The 1950s and 1960s saw the rise of psychological thrillers like Psycho (1960), where the character of Marion Crane's descent into madness contributed to the perpetuation of the 'madwoman in the attic' trope (a notion that female writers during the 19th century were confined to categorize their female characters as either the 'angel' or the 'monster'). However, throughout the late 20th century and continuing into the early 21st century, a gradual shift in the portrayal of female hysteria in film occurred, as filmmakers began to challenge traditional gender roles and present more nuanced depictions of mental health struggles. Directors like Jane Campion in The Piano (1993) and Lars Von Trier in Melancholia (2011) delved into the complexities of female characters facing mental health challenges without stripping them to mere stereotypes that catered to male audiences. These films offered a departure from earlier sensationalized portrayals, encouraging audiences to consider both the broader and psychological contexts of women's struggles. 

In this journal, I will be exploring seven films that to me, challenged the 'hysterical woman' trope by presenting more authentic and nuanced representations of women grappling with mental health issues. As the film industry continues to evolve, it plays a crucial role in shaping and challenging societal perceptions of female hysteria, contributing to a more empathetic and understanding discourse surrounding women's mental health in the cinematic landscape. 

Polanski's Repulsion (1965) is a landmark film that stands out for its nuanced approach to the portrayal of female hysteria. The film, starring Catherine Deneuve as the protagonist Carol, offers a complex and psychologically rich exploration of mental health, breaking away from the simplistic and sensationalized depictions of female hysteria prevalent at the time. 

Repulsion unfolds primarily from Carol's perspective, providing an intimate look into her deteriorating mental state. The film masterfully captures the subjectivity of her experience, letting the audience share in her disorientation. This approach humanizes Carol's character and invites viewers to empathize with her struggles. Polanski deliberately creates ambiguity surrounding Carol's mental state. The film makes it challenging to discern whether her experiences are rooted in reality, hallucination, or even a combination of both. It delves into the theme of sexual repression as a significant factor in Carol's psychological unraveling. Her aversion to intimacy and the discomfort she experiences with sexual desire contribute to the film's exploration of societal expectations and the consequences of suppressing one's sexuality. The use of surreal imagery, distorted perspectives, and disorienting soundscapes helps to externalize Carol's internal turmoil. The film's emphasis on visual and auditory elements allows for a more nuanced representation of her psychological distress, moving beyond simplistic portrayals prevalent in earlier depictions of female hysteria. 

Carol's descent into madness is contextualized within a broader examination of gender roles, isolation, and the impact of urban life. The film critiques the stifling environment that contributes to Carol's mental deterioration, adding depth to its overall exploration. By embracing ambiguity in such an expanding subject, Polanski challenges prevailing stereotypes, offering a more compassionate and thought-provoking exploration of the complexities of the female mind and body. 

Almodóvar's Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown visits the interiors and exteriors of the societal changes occurring in Spain during the late 1980s, offering a critique of traditional gender roles and expectations. By infusing his narrative with humor, vibrant aesthetics and complex, multi-dimensional characters, Almodóvar breaks away from the simplistic and stigmatizing characteristics of female hysteria. 

The film's comedic elements serve as a vehicle for exploring the absurdity of social norms and the pressure placed on women. The exaggerated and farcical situations the characters find themselves in highlight the absurdity of labeling female emotional expression as pathological. Multi-dimensional characters defy the stereotypical 'woman in distress,' and navigate their complex emotions without succumbing to the cliched portrayals. Pepa, the protagonist played by Carmen Maura, is not reduced to a character on a screen, but more a layered woman that showcases a range of emotions and reactions to the challenges she faces. She takes charge of her life, challenging the notion that a 'woman on the verge of a nervous breakdown' is passive, or helpless. The film subtly critiques the societal structures that contribute to the women's distress while empowering them to assert control over their narratives. The vibrant and visually stimulating aesthetics of the film contribute to its nuanced approach. Almodóvar's use of color, set design, and costume enhances the film's emotional depth while simultaneously challenging the bleak and somber visual palette often associated with women on the verge of nervous breakdowns. 

Pedro Almodóvar crafts a narrative that challenges stereotypes and breaks boundaries that offer a more authentic exploration of women navigating inner turmoil. The film's enduring impact lies in its ability to subvert expectations, providing audiences with a fresh perspective on the complexities of female emotions and mental well-being. 

Safe, a film portraying the complexities of Julianne Moore's 'Carol' and the societal expectations placed upon her, is another great example of female hysteria on screen. The external influence's on one's psyche is skillfully navigated, as Carol falls ill to an environmental illness, which I found as some kind of euphemism for the relentless standards women are forced to follow. 

Julianne Moore lives a "safe" life with her wealthy husband until she begins to feel unwell, attributing her symptoms to an environmental illness. Despite skepticism from the men in her life, Carol finds validation among a group of like-minded individuals. While the illness could be interpreted as depression, director Todd Haynes avoids labeling Carol's condition, leaving it open to interpretation. From the start, the film captivates with its eerie atmosphere and haunting score, delving into themes of profound loneliness and alienation. Carol's pursuit of solitude is palpable throughout, even in intimate moments with her husband. The film is masterfully crafted and unfolds like a mesmerizing genre piece, with each frame holding the viewer's attention carefully. Safe offers multiple interpretations, as its title carries various meanings. Its atmosphere lingers long after the credits roll, leaving a lasting impression on the audience.

Moore's performance, subtle yet powerful, reaches a devastating climax, portraying her character's suffocation under societal labels. As she yearns for the purity of rural air or the relief of an oxygen tank, the film confronts audiences with questions about our true selves beneath the onslaught of technology, evolving landscapes, and societal norms.

As one of the most widely-known hysterical film, Rosemary's Baby takes the cake for its reluctance to sugarcoat anything. At the time daring, Polanski sought out to redefine the 'hysterical woman' trope, as films that had challenged the archetype beforehand had unsuccessfully painted the full picture. 

A film deeply rooted in the paranoia of the second Red Scare, yet its themes of motherhood fears, birth trauma anxieties, and community perceptions remain relevant nearly fifty years later. Similar to Repulsion (1965), Polanski's Rosemary's Baby portrays a woman descending into paranoid delusions, but while Carol in Repulsion succumbs internally, Rosemary is overwhelmed by external pressures. Initially portrayed as sensible and grounded, Rosemary is gradually pushed to the brink of hysteria by the events unfolding around her, despite her bright future and seemingly happy relationship.

Observing Mia Farrow's delicate portrayal of the innocent Rosemary's descent into neurotic turmoil is an undeniable display of the interplay between subconscious power and conscious terror. While always recognizing its brilliance, I hadn't fully appreciated why it stands as a masterful psychological horror until now. The film's strategic blending of domestic drama and supernatural thriller creates a deeply unsettling yet thought-provoking experience. This newfound perspective has elevated Rosemary's Baby to one of my favorite Polanski films and a cornerstone of modern horror cinema and female hysteria.

A unique and deliberately enigmatic film by Cassavetes (and likely a significant influence on the 2014 film Birdman or (The Unexpected Virtue of Ignorance)), Opening Night revolves around an aging actress, Gena Rowlands, grappling with her sanity as she prepares for a new play. Blurring the lines between reality and fiction, it delves into the essence of performance. While it may not fully realize its potential, the film remains consistently captivating, featuring strong performances from Writer/Director John Cassavetes, Ben Gazzara, and a standout portrayal by Rowlands.

Gena Rowlands' performance, coupled with her extensive collaboration with husband and director John Cassavetes, is extraordinary. Her mastery of physicality sets her apart, defining screen presence with every gesture and line. Despite portraying multiple panic attacks and breakdowns, Rowlands maintains viewer empathy, skillfully immersing us in her character's emotional turmoil without alienation. Watching her, I felt a profound connection to her character's struggles, experiencing a sense of isolation akin to hers.

While aging is a central theme, the film ultimately explores the confines of societal roles. Rowlands' Myrtle, trapped in the portrayal of an aging woman both on stage and in life, grapples with feelings of confinement and worthlessness. Opening Night transcends mere aging narrative, delving into the broader concept of being pigeonholed in life's roles.

In a whirlwind of hysteria and raw emotion, Isabelle Adjani and Sam Neill deliver career-defining performances in Andrzej Żuławski's visceral exploration of psychological horror. Their characters, devoid of distractions in empty streets and bare walls, are brought to the forefront, with Adjani's unparalleled portrayal driving the narrative to heights of agony and despair. Żuławski's lens intensifies the chaos, capturing the intimate yet tumultuous journey with unrelenting fervor.

Adjani's portrayal, while excessive, perfectly embodies Żuławski's examination of divorce, transcending realism for grotesque exaggeration. Dislike morphs into hatred, fights escalate to screams, and conflicts transform into horrors, mirroring the painful dissolution of symbiotic relationships. As Adjani navigates two roles simultaneously - the hysterical wife in blue and the angelic teacher in white - religious motifs and horror elements intertwine, reaching the manifestation of monstrous creatures from the depths of the protagonists' minds.

Frantic screams and violent movements become Adjani's only means of expression, paralleled by the kinetic energy of the camera, which mirrors characters' cold gazes and propels the viewer into the heart of the chaos. Possession becomes an immersive and exhausting experience, impossible to look away from, as Żuławski masterfully captures the unraveling of sanity amidst a tumultuous divorce.

Raw and deeply poignant, A Woman Under the Influence delivers a gut-wrenching portrayal of familial struggle and societal pressures. Gena Rowlands and Peter Falk immerse themselves in their roles as Mabel and Nick, breathing life into their characters with unparalleled authenticity. Rowlands, in particular, delivers a standout performance as Mabel, a mother grappling with her eccentricities and the crushing weight of societal expectations. Her desperate desire to please her husband and be a good mother evokes endless sympathy from viewers. Falk's portrayal of Nick adds complexity to their dynamic, highlighting the dysfunctionality that permeates their relationship.

The film dismantles the illusion of 'happily ever after', exposing the harsh realities of mental illness and societal norms. It confronts the viewer with the immense pressures placed on women to conform to traditional roles, while also depicting abuse in a subtle yet impactful manner. A Woman Under the Influence forces audiences to confront the bleak truth of generations of women lost to domestic servitude, echoing the themes explored in films like Jeanne Dielman, 23, quai du Commerce, 1080 Bruxelles (1975), and Wanda (1970). It challenges conventional narratives surrounding mental illness and instead presents a nuanced portrayal of individuals struggling to navigate societal expectations and personal turmoil.

Unfiltered, heart-wrenching, and profoundly human, Gena Rowlands delivers an unforgettable portrayal of the vulnerability inherent in human emotions and the anguish of failing to meet societal expectations. A Woman Under the Influence immerses viewers in a disorienting, suffocating world, where emotions run raw and the camera's intimacy feels almost intrusive, eliciting discomfort. It's an emotionally overwhelming experience that leaves a lasting impact fifty years later.