If you previously thought I was nuts for calling Judith Light the Maria Falconetti of American TV movies, wait until you hear my theory that her late ’70s arc on One Life to Live as housewife-turned-hooker-turned-murderer Karen Wolek is the soap equivalent to Jeanne Dielman, 23, quai du Commerce, 1080 Bruxelles. Light’s legendary courtroom breakdown scenes as Wolek (seen here in a 1997 ABC retrospective hosted by Reba McEntire) contain some of the finest acting in the history of television and prepare us for her telefilm work to come, including 1994’s Betrayal of Trust.
Based on a true story, Betrayal recounts singer Barbara Nöel’s years of abuse at the hands of Jules Masserman, a psychiatrist and psychoanalyst played by Judd Hirsch with a nearly perpetual scowl. Nöel (Light) sought treatment for complaints including performance anxiety and Masserman suggested the “Amytal interview,” in which he administered the highly addictive barbiturate sodium amytal. “Your subconscious will reveal itself to you in new and exciting ways,” he assures her. “You know, Barbara, sometimes this world can seem like a very frightening place. But now you’ll begin to relax. To feel safe and happy. And all the bad feelings of the past will begin to melt, melt away.”
When Barbara regains consciousness earlier than usual during one of these sessions to find Masserman concluding a sexual assault, she goes straight to the nearest hospital to report her rape. “Are you sure you aren’t just mad at your shrink, ma’am?” a cop predictably asks before suggesting it was a dream. At the urging of supportive friends Dick and Mary Shelton (Jeffrey DeMunn of Ebbie and Holland Taylor), she visits a succession of lawyers who don’t feel she has a case. Masserman is so powerful and influential in his field that none of his colleagues will testify against him, and his attorney smears Barbara as “a very troubled person” whose testimony isn’t credible.
The revictimization of survivors is one of the most reliably upsetting (and unfortunately realistic) features of movies about rape. Barbara’s shaky refusal to be deterred in Betrayal of Trust requires deft and delicate work from Light. “Sometimes I look at you and I feel like you’re made of glass,” bandmate and potential love interest Curt (John Getz) says in one of her many vulnerable moments. “You’re so fragile you can break just from being looked at. All I want to do is hold you and keep you from breaking.” It’s a relief when Barbara, who has grown dependent on alcohol and Valium to maintain the feeling that Amytal gave her, chooses to rely on herself, not Curt, for comfort and protection.
Adapted by Suzette Couture from You Must Be Dreaming, an acclaimed account of her ordeal that Nöel coauthored with Kathryn Watterson, Betrayal of Trust covers a lot of ground in 90 minutes, much of it procedural. Barbara never gets her day in court, but with help from others (including Kevin Tighe’s lawyer) she reaches a settlement with Masserman and forces him to retire from clinical practice. Her decision to come forward empowers others to do the same, including professor Lorna Lucas (Lisa Darr of Ellen). For her final act, she demands an inquiry from the American Psychiatric Association’s ethics committee, which is as close as she could get to a trial by jury.
Betrayal of Trust works best when it focuses on Barbara’s quest for justice, which has a cerebral undercurrent often lacking in other crusading made-for-TV biopics. It stumbles when Couture—whose credits include Child of Rage, Baby Seller, and my personal favorite, Jesus, a miniseries featuring Debra Messing as Mary Magdalene—throws in ancillary drama like Dick’s terminal cancer and flashbacks to Barbara’s failed marriage to a fellow musician. Worst of all is its take on recovered-memory therapy, a discredited therapeutic process that also gave us Shelley Long’s awful Fatal Memories.
Masserman’s practice of recovered-memory therapy was a predatory ploy. But this story takes the general concept seriously, so enter Dr. Galanti (Betty Buckley), a psychiatrist recommended by a rape crisis center. She shepherds Barbara through this hypnotic exercise (sans Amytal) with the gentle poise of a spokesperson for adult diapers. Director George Kaczender (Maternal Instincts) is less than graceful in his navigation of what horrors Galanti uncovers, but Light smooths over the rough edges. Her emotional restraint and the sensitivity with which she approaches Barbara’s resilience deserved a better film—and also make this imperfect one worth watching.
Streaming and DVD availability
Betrayal of Trust hasn’t been released on DVD, though bootlegs circulate. It’s currently streaming (free with ads) on the Roku Channel. You can also find it on YouTube. In early 2024, it was added to Lifetime’s Movie Club, which offers a free weeklong trial — you’ll want to search to verify it’s still there since Lifetime rotates its offerings.
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Cranky Lesbian is a disgruntled homosexual with too much time on her hands. Click for film reviews or to follow on Instagram.
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