HEAD TRAUMA

From its origins in oral folk belief and the quasi-religious story patterns of cross-comparative mythology, to its subsequent refinement as fiction, cinematic ghost stories have long frightened audiences, using their spectral exorcisms of both the afterlife and the hidden complexities of the shadowy human heart to challenge our preconceptions of life, the world, and ourselves (even as we are encouraged to enjoy those things that disturb us). Reflecting the fears of its living characters - everyday people forced by chance or personality flaws into confrontations with the spectral - truly terrifying ghost stories do far more than titillate with terrific imagery or shock with carefully orchestrated "Boos!". In addition, they dig deep into our psyches, having as much to say about our relationships as they do about the unknown. The greatest supernatural films are as interested in our minds and emotions as they are in the walking dead. Especially effective (and hardest of all to pull off) are those films that question not only the rules of the everyday world but our perception. Head Trauma, directed by the extremely talented Lance Weiler, co-director of The Last Broadcast interweaves a tormented consciousness with supernatural suggestiveness, and employs the perception of his central tormented character as a means to tease us with ambiguous suspense. A story that depicts a man who may be haunted by ghosts, his conscience, or both, this enigmatic masterwork of the macabre is intelligent, disturbing, and challenging, and its presentation by Heretic Films is a cause for celebration for lovers of 'thinking man's' horror.

Similar to the ghost stories of Henry James (in tone and approach if not characterization), Head Trauma casts a shadow over reason and common sense throughout the entire film, constantly making us doubt the status quo definition of (and dependence on) an overall sense of objective 'reality.' Exploring the unnerving depths of emotional illness, creeping insanity, and the suggestive malignance of the supernatural, this carefully constructed yet ambiguous story whispers rather than screams, and is more effective for it. The central character, evoked with believable angst and confusion, struggles with a dark night of the soul as he grasps to discover if he is insane or if the sinister sensations and visions he suffers are truly occult by nature. Returning to his home after many years to take care of/lay claim to his dead grandmother's home, Walker is an emotional wreck struggling to keep it together. His desire to forge something of a normal life for himself is interrupted by guilt, memories, and the strange happenings that stalk him once he starts cleaning up the decrepit hose. Dropped into a midnight world where reality and fantasy, illusion and truth are subjective at best, Walker walks an uneasy balance between paranoia and doom. Are the nightmarish visions of a malignant hooded figure real? Is anything? And what is the difference? These vital questions -- matters that bother everyone at some point or another, are the backbone to this moving story of the malignant past, acceptance, and possible redemption.

While evoking horrors is in itself an admirable talent, and surface thrills the very reason we enjoy the supernatural, classic manifestations of occult anxiety, from the Robert Wise fright-festival The Haunting to the sadly under-appreciated The Changeling do more than shock; they mirror our own anxieties and vulnerability. While the ambitious Head Trauma doesn't attain the emotional depths or technical perfection of such classics, it does entertain with an impressively conceived and sufficiently chilling surface story lent further disquieting effect by rich themes that question our own moral assumptions. Weiler employs a quiet approach to terror and chillingly effective atmosphere, and his story questions our self complacency and preconceived notions of a safely defined world. Questioning the very tool of perception with which we distinguish between the unreal from the commonplace, the comfortable from the horrific, this fear fable is equal parts traditional urban legend and intimate thriller, told in a style evoking both the rustic, simple scary pleasures of 'round-the-campfire' and the emotionally isolated claustrophobia of a Roman Polanski film.

In a story which takes its time to establish character and setting, this modern supernatural sensation of low budget effects and amateur if intriguing cinematography surmounts its technical failings by presenting a dramatic story whose desperate characters mirror - and lend believability too - the supernatural menace which terribly grows in persistence and malevolence. As poetically lush in its cinematography (in a minimalist, rough hewed shadowing of colors) as its story is scathing, interrogating our shared moral preconceptions as excitingly intense surface actions lurks menacingly across the screen, this movie strikes where we feel safest - our homes -- bringing the horror into the living room. While many will undoubtedly resent the ambiguity and surreal anti-sense of various supernatural encounters and the ending, those who enjoy the dream-logic of Strindberg - or those who simply don't require a plot be hand-fed to them - will appreciate the startlingly creepy emotions induced by the director's refusal to sum up everything.

Picture quality is a miracle of clarity considering the source and the cheap budget with which this disturbing cataclysm of the psychological and supernatural was made. The picture is clear and concise, with minimal distortions and no real discernible splotching, grain, or lines. The moody colors and atmosphere of the feature survive intact, and lend much emotional turbulence to this story of self doubt, occult suggestion, and surrealistic confusion. Audio is crisp and moody. 5.1 Surround Sound, with the score and sound effects layering further strains of mood into this internal conflict of sin and repression.

Extras for this emotional, stylized fable are reason alone to purchase the disc, including a special collector's edition 8 page booklet featuring original art by comics legend S.R. Bissette and liner notes by Stephen Susco. This is a fine, fun extra addition, mirroring the lyrical dark beauty of the story. Bissette's art perfectly captures mirrors the hallucinatory mood of the film and the alienation of the central character. Director's commentary with Weiler is informative as we learn about the trials and pleasures involved in the planning/shooting of the film. We learn that the story was inspired by two real life events: a car wreck experienced by Weiler and his wife and the stages of grief which he experienced after Fox killed a pilot they were ready to show. The five layers of grief form a structure for the narrative, and the director's memories of shooting in the foreboding basement and unconscious homage to Pulaski's "The Tenant" are engaging listening. Of most interest is the not one but SIX futurities, where just about every aspect of the film production (and the talent involved) is analyzed. These include introspective interviews with the cast, "Blowing Up a Car on a Tight Budget," where we learn how to play with explosives and the fun the crew had with a visiting fire marshal, "Shooting in the house (working in a haunted condemned structure)," where cast and crew discuss the authentic eerie quality of the house, "Johnny Magdic and his Amazing Flying Machines" and, finally, "S.R. Bissette," who discusses the art of HEAD TRAUMA. Of most note here is how the illustrations and comics in the film interweave with the main character's struggle with the unknown. Finally, we have "Behind the music of HEAD TRAUMA," and Theatrical Trailers for The Last Broadcast and Head Trauma.

Review by William P. Simmons