An intense movie, beautifully filmed in black and white. It explores, at times perhaps unwittingly, some of the clichés surrounding mental illness. At the time it was made LSD was certainly being used as an experimental treatment in some locations, and the professional boundaries which we take for granted these days were likely less evolved. There is no mention or inference about the details of medical treatment, but even so there are one or two scenes that smack of unbridled fantasy. But who am I to judge what may or may not have been likely in 1960's USA?
I found the first half hour a little slow, but the film became more engaging as the plot developed.
Unfortunately although the ending was probably a realistic kind of outcome, I found it difficult, abrupt and disappointing, and I wonder if it wasn't perhaps even a little moralistic. I didn't want to watch it again, even though the acting performances and cinematography were excellent.
A slow, brooding character study, Lilith pairs Warren Beatty’s war veteran with Jean Seberg’s magnetic patient in a mental institution. On paper it promises fire, but in practice it smoulders more than it burns. The film is beautifully shot — every frame polished and deliberate — and Seberg gives the kind of performance that makes you lean forward, brittle and radiant at once.
Beatty, by contrast, feels stiff, and the Freudian psychology tips toward melodrama. What should be unsettling starts to feel overwrought, as if the script is more fascinated with case studies than characters. Still, there’s an atmosphere that’s hard to deny: hushed, claustrophobic, and occasionally hypnotic.
For all its beauty and intensity, though, the story never quite earns its weight. Lilith draws you in, then circles the same ground until the tension thins. It’s a striking swan song for Rossen, but not an entirely satisfying one.