Low-rent horror fans rejoice, killing just got a whole lot more technical. Brainscan is a horror film where the things you expect to happen do, but not in the method you would come into to call with. Edward Furlong plays Michael, a smart-ass, mope who walks around his house in a chronic mist of his own fasciations. Those fascinations stem from the pleasure he gets from death, maybe because he watched his mother die as a child due to a brutal car accident, but the purpose is not up for questioning here. He loves horror films, violent video games and anything dark in aura. He perceives such horrors as amusing, a way to escape even, a rather funny thought if you take it out of context. It's like `lighting a marijuana cigarette and travelling to the real world, or getting an erection from watching a pornographic sex film and raping someone.' He is a best friend with another naive narcissist youth named Kyle, and together they discover Brainscan. Brainscan is a computer based program, designed to emulate fear in its greatest and most pure form though a mind controlling technique much in the same vein as hypnosis. Now we have all seen enough of these horror flicks to know that something just doesn't sit suitably here. But Michael, phased by nothing, inquires about Brainscan. During his telephone conversation with whomever is on the other end of the toll-free number something strange happens to Michael, something I myself can't explain because it doesn't explain itself, but you know it can only perpetuate immoral. Michael receives the game in the mail days following and realises that it indeed does present one with an accurate accounts of fear. The game places you inside the body of a killer, allowing the mind to make the decisions on how the actions will unfold upon themselves. Michael loves it, we know better. These things never terminate without consequence; this one bears no exception. The next day Michael awakens to a news report that discloses no less than himself as a real killer, turns out Brainscan was a little more realistic than poor Michael had thought. He is then sent into a downward spiral of mind-games, immortalized by a mashed formation of Freddy Krueger and the Joker, named the Trickster. I don't believe that there is any more need for plot description, as far as the continuation of story goes, it habitually writes itself. And still I enjoyed this film. I liked where it was going, but not how it executed itself. I see something here that Wes Craven would have directed but would have used more grotesque wit and style instead of such a personalized attack on plot. And still I do like the personal touches. The inner tension between Michael and himself allowed for greater play of actions and opinions, this is a character that acts out of himself and not the situation he finds himself in. Where most would pry on stupid actions this one analyzes them, providing emotions to go along with its characters; a bad film would have just used these secondary characters as assailants to death. I also liked the way T. Ryder Smith played with the Trickster instead of playing him. He finds the proper balance between scenery chewing announce and over-acted stereotype, the right consistency for a character like this, as the Trickster is not pegged as a formal villain, or even a villain at all, what he is, is up to the imagination of the user. And yet I have three problems with this film and one quarrel that I shouldn't have to debate but feel obliged to anyhow, as they present script holes that shouldn't have come to be. The first downfall is detective Hayden, played by Frank Langella, who I have seen play a character like this many times before, but under better circumstances. Hayden is the type of moderate foil character who does nothing more than stand around and complicate script processions. He is reduced to obnoxious, redundant and oblivious to his tasks. He places himself into environments as if only to be seen instead of enacting his function. I also dislike how this character uses threats to unearth his observations, not good judgement. The second misinterpretation is the `death of a mother' scenario, a loophole in the script that holds not significance to the story but used itself as a device to keep itself moving. This under-tone proves not as a means to elaborate something about the film itself, or the main character, but rather to fill gaps that would present no logical bond otherwise. The next predicament is Brainscan itself. Through the action of the first disk, director John Flynn uses a first person shot to show Michael seeing through the eyes of a killer, a shot I was quite fond of at that. But on the third play, Michael is viewed from the third person, voiding the mystery and the unwillingness from the audience created by the first person shot, inevitably simplifying the one complex aspect of the game. The final quarrel is that the film climaxes much to soon and takes far to much time for resolution, providing too much recovery and not enough explanation. Even through its downfalls, Brainscan surprised me. I was expecting gore. I got it, but I also got emotional movements almost as if to suggest that Brainscan was the one that didn't quite get away, but tried it's hardest. Although this film offers little to be reconciled over I do recommend it because it left me with one realized notion that should be taken into consideration, the greatest aspect of fear lies in the experience.
Review of Brainscan
