Editorials
“A Life of Light and Pleasure” – Frank Henenlotter’s ‘Brain Damage’ Turns 35
After more than three decades, Frank Henenlotter’s putrid parable for drug addiction hits harder than ever with tons of self-aware bite.
“Splatstick” is an exaggerated horror subgenre that explores grotesque gore that’s so over the top that it begins to border on the point of comedy. Sam Raimi, Peter Jackson, and even more contemporary voices in horror like Sion Sono or Terrifier’s Damien Leone are names that are often associated with this bold, bloody genre. Frank Henenlotter is a pivotal name in splatstick low-budget indie horror whose work often goes overlooked, despite its decidedly more outlandish energy. Henenlotter’s greatest claim to fame is his Basket Case trilogy, but it’s Brain Damage that’s actually the deepest film in his oeuvre.
All of Henenlotter’s horror films have very obvious analogues and they aren’t especially deep in their subtext, but there’s still subtext all the same. Basket Case tackles loneliness, codependence, and parenthood. Frankenhooker looks into the masculine gaze, objectification, and capitalism, while Brain Damage is Henenlotter’s gritty examination of addiction and how to escape the confines of one’s self as Brian copes with having a literal monkey on his back. Now, on its 35th anniversary, Brain Damage makes just as strong of an impact as it did upon its initial release. It presents a level of fun and fearlessness that can be sorely absent in modern horror movies.
The beginning of Brain Damage almost suspiciously feels like it could be a remake of Basket Case. A man, Brian (Rick Hearst), wakes up with remnants of murder around him and zero memories of what happened or if he’s the one who’s responsible. Brian quickly learns that his predicament literally stems from a parasitic worm named Aylmer (voiced by John Zacherle) who forces a symbiotic, toxic transactional relationship with the confused human. It takes 14 minutes for the audience to get their first real sight of Aylmer, but it’s a transformative experience, especially with Zacherle’s quaintly comic voice coming out of this aberration.
Hearst delivers an increasingly heightened performance where he’s barely present when the movie begins, only to mature into a grandiose caricature of what it means to be a human. It’s a layered performance that really goes for it, despite–or perhaps because of–Hearst’s inexperience as an actor. Additionally, Brian’s scenes of relief whenever he’s able to indulge in his “drug” of choice reflect someone who’s truly at ease and rid of the baggage that haunts him in most scenes.
Brain Damage has personality–and fluids–to spare, which makes it particularly impressive that its budget supposedly came in at under $2 million. It’s remarkable that Brain Damage looks as good as it does, especially 35 years later. Curiously, this bare bones budget is still astronomically higher than the approximately $35,000 budget of Henenlotter’s debut feature film, Basket Case. Brain Damage doesn’t squander its budget and this movie feels bigger and more ambitious than Basket Case in every regard.
Brain Damage particularly excels through its inventive display of special effects that range from stop motion, optical effects, animation, and the use of miniatures to make all of this monster madness come to life. Al Magliochetti was the mastermind here, alongside makeup effects artist Gabe Bartalos, who previously worked together on 1986’s Spookies. These two were instrumental in not only the look of Brain Damage and Aylmer’s iconic design, but also guaranteeing that Henenlotter’s wild whims were doable. Brain Damage is a tight horror movie, but one that’s not lacking in gruesome set pieces that showcase Henenlotter, Magliochetti, and Bartalos’ creativity.
An internal look into Brian’s brain and organs as Aylmer’s blue juice seeps into his bloodstream and takes him over becomes a running motif through the film. Brain Damage plays with not just practical effects and monsters, but internal dioramas, miniatures ,and inspired uses of limited animation that amplify these ideas. James Wan’s Malignant has been compared to Basket Case, but it has just as much in common with Brain Damage. Wan’s gonzo horror movie would have even benefitted through the use of several of the unnerving tools that Henenlotter puts to use with Aylmer and Brian here.
There is no shortage of ridiculous Aylmer moments throughout Brain Damage. However, the craziest of the lot–and one that actually prompted crewmembers to walk out during the shoot because they were so uncomfortable with the imagery–involves Brian, Aylmer, a poor clubber, and one of the most extremely absurd acts of simulated fellatio that’s ever been committed to film. It’s a surreal sight that makes tentacle porn look tame in comparison. The sequence is a grotesque testament to the boundaries that Henenlotter was delightedly ready to push and fully laugh at while doing so. It’s a scene that’s completely over the top, but at the same time it manages to shine a light on the disturbing relationship that’s shared between drugs, addiction, and sex. Another horrific highlight includes the withdrawal-triggered hallucination where Brian spends close to a full minute yanking brain tissue and ropey organs out of his head until litres of blood gush out of his brain-less noggin.
Brain Damage rubs the audience’s face in its brutality while it simultaneously blows raspberries on their bellies. This trippy experience grows increasingly surreal through kaleidoscopic displays of light and a much more inspired use of color than any of the other films in Henenlotter’s oeuvre. At times the washed out hues and musical score combine into dreamlike visuals that feel downright Lynchian, or that they’re out of an Alejandro Jodorowsky or James Wan film. Brian is bathed in blue light for most of the movie. It’s really quite special. Henenlotter attempts something greater here–and succeeds–amidst all the silly, slapstick blood and guts. It’s just a shame that these impressionistic influences and the ambitious color palette doesn’t inform Henenlotter’s subsequent movies and that he instead goes back to the “safety” of Basket Case, albeit on a significantly grander scale.
Horror is a genre that’s ideal to deconstruct addiction and there are evocative movies like Hellraiser, The Shining, The Stuff, and even 2013’s Evil Dead that effectively use grim subject matter as a parallel for pain, guilt, and helplessness. Brain Damage explores addiction and if we’re strong enough to defeat it, albeit through fantastical, horrible circumstances. Even Henenlotter’s decision to change the film’s title from its original “Elmer the Parasite” label to Brain Damage, a name that’s more reflective of the real-life cautions that surround recreational drug abuse, speaks volumes for the film’s goals. Henenlotter admits that this is a rather glib and surface level reading of the film and that these ideas are meant to trigger grander discussions on escapism, but they’re still undeniably present throughout the movie.
Aylmer directly acknowledges the parallels here and blatantly tells Brian that he’s in control of him now and the one who calls the shots. This works and creates tension because Brian is literally under Aylmer’s spell and the withdrawal from not being under his influence is tantamount to torture. It’s simultaneously heartbreaking and terrifying, not to mention such a creative spin on the evil alien parasite trope. This reaches its apex when Brian’s body begins to decay during the film’s final act, which seems like an intentional nod towards the crack epidemic and AIDS/HIV crisis of the 1980s as individuals watched their bodies change and wither away.
Aylmer tells Brian in a chilling proclamation: “This is the start of your new life Brian. A life full of colors, music, light, and euphoria. A life without pain, or hurt, or suffering.” It’s exactly the type of narcissistic diatribe that gives an addict strength. Brian complains that he can’t think or feel while under Aylmer’s influence. He’s numb. He’s unable to even remember his actions, as if he’s acted in a drunken or drug-filled stupor. He’s devoid of the color, music, and light, only to be left with confusion and guilt.
Funnily enough, 1988’s Brain Damage draws several parallels to the larger drug campaigns of the late ’80s. The shots of Brian’s malfunctioning brain while Aylmer’s blue leaks into his lobes feels reminiscent of the “this is your brain on drugs” commercials that started in 1987. Furthermore, Nancy Reagan’s “Just Say No” campaign that gained momentum in the mid-’80s was still fully in swing during Brain Damage’s release.
Brain Damage covers a lot of ground and in addition to how it succeeds as a drug and addiction parable, there are also shades of Little Shop of Horrors and even Let the Right One In when it comes to the selfless sacrifice that’s required to care for and feed a creature, as well as deal with the repercussions as an attachment forms…although Brain Damage is infinitely grosser than both of these films combined. Brain Damage even has flashes of Brechtian black box dream sequences that echo what would later define Jonathan Glazer’s distinct body horror film, Under the Skin.
There’s an intimate moment in Brain Damage where Aylmer sings an original jaunty tune while Brian weeps in fear and pain. It’s bizarrely comical, yet the sequence certainly isn’t played for laughs. “Please help me,” Brian croaks out while Aylmer continues to croon. This all culminates into a disturbing sequence that makes the audience question if they’re perhaps losing it, just like Brian. Brain Damage’s singing sequence shouldn’t work and yet it’s one of the best moments in the movie, and one that’s purely character-driven.
There’s an equally auteur-like moment where Henenlotter decides to connect the dots between his movies and forge his own cinematic universe when Basket Case’s Duane Bradley (Kevin Van Hentenryck) meets Brain Damage’s Brian. These two parallel characters run into each other on the subway in a sequence that’s so brilliant, but completely confounding to anyone who hasn’t seen Henenlotter’s previous picture. Henenlotter doesn’t care and this unnecessary sequence speaks to the filmmaker’s fearless and playful energy where he just wants to play with all of his toys in the same sandbox. Brain Damage is fueled with the gleeful joy of a kid who’s just having fun.
Brain Damage is a movie that consistently goes for broke with every scene, particularly its ambitious, cosmic ending. Brain Damage’s bleak coda also implies that the only true cure for addiction is death. Henenlotter was able to persevere through his own addictions, but in Brian’s case there’s no possibility for a happy ending. It’s a conclusion that provokes much more debate than Basket Case and this stylized finish would have been exciting for Henenlotter to attempt to follow-up in subsequent Brain Damage films. It’s tempting to consider where these ideas and lore could go considering how ridiculous Basket Case 3 becomes. Ultimately, the biggest disappointment about Brain Damage is that there aren’t more of these movies.
Frank Henenlotter has slowly gained the respect that he deserves over time even if that means it’s taken Brain Damage decades to be fully appreciated and readily available. 35 years later, Brain Damage is both a twisted snapshot of the changing state of horror–and society–in the 1980s, as well as an ahead of its time body horror buddy comedy extravaganza. Both Aylmer, and Brain Damage, promise “a life without pain, or hurt, or suffering,” but a life without Brain Damage is one that’s missing out on a brilliant horror cult classic.
Soon after the New Hollywood generation took over the entertainment industry, they started having children. And more than any filmmakers that came before—they were terrified. Rosemary’s Baby (1968), The Exorcist (1973), The Omen (1976), Eraserhead (1977), The Brood (1979), The Shining (1980), Possession (1981), and many others all deal, at least in part, with the fears of becoming or being a parent. What if my child turns out to be a monster? is corrupted by some evil force? or turns out to be the fucking Antichrist? What if I screw them up somehow, or can’t help them, or even go insane and try to kill them? Horror has always been at its best when exploring relatable fears through extreme circumstances. A prime example of this is Larry Cohen’s 1974 monster-baby movie It’s Alive, which explores the not only the rollercoaster of emotions that any parent experiences when confronted with the difficulties of raising a child, but long-standing questions of who or what is at fault when something goes horribly wrong.
Cohen begins making his underlying points early in the film as Frank Davis (John P. Ryan) discusses the state of the world with a group of expectant fathers in a hospital waiting room. They discuss the “overabundance of lead” in foods and the environment, smog, and pesticides that only serve to produce roaches that are “bigger, stronger, and harder to kill.” Frank comments that this is “quite a world to bring a kid into.” This has long been a discussion point among people when trying to decide whether to have kids or not. I’ve had many conversations with friends who have said they feel it’s irresponsible to bring children into such a violent, broken, and dangerous world, and I certainly don’t begrudge them this. My wife and I did decide to have children but that doesn’t mean that it’s been easy.
Immediately following this scene comes It’s Alive’s most famous sequence in which Frank’s wife Lenore (Sharon Farrell) is the only person left alive in her delivery room, the doctors clawed and bitten to death by her mutant baby, which has escaped. “What does my baby look like!? What’s wrong with my baby!?” she screams as nurses wheel her frantically into a recovery room. The evening that had begun with such joy and excitement at the birth of their second child turned into a nightmare. This is tough for me to write, but on some level, I can relate to this whiplash of emotion. When my second child was born, they came about five weeks early. I’ll use the pronouns “they/them” for privacy reasons when referring to my kids. Our oldest was still very young and went to stay with my parents and we sped off to the hospital where my wife was taken into an operating room for an emergency c-section. I was able to carry our newborn into the NICU (natal intensive care unit) where I was assured that this was routine for all premature births. The nurses assured me there was nothing to worry about and the baby looked big and healthy. I headed to where my wife was taken to recover to grab a few winks assuming that everything was fine. Well, when I awoke, I headed back over to the NICU to find that my child was not where I left them. The nurse found me and told me that the baby’s lungs were underdeveloped, and they had to put them in a special room connected to oxygen tubes and wires to monitor their vitals.
It’s difficult to express the fear that overwhelmed me in those moments. Everything turned out okay, but it took a while and I’m convinced to this day that their anxiety struggles spring from these first weeks of life. As our children grew, we learned that two of the three were on the spectrum and that anxiety, depression, ADHD, and OCD were also playing a part in their lives. Parents, at least speaking for myself, can’t help but blame themselves for the struggles their children face. The “if only” questions creep in and easily overcome the voices that assure us that it really has nothing to do with us. In the film, Lenore says, “maybe it’s all the pills I’ve been taking that brought this on.” Frank muses aloud about how he used to think that Frankenstein was the monster, but when he got older realized he was the one that made the monster. The aptly named Frank is wondering if his baby’s mutation is his fault, if he created the monster that is terrorizing Los Angeles. I have made plenty of “if only” statements about myself over the years. “If only I hadn’t had to work so much, if only I had been around more when they were little.” Mothers may ask themselves, “did I have a drink, too much coffee, or a cigarette before I knew I was pregnant? Was I too stressed out during the pregnancy?” In other words, most parents can’t help but wonder if it’s all their fault.
At one point in the film, Frank goes to the elementary school where his baby has been sighted and is escorted through the halls by police. He overhears someone comment about “screwed up genes,” which brings about age-old questions of nature vs. nurture. Despite the voices around him from doctors and detectives that say, “we know this isn’t your fault,” Frank can’t help but think it is, and that the people who try to tell him it isn’t really think it’s his fault too. There is no doubt that there is a hereditary element to the kinds of mental illness struggles that my children and I deal with. But, and it’s a bit but, good parenting goes a long way in helping children deal with these struggles. Kids need to know they’re not alone, a good parent can provide that, perhaps especially parents that can relate to the same kinds of struggles. The question of nature vs. nurture will likely never be entirely answered but I think there’s more than a good chance that “both/and” is the case. Around the midpoint of the film, Frank agrees to disown the child and sign it over for medical experimentation if caught or killed. Lenore and the older son Chris (Daniel Holzman) seek to nurture and teach the baby, feeling that it is not a monster, but a member of the family.
It’s Alive takes these ideas to an even greater degree in the fact that the Davis Baby really is a monster, a mutant with claws and fangs that murders and eats people. The late ’60s and early ’70s also saw the rise in mass murderers and serial killers which heightened the nature vs. nurture debate. Obviously, these people were not literal monsters but human beings that came from human parents, but something had gone horribly wrong. Often the upbringing of these killers clearly led in part to their antisocial behavior, but this isn’t always the case. It’s Alive asks “what if a ‘monster’ comes from a good home?” In this case is it society, environmental factors, or is it the lead, smog, and pesticides? It is almost impossible to know, but the ending of the film underscores an uncomfortable truth—even monsters have parents.
As the film enters its third act, Frank joins the hunt for his child through the Los Angeles sewers and into the L.A. River. He is armed with a rifle and ready to kill on sight, having divorced himself from any relationship to the child. Then Frank finds his baby crying in the sewers and his fatherly instincts take over. With tears in his eyes, he speaks words of comfort and wraps his son in his coat. He holds him close, pats and rocks him, and whispers that everything is going to be okay. People often wonder how the parents of those who perform heinous acts can sit in court, shed tears, and defend them. I think it’s a complex issue. I’m sure that these parents know that their child has done something evil, but that doesn’t change the fact that they are still their baby. Your child is a piece of yourself formed into a whole new human being. Disowning them would be like cutting off a limb, no matter what they may have done. It doesn’t erase an evil act, far from it, but I can understand the pain of a parent in that situation. I think It’s Alive does an exceptional job placing its audience in that situation.
Despite the serious issues and ideas being examined in the film, It’s Alive is far from a dour affair. At heart, it is still a monster movie and filled with a sense of fun and a great deal of pitch-black humor. In one of its more memorable moments, a milkman is sucked into the rear compartment of his truck as red blood mingles with the white milk from smashed bottles leaking out the back of the truck and streaming down the street. Just after Frank agrees to join the hunt for his baby, the film cuts to the back of an ice cream truck with the words “STOP CHILDREN” emblazoned on it. It’s a movie filled with great kills, a mutant baby—created by make-up effects master Rick Baker early in his career, and plenty of action—and all in a PG rated movie! I’m telling you, the ’70s were wild. It just also happens to have some thoughtful ideas behind it as well.
Which was Larry Cohen’s specialty. Cohen made all kinds of movies, but his most enduring have been his horror films and all of them tackle the social issues and fears of the time they were made. God Told Me To (1976), Q: The Winged Serpent (1982), and The Stuff (1985) are all great examples of his socially aware, low-budget, exploitation filmmaking with a brain and It’s Alive certainly fits right in with that group. Cohen would go on to write and direct two sequels, It Lives Again (aka It’s Alive 2) in 1978 and It’s Alive III: Island of the Alive in 1987 and is credited as a co-writer on the 2008 remake. All these films explore the ideas of parental responsibility in light of the various concerns of the times they were made including abortion rights and AIDS.
Fifty years after It’s Alive was initially released, it has only become more relevant in the ensuing years. Fears surrounding parenthood have been with us since the beginning of time but as the years pass the reasons for these fears only seem to become more and more profound. In today’s world the conversation of the fathers in the waiting room could be expanded to hormones and genetic modifications in food, terrorism, climate change, school and other mass shootings, and other threats that were unknown or at least less of a concern fifty years ago. Perhaps the fearmongering conspiracy theories about chemtrails and vaccines would be mentioned as well, though in a more satirical fashion, as fears some expectant parents encounter while endlessly doomscrolling Facebook or Twitter. Speaking for myself, despite the struggles, the fears, and the sadness that sometimes comes with having children, it’s been worth it. The joys ultimately outweigh all of that, but I understand the terror too. Becoming a parent is no easy choice, nor should it be. But as I look back, I can say that I’m glad we made the choice we did.
I wonder if Frank and Lenore can say the same thing.
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