Freud

Director: John Huston
Writers: Wolfgang Reinhardt, Charles Kaufman, Jean-Paul Sartre (uncredited)
Starring: ‎Montgomery Clift, Susanna York, Larry Parks, Eric Portman
Year: 1962
Duration: 141 mins
BBFC Certification: 18

For a figure as groundbreaking, controversial and as influential as Sigmund Freud, it is surprising that there haven’t been that many cinematic explorations of his life and work. Freudian ideas certainly seeped their way into cinema (we’re looking at you Hitchcock) but biopics of the man himself are rather thin on the ground. One of the more recent and successful attempts was David Cronenburg’s 2011 drama A Dangerous Method, but looking at anything before that…well, there’s certainly not much of note to explore.

Except, of course, for 1962’s imaginatively titled Freud, which combined the talents of no less than John Huston, Montgomery Clift and Jean-Paul Sartre. Exploring Freud’s story from his beginnings as an ordinary doctor in training right up to his first presentation of the Oedipus Complex and infantile sexuality to his very shocked and outraged colleagues, the film takes a very different tack from Cronenburg’s much later movie, which instead focused on Freud’s combative relationship with fellow psychoanalyst Carl Jung. The end result is a serious, studied film that soberly tackles its thorny subject matter with diligence and care. Considering the fraught nature of its production, it is also amazing that Freud comes out as considered and well crafted as it does.

Huston first became fascinated by psychoanalysis and what it could achieve when he made Let There Be Light, a documentary film about WW2 veterans at a psychiatric hospital. Determined to make a film about the founding father of psychoanalysis, Huston roped in none other than French philosopher Jean-Paul Sartre to write the script. The resulting 1000+ page behemoth was completely unfilmable, which forced Huston to embark on a series of major editorial cuts. These hadn’t been completed by the time Freud went into production, where constant script revisions were handed to the cast almost daily, causing stress for almost everyone, but for the film’s star, it proved to be an absolute hell.

Montgomery Clift was not in a good place in the early sixties. An horrific car accident in 1956 had left him scarred and broken; it also resulted in a dependance on alcohol and drugs. Despite turning in some memorable work during this period (such as Judgement at Nuremberg and the Huston helmed The Misfits) the Clift of the 1960s was certainly no longer the bright young star who had appeared alongside John Wayne in Red River or Elizabeth Taylor in A Place in the Sun. Huston, for reasons known only to himself, bullied and humiliated Clift on the set of Freud, with the actor frequently having to rely on cue cards to remember his lines (a situation made all the more difficult by the constant and incessant re-writes).

Thankfully, all of that on-set tension and barely controlled chaos doesn’t make itself apparent when watching Freud, where the story and performances manage to gel into a handsomely crafted, and at times visually striking, biopic. As mentioned, the focus of the film is on Freud’s journey from junior doctor to radical thinker and pioneer. He begins under the tutelage of Professor Meynert (Eric Portman) who works under the widely held consensus that all physical aliments must have a physical cause. Freud’s belief that the mind could be behind what ostensibly appears to be physical conditions eventually leads him to part ways from Meynert and pursue his own investigations. Though an acquaintance with Dr. Joseph Breuer (Larry Parks) Freud comes into contact with Cecily Koertner (Susanna York), a young woman with an assortment of mental and physical illnesses. Treating Cecily though the use of hypnosis to reach the unconscious mind,  Freud slowly begins to make the psychological deductions that would go on to shake the Western world.

At the time of Freud’s production, the 19th century psychoanalyst’s discoveries were still all the rage (they are held in slightly less regard today) meaning that Huston’s film is very much a hagiography, were the audience are allowed to watch a genius slowly emerge into the light. Huston also throws out any strict adherence to fact in his film – the cases that Freud takes on are amalgamations of real ones, consolidated into a few fictional characters for the sake of clarity and ease.

Not that Freud’s rather one sided viewpoint and ‘hollywoodisation’ of a real story work against the film. Quiet the opposite in fact. Huston cleverly ensures that the central case (what is causing Cecily’s physical and mental problems?) is infused with mystery, with the structure of the film more often than not resembling a detective story. While Freud is long at more than 140 minutes, it never feels like a slog, with pace, detail and mystery cleverly deployed throughout to ensure that the audience’s interest never wanes.

Huston also deploys some admirable visual flourishes, never more so than in the film’s handful of dream sequences, that, with their distorted visuals and disturbing, cold surrealism recall the work of none other than David Lynch. Outside of that, Huston (working in conjunction with master DP Douglas Slocombe) shoots Freud in austere black and white, capturing the drama through slow, controlled camera moves and a judicious use of close ups.

While Huston’s work is admirable on Freud, it is Montgomery Clift’s performance that holds it all together. Exhibiting a quietly determined emotional intensity, he delivers a committed and beautifully subtle performance that captures the depths of both of Freud’s doubts and his dawning, earth shattering conclusions. Always the most natural and understated of the Method acting gods that emerged in the early 50s, here Clift shows that, despite his deep personal problems, he was sill capable of remarkable work. It is a crying shame that Freud turned out to be his penultimate film; dying only a few years later at the age of 46, it would have been fascinating to see what Clift would have brought to the Hollywood New Wave and beyond. His work here is admirably supported by a great turns from both Susanna York (in one of her first screen performances in a role that was originally destined for Marilyn Monroe) and Eric Portman as Freud’s arrogant and ignorant professor.

Slow and serious, yet engaging and stimulating, Freud is a film that exhibits an enormous amount of respect for its subject, casting the titular psychoanalyst’s journey of discovery almost as a metaphysical quest that sought to explore and explain the darkness within us all. Beautifully shot and powerfully performed, it ends on an almost downbeat note that gives balance to the triumph that the audience knows Freud has achieved. It may not be very well known (surprising, giving the pedigree behind it) but Freud is certainly a handsome, unsentimental and diligent Hollywood biopic that is well worth your time, especially if the subject matter appeals.

Film:

Freud is being released by Powerhouse films on their Indicator Label. The version of the film on the disc was restored in 2K by Universal. For the most part it looks fantastic, with rich contrast and fine detail. There are some instances of print damage here and there, however. The original mono audio, which has also been restored, is clear and legible. Overall this is a decent but not mind-blowing AV presentation.

As ever, Indicator provide a series of interesting contextual extras for the film. Arguably the highlight here is Let There Be Light, the aforementioned film on war veterans which Huston directed in the 40s. Suppressed by the US Government until the early 80s, it is an eye-opening and humane look at the American veterans of WW2. Despite some bad sound (the one on one interviews in the early part of the film are particularly hard to hear) this is a stylishly shot and at times fascinating look at war psychosis, and, given its connection to Freud, a valuable and greatly appreciated addition to the disc.

Next up is a 75 minute audio interview with Susanna York, that was recorded for the Guardian Lecture series at the BFI in the 1980s. This offers a wide discussion of her career (including Freud) and opens up to the audience for questions in the final part. The audio plays out over the first 75 minutes of the Freud, after which the film begins to play normally.

Indicator also include a short, eleven minute radio interview with Huston and Montgomery Clift, recorded just before Freud’s release. The lion’s share of the interview is devoted to Huston, who discusses his work on the film. The audio plays out over a black screen.

The last substantial extra is a half hour interview with critic Matthew Sweet, who offers a lively dissection and analysis of Freud. This is a great watch and highly recommended. 

The disc is rounded out with an original trailer, a Trailer from Hell Commentary, and a huge image gallery containing over 90 archival and promotional images.

Indicator also include one of their brilliant booklets. This contains an essay on Freud from critic John Bleasdale, as well as three pieces of writing from Huston himself. The first is an essay that Huston wrote on Freud for the film’s press materials, where the second is an extract from his autobiography, where he discusses working with Jean-Paul Sartre on the script and the difficulties that arose. Also taken from Huston’s autobiography is a short extract on Let There Be Light. Indicator also include a selection of contemporary critical responses.

Disc/Extras: