This is an unusual film that has a young Warren Beatty playing Vincent, a Korean War veteran, who is taken on as an occupational therapist at a mental institution for wealthy patients. If for no other reason this is worth watching for its improbable and disparate cast: besides Beatty there is Jean Seaberg as a patient (Lilith), Kim Hunter as a doctor on the institution's staff, Peter Fonda as the introverted patient Steve, and Gene Hackman as the husband of one of Vincent's previous flames.

A good percentage of the scenes are filmed in extreme close-up, particularly the ones between Beatty and Seberg. The black-and-white photography is well suited for this, since facial expressions carry more force in black-and-white.

It's hard to pin down what the problems are that the patients have. Perhaps that is the nature of mental illness, but the patient's peculiarities struck me as a bit exaggerated. There are sexual undertones running throughout (well, in the case of Beatty and Seberg more than undertones). Steve fancies Lilith and makes timid attempts to attract her and convinces himself, wrongly, that there is hope there. Vincent's presence seems to release a sort of pan-sexuality in Lilith. Not only does she take up with him, but she also has a lesbian connection with another patient and displays an ill-defined affinity for pre-pubescent boys.

Waterfalls and running water turn Lilith on and there is a scene where she looks at her reflection in a lake and kisses the image, another indication of sexuality running wild I guess.

Vincent himself is no model of sanity. There is a connection between his feelings for his dead mother and those for Lilith, whose appearance bears a striking resemblance to his mother. Beyond that, Vincent has a lot of unresolved issues that are only hinted at. Precise character analysis is not what this movie is about and you are left wondering just what it *is* about. One thing for sure, dealing with sexuality in a mental institution is not an exact science.

There is a lengthy sequence where Vincent and Lilith go to a fair and Vincent enters a jousting contest where horseback riders use their lances to pluck small rings from suspended metal mounts. This has to be one of the oddest sequences in all of moviedom.

When it was over, my reaction was (and is), "I'm not sure what to make of this movie."

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!