I have no experience with mental institutions, not modern ones and certainly not those that existed in 1948. But I have enough experience with medical institutions and institutions in general to believe that "The Snake Pit," Anatole Litvak's harrowing film about one woman's journey through the hell of mental illness, gives a fairly accurate account. It's of course a bit histrionic and heavy handed in the way most films from that time period were (and many are still today), but that's just a product of age, not a flaw in the filmmaking. Olivia de Havilland gives a fierce performance as a woman struggling with an unnamed mental disorder that finds her in an agonizing cycle of progress that gives her hope of recovery coupled with setbacks that send her spiraling into black holes of despair. A kind doctor (Leo Genn) helps her to uncover and face the demons that caused her disorder in the first place. A lot of time is devoted to reconstructing scenes from her childhood, and her illness is blamed on an unloving mother and guilt over her father's death. But the cause of de Havilland's illness was less interesting to me than the politics and social structure of the mental institution itself. There is a class system in place in which the healthier patients are "superior" to those less healthy; they're essentially rewarded with nicer rooms, more space, better treatment from staff, while the worst of the patients are crammed together into what amount to brick and stone dungeons. And this class system is observed not only by the hospital staff, but by the patients themselves. What's most frightening about "The Snake Pit" is how little we've advanced in the perception and treatment of mental illness in the years since the movie was made.Celeste Holm, fresh off an Oscar for "Gentleman's Agreement," has a teeny-tiny role as a fellow inmate, while Betsy Blair, also in a small role, nevertheless makes a tremendous impact in a few scenes late into the movie."The Snake Pit" garnered six Academy Award nominations in 1948, including Best Motion Picture (20th Century-Fox), Best Director (Anatole Litvak), Best Actress (Olivia de Havilland), Best Screenplay (Frank Partos and Millen Brand) and Best Dramatic/Comedy Score (Alfred Newman), but won only a single award, that for Best Sound Recording, no doubt recognizing the film's cacophony of interior and exterior ravings. De Havilland was neck and neck with Jane Wyman for the Best Actress Oscar, but Wyman prevailed for playing another woman with mental trauma in "Johnny Belinda."Grade: A

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.

When I was 8 I remember visiting my mother at Pilgrim State Hospital on Long Island. Years later I saw this film and it was if I was back at Pilgrim State. Realistic, frightening, heart-wrenching, poignant and yet, in the end, hopeful. Some others have mentioned the non-Oscar for de Havilland. Yet she did get two for other films in the same era( Streep has only one Oscar for best actress with more than a dozen nominations). Others have mentioned other films about mental illness, yet the one that comes closest to this in terms of realism and total effect, I believe, is Lost Weekend, which won a Best Picture Oscar just a few years earlier.

Let's hope clinical conditions have improved in the last 60 years. Because, if Virginia (de Havilland) wasn't crazy going in, she will be after staying there. Those day-room scenes are genuinely unnerving. The patients mill around like berserk billiard balls, each in an enclosed world, pursued by their own internal demons. Then there's Hester's (Betsy Blair) frozen stare that chilled me as a kid and still does. What terrible psychic injury is behind that fearful silence, and who will help overcome the unspoken torment.Yes, it's also a case for reform, but an effective one without being preachy. Hundreds of the afflicted are warehoused around an over-worked staff. No wonder nurses like Davis (a great Helen Craig) become petty tyrants, trying to keep some order. Sure, Dr. Kik (Genn) is idealized and so in her own way is Virginia. At first I thought that was nothing more than typical Hollywood pandering. But now I see the two as providing needed hope, given negative opinions of the day. With humane care there is hope for these folks. That's the point of the dance—some kind of normalcy struggling to come out. At the same time, it all comes together in that gut-wrenching "Goin' Home"— something like the choral expression of a human basic. Okay, probably some of the emotional load has caught me up. But not everything is roses. Mark Steven's understanding hubby really does go too far. Some mixed feelings about Virginia's chances would add a needed dimension. Also, the unprofessional finger-wagging looks contrived and unimaginative. I'm sure too that Kik's Freudianizing is subject to debate. And truth be told, it comes across as pretty facile. Nonetheless, the movie's well structured for overall impact. And thanks be to TCF for the supporting players who remain vivid and impressive. So, whatever the drawbacks, the movie still packs a humane message within a dramatic punch. One that can still be felt, even six decades later.