Kai Perrignon’s review published on Letterboxd:
Ostensibly about a schizophrenic woman dealing with trauma in a mental asylum, Jane Arden's The Other Side of the Underneath is ultimately not really about narrative, character, or even meaning. It seems to exist purely as an evocation of a mental state. The film is a near constant stream of hysteria and surreality, a barrage of hell and horror, of bald caps and strip teases, fish-eyed lenses and burning fields, never-ending parties and bloody concerts, violas smashed and bodies touched.
It's experimental, avant-garde, wild and broken. It puts you in a trance and tries to make you feel the impossible weight of insanity, and then leaves you standing with your body loose and naked, having fixed nothing and gained only a bleak feeling of condescension from parental figures who seem more interested in writing papers about you than helping.