WASHINGTON -- In the dark hall at the Library of Congress, the curator's staff members gingerly take hold of the death mask of "Wolf Man," a plaster casting of one of Sigmund Freud's most famous patients.

Studying how a small spotlight hits the narrow eyes and stubby mustache of the deranged man's final pose, the assistants position it forward and back, struggling to keep the mask from getting lost in the darkness of the case.

But as the largest-ever exhibit on Freud's life's work is unveiled today at the library's Great Hall, it is really his ideas, not his artifacts, that are doing battle with the shadows. Dismissed by Prozac advocates, accused of malpractice by academic researchers, abandoned by former psychoanalytic followers and deemed dangerous by feminists, the famed Doktor's legacy has sat awkwardly in the light of public opinion for years now.

Yet here on display is the kilim rug on which patients free-associated their way into history, as Freud spun theories about castration anxiety and the like. Here is the audiotape of Freud in a BBC interview, defending himself against people who "thought my theories unsavory." Here is the snapshot of Freud and his mother standing by the grave of his dead father, an apt image if ever there was one for the man who gave us the Oedipus complex.

One thing seems clear: Freud, and the memory of him, will not be repressed.

The exhibit sidesteps the question of whether Freud had the right idea, and instead shows that the grandfather of psychoanalysis became a figure of intrigue in 20th century culture. Freud is "the Frude Dude" in the movie "Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure" and the subject of an Ira Gershwin song. Ideas popularized by Freud that once spawned "Psychoanalysis," a 1950s comic book with a therapist action hero who battles neuroses, still generate analyst-worship movies today like "Good Will Hunting" (boy meets girl, boy gets therapy, boy gets girl).

But, as one expert noted, now is also the time of "As Good As It Gets" (boy meets girl, boy gets medication, boy gets girl). Pharmaceutical use to treat depression is skyrocketing -- U.S. anti-depressant sales reached more than $6 billion this year. It would seem Freud, who mined personal histories for his psycho-sexual theories, might finally be buried as a result.

Instead, a curious backlash has occurred. To some, to be pro-Freud is to believe the human psyche is a complex mystery instead of an easily calibrated chemical formula. Freud has come to symbolize the argument that inner conflict requires more than simply the right pill for a cure. After all, defenders say, talking, not medicating, was at the root of Freud's therapy.

"Personal history is central to Freud, and it's a much richer explanatory scheme than that people are simply transparent reflections of their environments or biology," says Thomas Parisi, who is writing a defense of Freud and heads the psychology department at Saint Mary's College in Notre Dame, Ind.

Anti-Freudians counter that even in death, Freud is still winning the PR battle. "When we think of psychotherapy we think of Freud. But it's ironic because psychotherapy aims at being supportive of the patient and helping the patient cope -- it's fundamentally opposed to Freud's concept, which was to break down the patient's idea of what was the matter with her or him to get to the infantile material," says Frederick C. Crews, author of "Unauthorized Freud," a new book critical of the doctor's legacy.

Freud felt that all human beings are born with sexual and aggressive desires that are overwhelming and ultimately repressed. Instead of empathizing, the therapist was supposed to act as a blank slate on which patients projected their feelings, and only the therapist was deemed qualified to interpret those thoughts. Today, this uneven relationship prompts even some Freud defenders to admit they would never seek out traditional Freudian analysis for themselves (only about 5 percent of therapists practice it now).

Current therapy is far more empathetic. In cognitive behavioral therapy, patients focus on how to fix immediate problems by working with their analysts to adapt the way they approach their lives. In interpersonal therapy, patients seek out the roots of a personal problem by analyzing early childhood conflict and the relationship patterns that followed.

As for Freud, his particular techniques -- from dream interpretation to hypnosis -- come in and out of vogue. But his reputation has been on a clear downward spiral for the last 15 years. Aside from feminists who deem Freud's phallocentric view of the universe absurd, researchers have blasted Freud for everything from encouraging a wealthy patient to give money to a psychoanalysis fund to urging two married patients to leave their spouses for each other.

Now, into the scholarly cat fight over where Freud's contributions fit in the history of psychoanalysis comes Michael Roth, the curator of the Freud exhibit and a Freud scholar himself. With as many as 250,000 visitors expected, Roth knew he had a volatile subject and was eager not to turn the exhibit into Freud propaganda.

"We want to allude to the issues that remain open and interesting without telling people what to think about them," says Roth, now associate director of the Getty Research Institute for the History of Art and the Humanities in Los Angeles. To address the controversy, he has decorated the walls of the exhibit with quotes from critics as well as supporters.

This is hardly what Freud advocates envisioned in July 1995. At an international psychoanalytic conference, Sigmund Freud Archives director Harold Blum promised a televised opening with a Freud portrait in the library's Rotunda, where pictures of presidents have hung. Such a celebration of Freud sparked an outcry from critics, including Freud's granddaughter. The anti-Freudians submitted a 50-signature petition in protest, and some called the exhibit an advertisement for the ailing field of Freudian psychoanalysis.

By December, the library had postponed the show, saying it was more than $300,000 short of its $900,000 budget, and in turn sparked another mini-eruption by exhibit supporters who cried censorship. The library, which did not pay for the exhibit but raised private donations, eventually found the money. When the dust cleared, Roth had invited several prominent Freud critics to help plan the exhibit and compiled an anthology with anti-Freud writings.

Some critics sound pacified, for now. "I think it's fair to say the original concept of the show has been toned down," says Crews.

If nothing else, the show seeks to humanize Freud as it explores his ideas.

Freud's halting English can be heard from speakers. As he discusses his "neurotic patients" in a radio interview, the icon who has spawned countless cheap movie imitations does seem strangely real. It is the only known recording of Freud, who died at age 83 in 1939, shortly after making the tape.

While Freud burned and destroyed many of his patient notes, plenty of the long sheets of notes still survive, including the one where Freud doodled his artistic interpretation of the ego, the superego and the id. Previously sealed documents from the library's 80,000-item collection also are on display, no longer protected for patient privacy.

While Freud's couch is too delicate for travel, a mock-up will be on display with the real rug and pillows. Also exhibited are Freud's archaeological objects -- think pieces he studied as he wrote and listened to patients. He considered these objects apt analogies for the human mind: Long-buried ancient artifacts discovered through the painful labors of digging.

The exhibit makes a similar exercise of Freud's own life. And as Freud himself believed, digging into the past uncovers conflict -- something this exhibit does all too well.

The Freud exhibit

What: "Sigmund Freud: Conflict and Culture," an exhibit that focuses on Freud's formative years, his therapy and his theories on the dynamics of society. After Washington, it will travel to the Jewish Museum in New York and the Sigmund Freud-Museum and the Austrian National Library in Vienna.

When: Today through Jan. 16 (10 a.m. to 5 p.m. Monday through Saturday)

Where: Library of Congress' Jefferson Building, First Street and Independence Avenue S.E.

Cost: Free and open to the public

Pub Date: 10/15/98