I love documentaries, but when I saw this one... “Let There Be Light,” directed by John Huston, marks a
fascinating chapter in the history of documentary filmmaking and American war literature. As the final
entry in Huston’s World War II documentary series produced while serving in the U.S. Army Signal Corps,
this film sought to serve a noble purpose by shedding light on the psychological trauma brought on by
the war and the impact of this trauma on returning veterans.
In the post-World War II era, the U.S. Army faced the daunting task of reintegrating veterans, many of
whom were grappling with the psychological trauma of war. This trauma, often called “shell shock” or
“psychoneurosis,” posed a considerable societal challenge. In response, the Army commissioned Huston
to direct a documentary initially titled “The Returning Psychoneurotics.”
Huston selected Mason General Hospital in Deer Park, New York, as the filming location for its size,
proximity to Astoria Studios, and an open, receptive approach toward his project. The renamed “Let
There Be Light” intended to bring awareness to previously concealed truths surrounding war-induced
mental health issues.
The documentary begins by contextualizing that 20% of wartime casualties have psychiatric
implications. Huston provides a window into the treatment and recovery processes of 75 U.S. service
members suffering from various “nervous conditions,” underscoring the severity of the situation.
Through unscripted interviews and the candid depiction of various treatments ranging from
narcosynthesis to music therapy, the film humanizes these veterans.
Huston’s film remarkably captures the stages of psychiatric therapy, from initial diagnosis to eventual
reintegration into civilian life. The narrative evolves from grim to hopeful, concluding with some
featured patients’ formal discharge from military service.
“Let There Be Light” was revolutionary, using unscripted, raw footage of patient-doctor interactions. The
use of hidden cameras in interview rooms added an unprecedented level of authenticity, capturing
genuine emotion seldom seen in documentaries of the era. The film was also ahead of its time in terms
of racial integration, featuring both black and white patients in an era when military segregation was still
the norm.
Yet, this raw and honest portrayal of war’s psychological toll was too contentious for some. Although
war trauma is as ancient as war itself, the government banned the film after its production, fearing the
potential demoralizing effect on post-war recruitment. It was only in the 1980s, after intense advocacy
and the inclusion of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) in the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of
Mental Disorders, that the film was allowed to be seen by the general public.
Though initially suppressed, Huston’s film and its candid depiction of war trauma challenged the
predominant “warrior” myth of unbroken American soldiers returning home no worse for wear. This
was a lie, as many parents, spouses, children, and employers can attest. If just over 16 million Americans
served in the military and 20% suffered from some degree of psychological trauma, then there were
over 3.2 million psychological injuries in those who served in the armed forces. This does not include
civilians touched by the war.
“Let There Be Light” represents a crucial turning point in the understanding and depiction of war trauma
in American society. It attempts to shed light on the psychological damage to young men and women
our politicians send to war. The government’s desire to keep this film under wraps to protect military
recruitment by perpetuating the “John Wayne” myth of the American soldier came at a high price.
Veterans of the wars in Korea, Vietnam, and subsequent wars came home believing that war trauma or
PTSD demonstrated weakness and even cowardice. Today record numbers of military members commit
suicide partly because they want to avoid the stigma of being broken, weak, or cowardly. Patton was not
a hero for slapping traumatized soldiers. He was an asshole.
