Or: The Batshit Teenager Is Batshit But Decides To Get Better In The Last Reel. I have no doubt this is a good book. You can almost kinda tell from the movie. The movie is an outright disaster of exploitative horror. I rate it as high as I do because of the many over-the-top “Shock Corridor” scenes. The talk therapy scenes between young Kathleen Quinlan and Bibi Andersson are facile and the fantasy sequences are vapid. However, the meat of the film (and, I have a hunch, not so much the book — this is a Roger Corman production) is simply a catalogue of crazy house horrors the likes of which makes “One Flew Over The Cukoo’s Nest” look like a trip to Club Med. (Call this Club Meds, perhaps.) Anyay, there is screaming screaming screaming and arm-burning and wide-eyed head-bashing and babbling galore! It is awesome! (How young Kathleen always manages to look calm and clean when she’s with the therapist isn’t explained, though. Actually, not much is explained. I kinda had to learn the basic plot of the movie by reading a Wikipedia article on the book.) So, for camp reasons, yes, I strongly recommend this movie. For an actual, gripping story about emotionally challenged stick with David and Lisa or Ordinary People, as this is, I admit, a hunk of turd.