Before “Raising Cain,” before “Me, Myself and Irene,” and long before anyone had heard of dissociative identity disorder, a landmark film explored the life of a real woman who suffered what was then known as multiple personality disorder.
“Sybil” was a critically acclaimed and popular hit in 1976, starring Sally Field and Joanne Woodward in the poignant story of a woman who develops more than 16 distinct personalities to cope with life after a hideously abusive childhood.
This classic film was a four-hour TV miniseries, not a theatrical release. It won four Emmy Awards: a best actress for Field, plus nods for outstanding special, screenwriting and musical composition. (CBS is planning a new version of “Sybil” next year with Jessica Lange and Tammy Blanchard.)
On the 30th anniversary, Warner Home Video today releases “Sybil” on DVD for the first time. The package boasts more than an hour’s worth of extras, including interviews with Field, Woodward, screenwriter Stewart Stern, producer Peter Dunne and friends of the actual Sybil. Also included is a tour of “The Paintings of Sybil,” artwork by the real woman.
The film, based on a book by Flora Rheta Schreiber, was quite daring for its time. In fact, some producers say the kind of adult material that was acceptable on television in the 1970s probably wouldn’t see the light of cathode ray today.
In its careful telling of the discoveries of childhood trauma, the film specifically avoided shock value, instead offering insights in increments, letting the viewer experience the awakening realization along with the psychiatrist and patient.
In a separate disc of extra features, the screenwriter recalls his difficulty getting certain ideas past the network. His recollections speak volumes about the way television worked then and, in spite of technological and linguistic changes, too often works now. Instead of encouraging creativity, the middle managers function to weed out anything new and different.
“We met the brass at NBC,” Stern recalls, and the reaction was “deadpan.” As he began making his pitch, “they had that committee look.”
He recounts the numerous bad suggestions proffered by the network executives and explains how he stood firm against them.
He added a young man, Sybil’s neighbor, to the teleplay although the character didn’t exist in the book, and Stern explains the writing logic behind that creative choice.
Finally, after one too many lousy suggestions from the suits, Stern recalls, he told the network in the strongest possible terms that “I have lived with authentic pain for almost three years,” having immersed himself in the nonfiction story and the writing, and having studied the voice recordings of the real Sybil. He had “the privilege of her confidence,” he told them, “and can’t cheapen the pain. Don’t ask me to.”
He explains how he was able to fight the zealous network censors when it came to the scenes re-enacting Sybil’s abuse.
For her part, Field recalls how, during filming, “Joanne was always talking me down.”
She speaks candidly about the challenges of the role and how difficult it was working with a director who didn’t understand how TV is different from stage work. The original director was replaced by Daniel Petrie (“A Raisin in the Sun”), but Field remembers there were a few shaky days when the production meandered and scenes were taped with no director.
The role was a career changer for Field. Prior to “Sybil” her meatiest parts were “Gidget” and “The Flying Nun.” Without “Sybil” her now extensive filmography may have been limited to cutesy half-hours. Field was a wonder running through the various characters-within-a-character in the miniseries at age 30. (Last week ABC announced Field will join the cast of “Brothers & Sisters,” an eagerly anticipated fall drama.)
The music is as haunting as ever. The opening graphics are more artful than much of what passes for design today.
And while certain details of psychiatric care may have been romanticized in 1976 – modern films know better than to show an analyst rushing from a private Christmas party to administer a sedative to a suicidal patient – overall the production holds up remarkably well.
TV critic Joanne Ostrow can be reached at 303-820-1830 or jostrow@denverpost.com.
