J Paul Johnson
Somehow, it’s been a full 45 years since I’d seen Altered States. I recall distinctly the impression it made on me when I saw it in the theater on its 1980 release: its wild, dizzying visuals depicting the protagonist’s scientific explorations; its Jekyll-and-Hyde narrative, modernized its late-twentieth century milieu; its surprising turn of events towards full-on body horror; and its memorably feverish lead performance from a then-unknown William Hurt, who would soon channel his fixations into some of the decade’s most memorable characterizations. Surely Altered States deserved a little love in those 45 years between its release and a newly restored 4K two-disc special edition courtesy of The Criterion Collection. But at least until now, its legacy has been at best, like its reviews, mixed.
The late 1970s gave birth to a number of heady science fiction films, and the early 1980s saw something of a second renaissance for the genre. Altered States got lost a bit in the shuffle among genre greats like Close Encounters of the Third Kind, Invasion of the Body Snatchers, Alien, E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial, Blade Runner, Tron, and The Thing. And frankly, its flaws prevent it from first-tier sci-fi status. That said, Altered States offers its own distinct pleasures, whipsawing between subgenres with all the alacrity of an obsessive scientist gone mad experimenting on his own body.
Which is, of course, what Altered States is all about. William Hurt plays Edward Jessup, a tenured professor of psychopathology at Harvard studying schizophrenia. His work with a sensory deprivation flotation tank to chart his experiments and results leads him to hypothesize that “our other states of consciousness are as real as our waking states.” Alongside him are his fellow researchers, the obedient Arthur Rosenberg (Bob Balaban) and the hesitant Mason Parrish (Charles Haid). and his ex-wife, Emily (Blair Brown), an equally brilliant social anthropologist with whom Jessup is just beginning a reconciliation.
Jessup’s experiments begin as benign, but soon he becomes convinced that he can unlock aspects of the human condition that have lain dormant since prehistory: in a sense, he can manifest humanity’s own evolution. What could go wrong? Parrish, to his credit, sees the danger in Jessup’s increasingly risky experiments, but Jessup remains undeterred, seeking out the Mexican Hinchi tribe to gain access to their sacred mushrooms and shrubs, known as the “primordial flower” for their incredible power. One wild trip after another has Jessup increasingly, feverishly determined to go further and further in search of the unknown. Where it will take him is anyone’s guess.
At first, Jessup’s trips are psychedelic, represented by director Ken Russell and effects designer Brian Ferren’s crackling montages. But soon the results become more physical once Jessup returns home and ingests the Hinchi hallucinogen while Rosenberg and Parrish monitor him in his deprivation tank. One such trip finds Jessup incoherent and bloodied, his subsequent X-rays looking decidedly simian; nothing, though, deters Jessup, and the next stage of his experiment finds him literally, physically, devolving into a feral caveman, a 20th-century Mr. Hyde.
Chayefsky’s script, adapted from his own novel based on John C. Lilly’s real-life experiments with hallucinogens and deprivation, is through the first two acts perfectly on point. Jessup’s character is well developed as a single-minded intellect whose smarts don’t allow him to process others’ emotions or cautions; his colleagues’ contrasting perspectives provide both characterization and necessary exposition; and Chayefsky’s Emily is a strong and assertive foil to Jessup whose own academic training as an anthropologist lends her and the narrative a thematic complexity.
Chayefsky, though, was so famously dissatisfied with Russell’s direction he took his own name off the project. Russell, to his thinking, had little interest in adapting Chayefsky’s novel faithfully and was far more engaged by the possibilities in the story’s hallucinatory and body-horror-influenced special effects. Both men were, in a sense, right: Altered States would have little appeal without Russell and Ferren’s visual panache, but often those overwhelm the film’s academically-oriented narrative. The film’s almost-spectacular conclusion feels like a compromise, going not for broke but for the most standard, clichéd, ameliorative ending imaginable.
Even if Altered States never quite coheres, it’s nonetheless an invigorating and delightful watch, and certainly not just for its (dated, yes, but still-impressive) visuals. Its cast is great and features both a young Drew Barrymore and a little-less-young John Larroquette in small roles alongside stalwarts Haid and Balaban. Brown is so good one wonders why her career wasn’t full of lead roles that could capture her intelligence and resilience. And of course, William Hurt, never before seen on the big screen, was the film’s real find.
Juilliard-trained, Hurt had leading-man looks but with the slightly off-kilter perspective that suggested not all was entirely well under the neatly-groomed and coiffed surface. Here he’s the brilliant researcher consumed by the promise of his own experimentation, reckless in his disregard for scientific ethics and personal relationships. Altered States led to more roles in which Hurt could channel his fervent fixations, especially in similarly high-minded-but-still-commercial vehicles like Body Heat (1981), Kiss of the Spider Woman (1985), and Children of a Lesser God (1986), piling up Oscar nominations (and a win for Kiss) as well as big hits like The Big Chill (1983), Broadcast News (1987), and The Accidental Tourist (1988). The 1980s made for a remarkable debut decade, one that would be the envy of any actor, even if Hurt’s roles eventually settled mostly into supporting roles, television dramas, and MCU fare.
Criterion’s 4K presentation of Altered States was created from the original 35mm camera negative and supervised by Jeff Cronenweth, son of the film’s original DP Jordan Cronenweth. It looks fantastic, more so in the sundry dialogue scenes even than in the special effects sequences. In fact, this new remaster benefits from the juxtaposition of the two: the settings range from dingy laps and cluttered apartments to the rugged terrain of Mexico’s mountains and the outer—or should I say inner—reaches of the mind. I can’t imagine with any confidence what Jessup’s hallucinations might be like, but this 4K presentation of Altered States is as cinematic an experience as one could want.
The film’s audio, presented in 2.0 surround, is equally precise, whether in dialogue, effects, or classical composer John Corigliano’s score. Criterion presents the 4K UHD restoration of the film, alongside the commentary track, on disc; a second Blu-ray disc presents the film with the commentary and special features.
Special Features
Audio Commentary: In this newly commissioned commentary track, film historian Samm Deighan, author of books on European arthouse cinema and Fritz Lang’s M. examines Altered States in several contexts: writer Paddy Chayefsky’s novel, his adapting it for the screen, the direction and special effects of Ken Russell, and, later, the film’s casting and performance, especially Hurt in his breakout role. Deighan’s commentary only rarely connects directly to the events and images onscreen but nonetheless provides fulsome contexts for the film. Kudos to Criterion for commissioning new content from an expert for this new release.
Ken Russell: In this 26-minute interview from 1980, talk show host Paul Ryan queries the director on his prior work and training, the adaptation and production of Altered States, and several technical details, such as recording dialogue.
William Hurt: Recorded in 2009, this seven-minute interview features the actor—now among Hollywood’s elite, an Oscar, BAFTA, and Cannes-winner for Best Actor—reminiscing on his work with Chayefsky and Russell as well as expounding on the details of his craft.
Brian Ferren: This newly commissioned 26-minute interview features the film’s visual effects designer reflecting on his work on Altered States, with several of the film’s key scenes presented for a detailed examination. This, like the other featurettes, includes no subtitles for the Deaf and hard of hearing that I could toggle on. I had hoped, following last month’s release of Born in Flames and its inclusion of SDH for a director-interview featurette there, that Criterion is changing policy in this regard, as it traditionally provided SDH for only non-English language supplements. However, none can be found here on this special edition of Altered States, even for newly commissioned material, much to my—and I’m sure others’—chagrin.
Also included in is a trailer for the film and, in the two-disc clear jewel case, a 12-page full-color foldout booklet featuring disc and remaster production notes, cast and crew credits, and an excellent primer by Jessica Kiang, “Visions and Divisions,” charting the tensions between Russell and Chayefsky.
There’s no getting around the fact that Altered States is a flawed film, but it’s also infinitely fascinating, a psychedelic odyssey into the mind that connects several of the era’s most idiosyncratic talents in Russell, Chayefsky, and Hurt. Its effects are uneven, but at least occasionally mind-blowing, and the film’s scientist-gone-mad trope remains, after centuries, infinitely viable. Even if no one will likely ever categorize Altered States as the equal of Kubrick or Tarkovsky, Criterion’s packaging, collecting together both archival and newly commissioned material, presents the film in detailed contexts that make the case for its inclusion in the Collection alongside cinema’s greatest science fictions.
