Since 1962, John Huston's portrait of pioneering Austrian psychoanalyst Sigmund Freud has been overshadowed by its behind-the-scenes difficulties and poor theatrical performance. Consequently, the strengths of the film, and the warm critical reception it engendered, have gotten lost.
At the time, Montgomery Clift's health was rapidly declining. He and Huston, who had worked productively on 1960s The Misfits—another troubled production—clashed from start to finish. Even if he doesn't resemble Freud, though, Clift gives a riveting performance.
Instead of a cradle-to-grave biography, the director focuses on Freud's journey into the unconscious as a means to alleviate trauma. From 1885 to 1890, that entailed hypnotism, which would give way to talk therapy as a route towards uncovering the root causes of repression. In the process, Freud takes the maxim "physician, heal thyself" to heart as he attempts to reconcile grievances against his parents, including his mother (a very good Rosalie Crutchley).
Though his wife (nicely played by Susan Kohner, Imitation of Life) provides emotional support, Freud meets resistance from colleagues, notably surrogate fathers Dr. Meynert (Eric Portman) and Dr. Joseph Breuer (Larry Parks), who distance themselves when his work takes a more controversial direction.
Huston illustrates Freud's fears through disturbing dreams shot in high-contrast black and white by Douglas Slocombe (Bryan Forbes' The L-Shaped Room). Though original screenwriter Jean-Paul Sartre proposed The Misfits' Marilyn Monroe for the part of Cecily, a particularly challenging patient, Huston opted for 20-year-old Susannah York.
In his 1980 memoir, An Open Book, he claims he found her almost as difficult to work with as Clift (seven years later, she would earn an Oscar nomination for Sydney Pollack's harrowing They Shoot Horses, Don't They?). Like the film's star, though, she rises to the occasion, even as her performance leans towards the overheated.
David McCallum (The Man from U.N.C.L.E.) also makes a vivid impression as a living embodiment of Freud's Oedipus complex.
A neophyte when it comes to psychiatry, Huston sought the finest intellects he could find for the script, starting with Sartre, an avowed anti-Freudian. It was his first mistake, since the prickly philosopher's tome, later published as a 576-page book, would have resulted in a five-hour film. Even after he took a second pass, it was too long, so Huston brought in Wolfgang Reinhardt and Charles Kaufman. After they whittled things down to a workable size, Sartre refused to have anything to do with it, though much of his work made it into the finished film.
Nonetheless, the studio balked at the film's length, leading to significant cuts. This version restores 20 minutes excised from the theatrical release. In his memoir, Huston would revisit Freud, concluding that Clift "gives quite an extraordinary performance." Tim Lucas goes even further in his enthusiastic commentary track, declaring it "a masterpiece." That may be a bit of an oversell, but it's certainly a film of considerable artistic and intellectual merit—and deserves recognition as something other than a production nightmare. Highly recommended for students of psychology.