Much like most Ken Russell works, Altered States carries a quirky, offbeat edge. Russell had already solidified his bold artistic sensibilities with Tommy and The Devils, but this film—released 45 years ago today—pushes the boundaries of sensory overload. Acclaimed screenwriter and novelist Paddy Chayefsky (best known for Network and The Hospital) crafted a compelling script based on his surreal 1978 novel, itself inspired by neuroscientist John Cunningham Lilly’s research on sensory deprivation tanks and. As a result, both Chayefsky’s novel and script have a firm scientific foundation and pose layered philosophical questions about altered states of consciousness.
The contrast between Chayefsky’s grounded narrative and Russell’s over-the-top interpretation feels immediate. [Original missing subject] is verbose and fixated on precision, while Russell’s Altered States is a 100-minute hellish rollercoaster—one that constantly bombards you with audiovisual excess. What’s more, Chayefsky’s focus is the sensory deprivation tank itself, which eliminates all external stimulation for psychopathologist Eddie Jessup (William Hurt) and drives him toward drug-fueled scientific discovery. Jessup’s journey explores the limits of hubris through hard sci-fi and seeks meaning amid existential absurdity. Chayefsky envisioned the adaptation in the same vein, hoping his complex script would lead to a nuanced film.
Enter Russell, who quickly traded dense analysis for sensational imagery and toned down the script’s scientific core in favor of something more surreal. Chayefsky, whose successful career had granted him full creative control, couldn’t reach a compromise with the director, sparking an ugly feud between two artistic forces. After three weeks of rehearsal, Chayefsky left production and tried to replace Russell when the director refused to entertain his constant meddling. Many of Chayefsky’s criticisms boiled down to nitpicking: he disliked certain aesthetic choices (like the color of the sensory deprivation tank) and Russell’s apparent irreverence toward the source material.
That said, Chayefsky wasn’t wrong about Altered States’ obvious flaws. Given Russell’s stylistic focus on abstractions, many of the film’s nuances were lost—especially in dialogue. When Jessup rambles about technical jargon like gene regression and connected consciousness, we don’t care to parse it; Russell’s vision works better as a fluid fantasy. Translating the script’s hallucinatory passages to the big screen was also a challenge: how do we depict “the first particle of matter being created” in an interesting, accessible way? Instead of meeting halfway, the pair never saw eye to eye—so much so that Chayefsky used a pseudonym instead of taking credit for the screenplay.
Russell’s Altered States abandons the novel’s practicality from the start. Chayefsky’s isolation tank is close to real-life versions: sleek, compact, lined with material that creates darkness. In stark contrast, Russell places Jessup in a brightly lit, transparent glass tank where our protagonist floats hooked to haphazardly placed electrodes.
Similarly, Chayefsky imagines Jessup’s ceremonial drug trip (ingesting the primordial flower) as a dream state bursting with frenetic de-evolution images. Cinematographer Jordan Cronenweth captures this chaos with smoky backdrops and double exposures—showing a lizard morphing into a woman and two sand-swept figures disintegrating into sphinx-like stone. Subsequent hallucinations are full of religious and sexual symbolism, with a nightmarish apocalyptic landscape set to John Corigliano’s haunting score. It’s strangely beautiful to watch (especially in ), even if these visions are far from the script’s empirical take on dream states.
While Chayefsky’s thorough, metaphysical text is praiseworthy, it’s not suited for a faithful adaptation. Russell’s instincts are unapologetically over-the-top—he forgoes subtlety to embrace baroque sensibilities. But this excess gives Altered States the push to stand out as a visceral cinematic experience. Dick Smith’s brilliant prosthetics create chilling body horror when Jessup’s flesh contorts and devolves into an ape-like creature with no self-awareness or memories. Hurt’s committed performance does heavy lifting here: his Jessup dives into the absurd premise with full conviction, mad enough to explore the collective unconscious even when his X-rays look more simian than human.
None of these events are treated with irony; Russell frames Jessup’s relationship with Emily (Blair Brown) as a sincere counter to human folly. As cliché as it sounds, the film suggests only love and radical empathy can snap a devolved brain out of evolutionary stupor and ground unchecked ambition. Jessup’s search for truth starts as genuine curiosity about the human condition but quickly consumes his judgment and sanity. Ultimately, Russell’s Altered States is about the impermanence of relationships—and how easy it is to lose sight of what matters when transfixed by psychedelia’s garish assault.