Jacob had a dream: a ladder rested on the earth, while its top reached the heaven; and behold, the angels of God ascended and descended on it (Genesis 28:12)

Vietnam, Mekong Delta. An American patrol jokes during a moment of calm, making fun of Corporal Jacob Singer, nicknamed the professor for his degree in philosophy. Suddenly, the hell of war breaks loose, explosions, machine gun fire, mangled limbs, soldiers going insane, others fleeing into the thick jungle, where Jacob is pierced by a bayonet.

It's just a bad dream made of things long past, Jacob had fallen asleep in the subway car and thus misses the stop, the exits of the deserted station are closed and he is forced to descend onto the tracks, risking being hit by a train that appeared suddenly, with horrible faceless beings without eyes staring impassively through the windows.

Is this the true hell? The one of every day? Jacob came back from the war in pieces, he left his wife and children and lives with the seductive colleague Jezz, adapting to work as a postman. His greatest pain was the loss of his favorite son, Gabriel, while the physical one is back pain alleviated by the care of whom he calls his guardian angel, the therapist Louis, always rich in advice and wisdom.

Or is this also a dream? Because sometimes Jacob wakes up at night in bed with his first wife Sara and goes to tuck in the three children, including the blonde little angel Gabriel.

His hallucinations worsen, at a party he sees a sort of gigantic alien snake wrapping around Jezz's legs while she dances, on the street he feels followed by deformed beings moving their heads in brisk, jerky motions. But Jacob's perverse fantasies have an explanation that he himself discovers: together with other soldiers in his battalion, he was the subject of an experiment and was loaded with a powerful hallucinogenic drug that unleashes man's primordial and aggressive instincts, turning him into a mad killer. And now he feels persecuted and surrounded by demons trying to kill him, and when hospitalized, he descends to the last and dark steps of that ladder resting in the bowels of the earth. Carried on a stretcher through hospital wards similar to infernal circles, he witnesses horrifying scenes that our conscience would rather not have seen. But good guardian Louis will come to his aid, explaining to him that angels or demons are our creation because we cannot shed light on ourselves. Jacob will have the courage to bring to the surface what makes him feel bad, and then the ladder is still there waiting for him, and up there at the top is only light. The surprising finale will further confirm that you have watched a great movie.

I believe few would expect from the director of "Flashdance" and "Nine 1/2 Weeks," of "Lolita" and "Indecent Proposal," such a profound film. But Adrian Lyne is like that, take it or leave it: contradictory and for this very reason also fascinating. His polished structures sometimes seem suspended over the void, yet this is a director who knows how to build a story and has a talent for provocation, maybe sometimes forced but capable of exposing the same contradictions of human nature.

"Jacob's Ladder" is a chilling film, little seen at its release in 1990, but which managed to build its own cult. The horror scenes disturb not so much for their brutality but for their resemblance to the nightmares we could experience at any negative moment in our lives. And the superb performance by Tim Robbins helps us empathize with Jacob’s anguish, who, confused like us viewers, doesn't know if he is living the reality, the past, or the future of his life.

If you missed it, there’s still time to make amends, as the ladder (the ladder) is always there. It's up to you to decide if you want to see the light.

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