justifying his own breakdown at the film’s abrupt, haunting conclusion. The essential gloominess of the piece is, however, offset by passages of lyricism (the ethereal yet experimental black-and-white cinematography by veteran Eugen Schuftan – who had won as Oscar for Rossen’s previous film, THE HUSTLER [1961] – is exquisite throughout): that said, sequences such as the lengthy interlude at the fair (complete with an archaic jousting tournament) seem to be making some obscure point or other which renders it a slightly pretentious whole.

Apart from the fact that therapist and patient are involved in a tempestuous love affair, the film’s controversial aspects entail scenes subtly depicting paedophelia, a lesbian relationship and also the temptation for an extra-marital fling by Beatty’s former girlfriend (Jessica Walter); a young Gene Hackman appears as Walter’s workaholic but uncouth husband in one scene – naturally, he would re-unite with Beatty for Arthur Penn’s seminal BONNIE AND CLYDE (1967). Despite his classic good looks, Beatty didn’t conform to Hollywood standards – opting from the outset for gritty and often demanding fare (including John Frankenheimer’s ALL FALL DOWN [1962] and Penn’s MICKEY ONE [1965]) whenever he could. The beguiling Seberg exudes effortless sensuality in the role of the enigmatic Lilith which, reportedly, was her own personal favorite; chillingly, the climactic regression into total madness of her character parallels that of the actress herself who would eventually take her own life 15 years later!

Jean Seberg was a woefully inadequate actress in almost every role in which she was cast but she seemed born to play Lilith, the unstable, deeply amoral 'heroine' of Robert Rossen's last film. It's an extraordinary performance and it's extraordinary because it doesn't appear to have anything to do with 'acting'; it just seems to exist. The theme of the film is madness, not 'mental illness' but madness in the truly Shakespearean sense of the word, and everything about the film is heightened, a little unreal. Eugen Schufftan photographs the film in a hazy monochrome with the emphasis on white. We peer at the characters through shafts of sunlight, (and there is a lot of water on view, too).

And Seberg isn't the only extraordinary performance. There is excellent work, too, from Warren Beatty as the young nurse drawn into Lilith's web, Kim Hunter as the woman who runs the institution where Lilith is housed and Peter Fonda, (the best of his early performances) as another patient obsessed with Lilith. Indeed the whole cast, (which includes a brilliant, early cameo from Gene Hackman), is working at the top of their form.

The film is an adaptation of a J R Salamanca novel but Rossen renders it in wholly visual terms. He uses his camera the way an artist uses his canvas to convey the inner lives of his characters. It isn't a total success. There are times when it dissolves into hysteria and the symbolism tends to get a bit top-heavy, but it is still a fearless, totally uncommercial movie, possibly it's director's best, and a key American movie of the sixties.