Altered States (1980)
I first saw Ken Russell’s Altered States as a fan of horror films when I was far too young to comprehend existentialism, neuroscience and the myriad of psychological disorders that are currently cataloged in the DSM-V. It was in the horror section of the local video store, and to me, the synopsis somehow made it seem like a crossbreed of Frankenstein and An American Werewolf in London. I was taken with the idea that a scientist decides, right from page one, to conduct experiments on himself rather than a volunteer or a buried corpse. In fact, I didn’t realize that maybe it had planted a seed in me. My favorite kinds of conversations are the ones featured here when a group of doctors go out to dinner.
Still, when the closing credits began to roll during that first viewing, I wasn’t quite sure what I had just seen. That’s probably most people’s first experience. Despite not being aware of psychedelics at that age, I came to the conclusion that it was not a movie I grasped entirely but still found some pleasures throughout. In a way, it was akin to my first experience with 2001: A Space Odyssey. My reviews of both films as a teenager probably didn’t go beyond a dismissal of “Maybe I have to take acid to enjoy these experiences or even have a clue what they’re trying to say.”
My decision to indulge in any form of psychedelics has yet to occur. After my father had died and I suffered a severe bout of depression, I did a lot of reading on neuroscience which sparked my interest in psychology in addition to trying to help myself cope with one of the most difficult times of my life. It was during my mid-20s that I revisited Altered States. There’s a scene, post-coital climax between William Hurt and Blair Brown, when our protagonist reveals to his partner that he lost his father at a young age which in turn had a profound effect on him and his belief in a higher power. My 2nd viewing of Altered States therefore had a profound effect on me particularly once I realized it was about the futile search for tangible meaning. I personally adopt the randomness of the chaos theory, remaining skeptical about a magnificent being that is responsible for everything.
In Altered States we meet Eddie Jessup, an atheistic scientist experimenting with isolation tanks, hallucinatory concoctions and an attempt to regress to a more primal state of existence, namely, Eddie Jessup wants to connect with and externalize his inner caveman. (Similar to shrieks of rage that Clive Owen belted out in the film Closer). Eddie thinks that hidden within our DNA are the past experiences of our ancestors and that we could reconnect with those ancestors on a spiritual plane somehow. This serves as the impetus behind the narrative.
Many might find the film to take its subject matter less seriously than I seem to. Jessup’s quest is fueled by mania to some extent, but his convictions are compelling particularly as visual stimuli for the viewer thanks to Russell’s vibrant imagination. There is a sequence we are subjected to later in the film, in which Jessup manifests into an ape-like creature, fueled by impulse, instinct, and lacking all rational thought. Up until that instance, the film is anything but conventional, particularly with its acid-fueled digressions that resemble the type of imagery we would come to expect from a filmmaker like Ken Russell.
However, the source material derives from a novel by Paddy Chayefsky, one that I’ve since read twice and for the most part, it is a faithful adaptation. I imagine Chayefsky’s quibbles resulted from Russell’s sensibilities to go-for-broke when it came to immersing its audience into a nightmare at times. Novelist and director did not get along well according to many. I have yet to delve into John C. Lilly’s books that inspired Chayefsky in the first place, but I’m not sure if there are mentions of the type of horrific imagery contained in Russell’s film in Lilly’s research.
Having gone through floatation therapy myself, there is no hint of hallucination that occurs during the experience of lying in a enclosed tank of salt water. It’s more of a centering calm that ensues. A feeling of tranquility, accompanied by the occasional flashes of color or streams of visual aura that one might get when slowly drifting off to sleep. It was as close to a meditative state that I can recall having. I was hoping I would emerge as an ape-man too, but alas, floatation therapy probably won’t cause the kind of sensations that Jessup goes through. Granted, he is also experimenting with mushrooms, psychedelics and other various mind-altering substances. Which brings us to the horror and apprehension this film stirs up.
There’s also this strange parallel between having revisited this film and The Last Temptation of Christ within the same week. The name Jessup is kind of close to a certain savior that is the subject of Scorsese’s spiritual summation made year later. But most strikingly is the search for higher truth and the essence of “self.” Think of the moment when Jessup visits Mexico and swallows his own blood, among other ingredients in the soup that the natives there have prepared. Many hallucinations have a rhythm and a jagged pulse to the way they’re edited, but there’s a moment of stark patience from Russell when he presents two figures, a man and a woman, on the beach as they slowly begin to dissolve into grains of sand.
My feelings surrounding that moment are very positive despite the implication that the love between these two people is vulnerable due to Jessup’s self-obsession. There’s also this quest for a collective unconscious that slowly begins to envelope Jessup’s wife and colleagues once they witness a phenomenon that cannot be explained through scientific reasoning. This quest consumes me as well, for I feel at my most spiritual when taking in various art forms in hopes of a connection to something outside of myself.
The ending is a puzzlement that I embrace with open arms. Jessup begins to pound his transformation out of him, almost as an antithesis to what Neo experiences at the end of The Matrix. Instead of being tormented by the thought of nothingness and aloneness, Jessup realizes that his love for his wife and her love for him are what truly fuels him. Unconditional love gives life meaning, purpose and solace. Or at the very least, she too can be a part of his imperfect journey. For some, I imagine it does play as a “love conquers all” sentiment, but it doesn’t feel forced. It’s a bit refreshing since I imagine the Kubrick version of this story would be very different. Who are we? Are we all one? What does it all mean? How did we evolve, and did God or a symbol we learned to call “God” play a role in what human beings became? A lot of science fiction and horror films ask thought-provoking questions in ways that may not be pleasurable, but rewarding in their complexity.
Ken Russell’s Altered States somehow feels even more vital today for me. Listening to Jessup talk about his father’s untimely death, I couldn’t help but feel a strong connection to a character in a way that does feel “spiritual” somehow. In fact, one of the last things my father said to me before he could no longer speak, was “I’m afraid.” He was man enough to admit fear in the face of death, to his own flesh and blood, which he would’ve never done before. Jessup’s father simply yells out, as he’s dying, the word “terrible.” Many films portray death as this transition towards light, rather than an unfathomable void. Altered States stares straight into the void at certain moments, while finding serenity in others. There are billions of neurons in the human brain and innumerable cells that can turn into cancer or help keep us alive. The biggest fear I have at this point in my life is small talk that doesn’t involve questions or ideas about why we’re all in this beautiful mess in the first place.
Altered States dares to provoke a lot from its viewer, to accept the blinding horror within as well as a shimmering light of love, waiting for us on the outside at a time when we don’t believe it’s worth a damn. Whether you believe in nothingness or simply don’t take the time to explore the possibilities that our minds are capable of, Altered States will ignite some kind of fire that keeps the collective unconscious warm and the capacity for human inquiry ablaze. It’s one of the very best films that questions why we’re here and doesn’t once choose to come up with an answer.
