Or: “When Therapy Involves Screaming at a Naked Teen in a Stable”
The Horseplay Is Metaphorical… Unfortunately
Equus is the kind of movie that makes you say, “Well, that was…something,” before quietly questioning every life choice that led you to it. Based on Peter Shaffer’s intense stage play—and directed with Shakespearean fervor by Sidney Lumet—Equus tries to drag you into the tortured psyche of a teenage boy who blinds six horses with a hoof pick. And no, that’s not a spoiler—that’s the first five minutes.
It’s not a whodunit. It’s a whatthehellisthis.
This is a film drenched in symbolism, theatrical monologues, horse worship, and the unsettling realization that Richard Burton is going to sweat his way through every frame like a man trying to explain a Greek tragedy during a nervous breakdown. And just when you think it couldn’t get more awkward: boom—naked kid in a barn.
The Plot: Talk Therapy with a Side of Madness
Alan Strang (Peter Firth) is a teenager with a troubled mind and a hobby that includes working at a stable, riding horses in the nude, and reciting Bible verses to them like a four-hoofed gospel choir. When he gouges out the eyes of six horses in a fit of something between religious ecstasy and emotional overload, he’s committed, and the court calls in Dr. Dysart (Burton), a weary psychiatrist who’s as burnt out as his tweed jacket.
The movie becomes a series of therapy sessions, flashbacks, and philosophical rants about modern society, repression, God, and what it means to feel passion—usually delivered with the volume and intensity of someone trying to exorcise a demon from a chaise lounge.
Richard Burton: The Patron Saint of Sweaty Monologues
Richard Burton gives a performance that lands somewhere between brilliant and exhausted. His Dr. Dysart isn’t just analyzing Alan—he’s unraveling himself in real time. One minute he’s a thoughtful therapist, the next he’s growling about ritual sacrifice and freedom like he’s auditioning for Gladiator: The Musical.
He spends half the movie staring off into space, questioning his sterile marriage and whether modern psychiatry has turned us all into hollow shells. The other half, he’s shouting at a teenager in a dramatic spotlight while sweat drips off his nose like emotional punctuation.
Burton’s performance? Intense. Passionate. A little unhinged. Like the world’s most theatrical therapist who should definitely not be allowed near a clipboard.
The Horses: Surprisingly Sympathetic
The horses—played by actors in masks and high drama poses—are both the creepiest and most effective part of the film. They’re towering, humanlike, and eerily still, like Cirque du Soleil wandered into a pagan ritual. They don’t say a word, but they manage to steal scenes with their judgmental stares and clomping movements.
Watching Alan caress one while muttering “Equus” like he’s invoking an ancient deity is… well, uncomfortable. But that’s the point. The movie wants you to feel weird, and boy, does it succeed.
Naked Angst in the Hay
One of the most infamous scenes involves a fully nude Alan standing in a barn next to an equally nude girl while mentally unraveling. It’s less erotic than it is awkward—like walking into an experimental college play halfway through and realizing everyone’s naked and shouting about God.
Peter Firth gives it everything he’s got—emotionally, physically, and spiritually. He earned an Oscar nomination for it, and deservedly so, even if the scene itself feels like it’s part exorcism, part livestock PSA.
Stagey Roots, Big-Screen Problems
Here’s the issue: Equus works better on the stage. On film, the symbolism sometimes feels a bit too on-the-nose, the monologues a bit too long, and the pacing a bit too much like a three-hour therapy appointment without insurance coverage.
There are moments of brilliance, to be sure. Themes of repression, misplaced passion, and the price of “normalcy” are powerful. But they’re buried under so much dialogue and theatrical excess that you may feel like you need therapy afterthe movie ends.
Final Thoughts
2.5 out of 5 sacred hoof picks
Equus is ambitious, intense, and loaded with dark philosophical musings about society, sanity, and the difference between existing and feeling alive. But it’s also ponderous, stagey, and about as subtle as a sledgehammer in a barnyard. It’s the kind of film that would make a college professor swoon and a first-date partner excuse themselves to the bathroom… and never come back.
Watch it for Burton, the bold weirdness, and yes—for the sheer commitment to making horses into religious icons. But be warned: you’ll never look at a stable—or a psychiatrist’s office—the same way again.
