This under-the-radar 1969 thriller simmers with quiet dread and strong performances, even if it never fully embraces its madness.

In the shadow of better-known psychological thrillers of the 1960s, Bernard Girard’s The Mad Room sits in a strange limbo — a Gothic-tinged chamber piece that doesn’t quite unravel as boldly as its premise promises, but nonetheless simmers with intrigue, dread, and the occasional jolt of melodramatic madness.

A reimagining of Ladies in Retirement (1941), the film casts a young Stella Stevens as Ellen Hardy, whose attempt to build a respectable life is threatened by the sudden return of her institutionalised siblings. With a wedding on the horizon and a matriarchal employer (a scene-stealing Shelley Winters) to appease, Ellen’s composure begins to unravel as past horrors threaten to bleed into the present — culminating in a suspicious death and an ever-darkening sense of claustrophobia.

While The Mad Room never fully descends into the psychological chaos it flirts with, it crafts a tense atmosphere within the confines of its limited setting. Girard’s direction is largely restrained, letting the performances do most of the heavy lifting, particularly Stevens, whose nervous energy gives the film a pulse even when the pacing sags.

However, despite its sinister setup and a few genuinely unsettling moments, the film doesn’t push far enough. Its secrets are telegraphed too early, and the final revelations feel like a missed opportunity to truly shock. The film lingers just on the edge of greatness, unwilling to let itself go mad.

The Prognosis:

For fans of slow-burning, character-driven thrillers with a taste for domestic unease and lingering trauma, The Mad Room offers a slightly underappreciated detour into late-60s psychological horror — flawed, yes, but not without merit.

• Saul Muerte