The Demon

I won’t tell you.                                                                                     

Not…how to read volumes by simple touch.                                    

Never…to know when ripe vibrant woman

is ready…for lunch.

I won’t tell you

for what you think of me…

Scalded notions too absurd,

Dwelt upon where only fears are heard

Child splendor, cast out vagrant…

And I only prodding you more…

To be something that could reach heaven’s door.

Copyright c June 2001 James C. Horak

On occasion we find a story that approaches the magnificent potentials of which we find but transitory clue for what lies deep within. Touching our dreams, revealed in part by our fantasy excursions of what gives life and breadth to imagination, such times we can all find some degree of assonance with the wonderous.  In Headspace, such potential lies only to be sold out to some Mexican-like horror movie made in the sixties. Problematic complexity, various anomaly of huge interest are all overlooked to focus on blood and gore…and that not well done. More confused than otherwise, the viewer doesn’t even really know at any one time if one scene is actual or imagined, if one rampage occurred or is merely anticipated.

On one hand chess variations are explained expertly, on the other the viewer is left holding the bag to enjoin any continuity scene to scene, any point to a series of events from the perspective of the actor or actors involved. As if the ingredients were all prepared as a stew instead of carefully scripted. The priest says this, the former Soviet parapsychologist says that and in the middle is an interdimensional demon tearing those luckless enough to come into contact with our protagonist apart.

No matter that mental feats reflect on many documented anomaly, that science must admit untapped, even unimagined potentials lie inside us all yet to be accessed. No, we have to have a Mexican-like sixties vintage horror flick that ends with all participants heaped up on the garbage pile because they transgressed conventional belief…went beyond religious “containments”. Heaven and hell must again be defined and all put back right with the world. What a bunch of clap trap this tale of  wonderful potential becomes!

Indeed it is not the actors fault. Flawless performances are given by Christopher Denham and Eric Kastel. Always enjoyable is the acting of Udo Kier as the priest. The lovely Sean Young is killed early on, as is the always menacing, William Atherton. As for the directing and script writing…better left unsaid. I wouldn’t claim it, but just make some lame excuse about running out of money while being attacked by a herd of elephants from an adjacent set.

Not recommended. Only reviewed so I could opportunistically throw in a poem.

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