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Such a frustrating disappointment

It's no definitive masterpiece but it's damn close.

I don't have all the words right now but this film is a work of art.

A movie that not only functions as a solid scarefest but a razor-sharp satire.

When a seductive female (Gloria Grahame) picks up a hitchhiker (John Kerr) on his way back to a sanitarium where he is seeking help in dealing with the death of his mother, he can barely get a word in edgewise from the overly chatty sex kitten. He doesn't mind conversation, we learn, as long as something important is being discussed. Grahame can chatter like a flock of birds on a shrubbery, but nothing important is really coming out. It's obvious she is lonely, and ironically, is married to one of the sanitarium's top doctors (Richard Widmark) who has a special contract with the head (Charles Boyer) that long-time business manager (Lillian Gish) is unaware of. Widmark seems to have no time for his wife, spending quality time with the pretty sanitarium employee (Lauren Bacall), first platonically, then as Grahame gets more grasping , more romantically.Under the direction of MGM musical master Vincent Minnelli, this over-the-top melodrama is nearly as bad as Minnelli's follow-up to "The Bad and the Beautiful", a wretched soap opera called "Two Weeks in Another Town". Everybody seems to be directed to over-emote and ham it up completely, and pretty much everyone with the exception of Widmark, Bacall and Boyer chew their script as if it was sirloin. I'm sure when Mel Brooks saw this movie, he was inspired by its obsession with game room drapes by utilizing a reference in "High Anxiety" for the hilarious Cloris Leachman. Yes indeed, this planet of the drapes is indeed about drapes, where the ability to choose their own drapes for the patients becomes a battling ground that may not be beneficial to them or the staff who can be as nutty as whom they are trying to help.There is a power obsessed nurse (Olive Carey), a domineering board member ("Bewitched's" Mabel Albertson), a sensitive female patient (Susan Strasberg) who agrees to go out with Kerr but won't commit as to when, the alcoholic Oscar Levant, and assorted others who have no real impact on the story other than to just be part of the population. Veteran actress Gish gives perhaps her most melodramatic performance as the domineering financial wizard who is in need of some therapy herself, upset when Widmark confronts her late at night over her interference in the plans for the drapes, yet doesn't want him to leave simply out of her desperate loneliness. As for Grahame, she's not really a bad girl here, but along with her clinging performance, that pouty lip and nasal voice make you aware that her character is a candidate for a suicide attempt. When husband Widmark and Bacall finally do kiss, it's hard to root for the wife, because she's so shrill and needy, and Bacall seems to have it all together. Boyer has little to do but to try and keep Gish calm, and Levant is completely wasted (in more ways than one) in what is essentially a cameo. This is one of those over-the-top colorful melodramas that is a hoot to watch, but overall will have you shaking your head. Any film that makes "Valley of the Dolls" seem calm in comparison gets a star for sheer audacity, but that does not make it become a good film.

Like a roadside accident, it's difficult to turn away from this bizarre melodrama. Seriously, what were they smoking? The whole movie is like a Saturday Night Live skit that never ends. How was it possible for these actors and actresses to go onto the set each day without cracking up about the absurdity of this story? I suppose it was a different culture back then, but how did they not break down in laughter acting these parts? Or maybe they did. Everything is so completely over the top, the high pitched emotional performances, the strange sets and paintings on the walls, the saturated color and dramatic lighting. It's almost like this movie is taking place in a weird little world far away from the edge of the universe. My greatest disappointment is that the issue of the drapes was never resolved. Really a huge bummer, and it's probably what kept this movie from becoming an enormous hit.

Between the stilted family trauma given as back story and the spoiled brats in Richard Widmark's rat pack, it's no wonder that the shrinks sling drugs at these whiners today. Perhaps this form of psychotherapy (considered the top drawer treatment of the era) should be resurrected, maybe the 'family unit' scenario is called for in this world of today where innocence has been totally lost. Now that neurosis (at least) is accepted in our society, the problems of these people seem mildly absurd. Perhaps it's a farce and I was just too dense to get it. Interesting dynamic between the shrink and his wife: in 2014 she'd get lawyered up and take him for everything he's worth. Bacall is sultry and beautiful as always. It's amazing that she could do a movie like this, as Bogart, if he wasn't already deceased, had to be very very ill.

Very disappointing film with Charles Boyer terribly miscast as a therapist in an institution who has lost his self-respect.We know that there are debates regarding how much autonomy patients should have in these places. The main thrust of the film is about hanging up draperies. I haven't heard that term since the woman portraying Mamie Eisenhower in the fabulous "Backstairs at The White House" correcting the maid for using the term drapes instead of draperies.Richard Widmark, as the other therapist, is good here but the material, excuse the pun, does him in as well in a poor script. Gloria Grahame, as his frustrated, neglected wife, is also good.The film does show that both therapists need help for their own problems. The real star here is Lillian Gish, as the neglected, devoted worker trying her very best to assert herself. Gish portrays an anxious spinster who is really unable to cope.This is certainly not "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest."