
Director: Adrian Lyne
Screenplay: Bruce Joel Rubin
Cast: Tim Robbins, Elizabeth Peña, Danny Aiello, Matt Craven, Pruitt Taylor Vince, Jason Alexander
Running time: 113 minutes
Year: 1990
Certificate: 15
As someone who watches a LOT of films I’m always on the lookout to fill gaps in my cinematic knowledge – one such gap is 1990’s Jacob’s Ladder, written by Bruce Joel Rubin and directed by Adrian Lyne who, up to that point, had been known for the likes of Flashdance and steamy thrillers Fatal Attraction and 9 ½ Weeks. Jacob’s Ladder, in contrast to those films, has a reputation as a surrealist, psychological horror movie; having finally seen it thanks to this 4K release from StudioCanal, I can say that, yes, it is exactly that – but it’s also a lot more. Jacob’s Ladder is a film which almost transcends genre and is a wholly unique piece of allegorical art.

The film opens during the Vietnam war where we’re introduced to Jacob, a bookish young man who is serving alongside his platoon. While on down time, they suddenly begin to exhibit inexplicable seizures and strange behaviour before falling victim to a surprise attack which leaves Jacob stabbed by a bayonet. Months later, Jacob has returned home experiencing PTSD. As he begins to have bizarre hallucinations he begins to question what happened to him and his Platoon in Vietnam and uncovers a web of intrigue that will lead him down a path which will change him forever.
Describing the plot of Jacob’s Ladder is a tricky endeavour as you will undoubtedly find yourself dipping into spoiler territory. This is a film without a straightforward story, where the viewer is constantly questioning the narrative of what they are watching as it skips forward in time and, seemingly in some instances, in reality. The core of the plot revolves around Jacob, played soft spokenly by a fantastic Tim Robbins, a man whose life feels like it’s literally falling apart. The script from Rubin tells this tale in a brilliantly nonlinear fashion as we juxtapose the hell Jacob faced in Vietnam alongside his life back in New York, separated from his wife and now living with his girlfriend (Peña) Jacob struggles not only with PTSD, but also with guilt and trauma over the death of his young son (a surprising early career turn from a very young Macaulay Culkin) and the resulting separation from his wife.

Lyne shoots what is, at its core, a conspiracy thriller, with a fabulous sense of surreality. The disjointed narrative is both captivating and unsettling, jumping between Jacob’s present, where he is plagued by hallucinations of bizarrely deformed people, stalking him through his daily life, alongside flashbacks to some intense war scenes. It defies the viewer to guess what’s coming next, being a family drama, a war film and, at times, something that edges close to cosmic horror. This is all underpinned with some brilliant practical effects, both on the horrors that Jacob witnesses in NAM and those he’s seeing back home. In some ways the intensity of the camera in many of these scenes, as well as the way the visuals play with reality, evokes Andrzej Zulawski’s Possession. It’s frequently visually remarkable and utterly disconcerting.
Accompanying the fantastic central performance from Robbins is Elizabeth Peña as Jacobs girlfriend Jezzie, a woman he works with at the post office and who is one of the more complex supporting characters. Simultaneously both loving and dismissive of Jacob, she flips from being one moment possessive and then openly promiscuous, seemingly another anomaly in a narrative full of very purposeful anomaly’s. As well as Peña, we also get a great supporting cast featuring the likes of Ving Rhames, Eric La Salle, Jason Alexander and Danny Aiello.

The ending of the film is, unfortunately, one of those parts of cinema history that has become fairly well known in the age of the internet, with a twist that is, in hindsight, telegraphed early in the plot. But that doesn’t make it any less impactful, particularly in how it reframes the narrative as a whole and almost demands a rewatch to recontexualise a lot of the stranger, more isolated scenes in the film. Jacob’s Ladder is a difficult movie to watch but it stands alone in the cinematic pantheon and deserves a viewing from any cinephile worth their weight.
Bonus Features
- On the rungs of…Jacob’s Ladder – a retrospective featurette with Lyne, Rubin and Robbins looking back at the film (NEW, 28 mins)
- Trailer 2025
As with many older films, the 4K process really helps the cinematography of Jacob’s Ladder pop, from the gorgeous, grainy picture, to the fabulous HDR grading, the juxtaposition of the brighter Nam scenes alongside the griminess of New York really comes together to complement Adrian Lyne’s superb hallucinatory style.
Unfortunately the rest of the disc is not quite as great a celebration of the film. The new short documentary included is genuinely insightful with some great retrospective interviews with Robbins, Lyne and Rubin, but aside from that you only get a trailer. Set alongside the upcoming release from Lionsgate in the US which features this new documentary as well as a host of other legacy features from previous releases, this is another disappointing disc from StudioCanal.

It is a shame there aren’t more extras on this release. The Imprint Blu-ray was jam-packed – https://blueprintreview.co.uk/2023/04/jacobs-ladder-imprint/