The Snake Pit

The Snake Pit might be one of the first attempts at showcasing the standards and practices of mental health institutions, but its awkward politics reveal the era that it was produced it. That is say to nothing of the committed performances of the actors, especially de Havilland, or the directorial flourishes. It all comes down to the writing.

Olivia de Havilland, so sweet and so good on the outside, portrays a woman who feels her sanity slowly slipping away from her. She is institutionalized after marrying a man and displaying erratic behavior. She is truly sick? Why, yes, she is. She has lived through a tremendous trauma, I will not spoil it for you, and has since begun the slow process of mentally shattering. There are also hints at some kind of Freudian psychology and a history of mental unease. But not even de Havilland’s fierce performance – so believable and heartbreaking because she so often plays the good, moral and noble character – can save the film from the treatment that she is given. To put it simply, if she stops marching to her own drum and becomes the good, subservient wife and mother that everyone wants her to be she’ll be happy and sane. Then how do you explain the extended sequences of obvious schizophrenia, electroshock therapy and hydrotherapy? If she gets a husband and a child she’ll chemically hit her own reset button? They meant well, I think.