After returning home from the Vietnam War, veteran Jacob Singer struggles to maintain his sanity. Plagued by hallucinations and flashbacks, Singer rapidly falls apart as the world and people around him morph and twist into disturbing images. His girlfriend, Jezzie, and ex-wife, Sarah, try to help, but to little avail. Even Singer's chiropractor friend, Louis, fails to reach him as he descends into madness.
Adrian Lyne's Vietnam-haunted psychological horror landed somewhere between nerve-shredding nightmare and self-indulgent art-film excess, depending on who you asked. Ebert and the New York Times found it viscerally frightening and genuinely moving, while detractors argued the surrealistic imagery eventually overwhelms any emotional investment. Retrospective reassessment has been kinder, though there's an ongoing debate about whether its shocks still land as hard in a post-Se7en world.
“reeling with turmoil and confusion, with feelings of sadness and despair”
Roger Ebert·Chicago Sun-Times
“slick, riveting, viscerally scary film about what in other hands would be a decidedly unsalable subject, namely death”
Janet Maslin·The New York Times
“ultimately flat on its surrealistic face, the victim of too many fake-art sequences”
Desson Thomson·The Washington Post
“Jacob's Ladder is so 'dark' it sucks Robbins right down with it. By the time Jacob is being strapped to a bed and wheeled down a hospital corridor strewn with bloody limbs, it's hard to care whether the Orwellian image is a hallucination or not. You just want out.”
Owen Gleiberman·Entertainment Weekly
“a bizarrely cohesive hybrid of war movie, character study, art film, and horror flick”
Slant Magazine
Drama, Mystery, Horror
After returning home from the Vietnam War, veteran Jacob Singer struggles to maintain his sanity. Plagued by hallucinations and flashbacks, Singer rapidly falls apart as the world and people around him morph and twist into disturbing images. His girlfriend, Jezzie, and ex-wife, Sarah, try to help, but to little avail. Even Singer's chiropractor friend, Louis, fails to reach him as he descends into madness.
Adrian Lyne's Vietnam-haunted psychological horror landed somewhere between nerve-shredding nightmare and self-indulgent art-film excess, depending on who you asked. Ebert and the New York Times found it viscerally frightening and genuinely moving, while detractors argued the surrealistic imagery eventually overwhelms any emotional investment. Retrospective reassessment has been kinder, though there's an ongoing debate about whether its shocks still land as hard in a post-Se7en world.
“reeling with turmoil and confusion, with feelings of sadness and despair”
Roger Ebert·Chicago Sun-Times
“slick, riveting, viscerally scary film about what in other hands would be a decidedly unsalable subject, namely death”
Janet Maslin·The New York Times
“ultimately flat on its surrealistic face, the victim of too many fake-art sequences”
Desson Thomson·The Washington Post
“Jacob's Ladder is so 'dark' it sucks Robbins right down with it. By the time Jacob is being strapped to a bed and wheeled down a hospital corridor strewn with bloody limbs, it's hard to care whether the Orwellian image is a hallucination or not. You just want out.”
Owen Gleiberman·Entertainment Weekly
“a bizarrely cohesive hybrid of war movie, character study, art film, and horror flick”
Slant Magazine
Drama, Mystery, Horror