Cult horror director Frank Henenlotter has been called many things over the course of his all-too-brief career but unimaginative is not one of them. Not only does Henenlotter provide his audience with another instance of his trademark quirkiness which–like David Lynch, Larry Cohen, and Alejandro Jodorowsky–is a league onto itself, but he does so by creating a philosophic double entendre with an iconoclastic itinerary involving a wry parody of Nancy Reagan’s “Just So No” campaign while positing a conservative cautionary tale based around drug use and dependency.
Tired of being served sheep brains, Aylmer (John Zacherle), a brain-eating parasite which excretes hallucinogenic fluids into his host, flees from the apartment of Morris (Theo Barnes) and Martha (Lucille Saint-Peter) and into Brian’s (Rick Hearst) bedroom. Brian comes to realize that when he is high (via Aylmer’s excretions), Alymer is committing murder. He then attempts to break his dependency from the parasite, only to return to Alymer and to the discovery that the narcotic-excreting scavenger is planning to eat the brains of Brian’s sister, Barabara (Jennifer Lowry).
Henenlotter broke onto the horror scene in 1982 with his highly Freudian parody/examination titled Basket Case in which a character carries his malformed, murderous brother with him in a wicker basket (which the director sardonically alludes to during the course of Brain Damage). It would take the highly imaginative writer/director six years to follow up his resounding production. Luckily, the lapse of a little more than half a decade did not sour Henenlotter’s creativity for his leech-like antagonist, Aylmer (who is likewise equally Freudian in his phallic appearance, which the director utilizes to its campiest degree), is not only likable with his soothing, television-commentator voice, which he uses to serenade his hosts when they are in the throes of withdrawal (via a perverted rendition of, natch, Tommy Dorsey’s “Elmer’s Tune”), but–by the finale of the feature–we not only empathize with the creature, but consider whether or not the labels of “antagonist” or “protagonist” even apply. Alymer’s playful, stop-motion animation, atop his constant nonchalant levity, make his dietary needs (thus, by Aristotelian dogma, an inculpable trait) seem almost passé by the end of the film.
Yet, aside from the campy, deconstructive monster which Henenlotter provides his audience, what is perhaps more surprising is the manner in which the director tells his parable of drug addiction. It can be argued that the horror genre is as conservative as it is liberal in that it steadfastly posits the dangers of the world in exaggerated, but in a nonetheless ready, form yet oftentimes does so at the expense of its premise as it revels in the carnage which follows. That said, many critics cite Brain Damage as Henenlotter’s anti-drug fable. We watch as Brian not only becomes hopelessly dependent upon the fluids provided by Aylmer, but–due to blackouts which follow his highs–the addict is unable to account for the events which preceded him. Of course, Henenlotter’s cleverness is consistently plentiful as Brian’s epiphany that Aylmer is eating the brains of various individuals mocks the ominous warnings of countless D.A.R.E. campaigns which state that drugs erode our brains. Succinctly, once Brian becomes cognizant of his vicariously homicidal nature, he attempts to kick his habit (in the stereotypical dive of a ratty New York City hotel room) but is forced to resort to consenting to being host to more deaths in order to gain access to his precious liquid crutch. If this weren’t enough, Aylmer’s former host, Morris, pauses to educate Brian upon the history of the parasite which he claims is rightfully his as he outlines the creature’s perilous adventures (and implied constancy) throughout time. This–alongside an intoxicated Brian being seen next to a drunken wino in an alley prior to his entry, natch II, into a punk bar, where his behavior doesn’t appear the least bit suspicious–speaks volumes, which says nothing of a girl (Vicki Darnell) learning of the dangers of promiscuous oral sex during the narrative or of Brian’s apprehension at his discovery of “something sticky” in his pants after finding that his underwear was soaked, a-hem, “not my blood.” Only the paranoid 1980s could make a young man anxiety-drive over what would ordinarily be an irresistible kiss-and-tell scenario.
Interestingly, it is the execution of the proceedings which make for interpretative difficulties for Henelotter not only seems to revel in Brian’s predicament but psychedelic POV sequences are presented in bulk as Brain Damage can be justifiably labeled a parody rather than a caustic satire despite the fact that the female fails to serve as the archetypal saving grace by picture’s end. Not only are we allotted a suspicious number of scenes involving males either very scantily-clad or in the buff but Brian’s brother, Mike (Gordon MacDonald), woos Brian’s girlfriend, Barbara, who is very agreeable to his advances. However, the climax of Brain Damage offers the Learyian-advice that one should always use a chaser when using hard drugs, lest the consequences be very, very dire.
Regardless of one’s political proclivities, Frank Henelotter’s Brain Damage is an extremely entertaining venture. If you haven’t gotten your dose of Brain Damage, it is truly unlike anything else out there but, be forewarned, exposure to Henelotter can be as addictive as, say, blue excretions from a singing, Sinatra-esque leech-cum-animated penis who wails his ditties in the bathroom sink of a hotel dive.
-Egregious Gurnow
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