Scanners (David Cronenberg, 1981)

Imagine not being able to, oh, let's say, ride the bus without the ability to drown out the thoughts of the other passengers. I think most people would agree that the constant of barrage of inner inanity would slowly erode a person's mental well-being. Luckily for us, we have no idea what other people are thinking. However, to a small segment of the population who exist in the world of David Cronenberg's Scanners, the scenario I just described is all too real. It should be noted, however, that, yes, it's true, most people can't read people's minds. But for a brief moment there, I did have to listen to other people's conversations (which are like thoughts, but more verbal). You see, when the mobile phone first started to become an acceptable mode of communication within the non-brain surgeon/non-drug dealing community, I felt like I was being inundated with pointless bather non-stop. It was only when talking on the phone became passe (eventually replaced by texting) that I felt secure that my brain cells would not have to be subjected to such tediousness. Every once and awhile I'll hear someone talking loudly on their phone. But since they're usually speaking a language I don't understand, I try not to get too bent out of shape about it. Oh, and just to let you know, I have a strict "No English Allowed" policy on my bus.

Anyway, getting back to Scanners. Does anyone know if Margaret Gadbois, who plays "Woman in Mall," was wearing a full slip or a half slip underneath her dress? The only reason I ask is because I'm a huge pervert. Just kidding. But seriously, does anyone know?

The reason I ask is because the sight of Margaret's not quite middle-aged, not quite elderly gams kicking and flailing on the floor of a mall food court is the first image to grab my attention in this film, which, should come as no surprise, explores the destructive nature of the human body.

According to David Cronenberg, the human body (specifically the human brain) propels us forward, but ultimately let's us down.

(What caused Margaret's oldish legs to flail so violently?) What are you doing, man? I was trying to make a profound point. (You already made that point in your review of David Cronenberg's Rabid.) I did? Let me check... Well would you look at that...

If that's the case, let's get back to talking about those kicking and flailing old lady legs, shall we? Like I said earlier, the legs belong to an oldish woman who is sitting in a mall foot court with a friend. Noticing a mildly dishevelled man eating scraps of food off the bolted-down tables that have recently been vacated, the woman and her gal pal start to think disparaging thoughts about him. The reason we can hear their thoughts is because the man, Cameron Vale (Stephen Lack), is a scanner, the name given to a powerful group of telepaths.

Except, Cameron doesn't know he's a scanner. Nevertheless, while attempting to block out the women's thoughts, Cameron inadvertently causes one of the women (the leggy one wearing the full or maybe half slip underneath her dress) to convulse on the food court floor.

As she twitches violently (her friend and some passersby try to calm her), two creepy dudes in trench-coats begin to pursue Cameron through the mall. After a brief chase, the men eventually shoot Cameron with a tranquilizer dart and take him to a warehouse run by CONSEC, a Blackwater-style security company, who, in the grand tradition of David Cronenberg films, are shady as fuck.

Lulled into thinking he's amongst friends, Cameron is given a drug that will help him suppress his powers (or "quiet the voices") by Dr. Paul Ruth (Patrick McGoohan), the world's foremost scanner expert.

Meanwhile, over at CONSEC's main headquarters, a scanner is giving an audience a demonstration of what a scanner can do. Asking for a volunteer from the audience, the scanner... oh shit! (Don't tell me, another woman just showed her slip while being scanned.) No, the audience member who volunteered is played by Michael Ironside. (You're right. Oh shit.) This does not bode well for that scanner's mental health. *splaaaaat!* Wow, now that was quite the understatement.

Irked that a scanner was able to infiltrate their organization and cause their scanner (the only one they had on the payroll) severe cranial distress, CONSEC hire Braendon Keller (Lawrence Dane) as their new head of security.

While the hiring of Keller is initially seen as a step in the right direction, Dr. Ruth manages to convince the CONSEC higher-ups that the only way to stop a scanner is to use another scanner. And that's where Cameron Vale comes in.

Sent on a mission by CONSEC to infiltrate the so-called "scanner underground," Cameron Vale goes literally head-to-head with Daryl Revok (Michael Ironside), the world's most powerful and therefore most dangerous scanner.

Culminating in an epic battle, one that will test the structural integrity of his mind, Cameron Vale quickly discovers that not all scanners are socially awkward misfits. Some have plans to take over the world, while others are merely content to look awesome in high-neck knitwear; I'm looking in your general direction, Jennifer O'Neill, from Lucio Fulci's The Psychic.

In one of the film's best scenes, Cameron Vale also discovers that he can hack high security computer systems simply by picking up the phone.

Boasting top-notch make-up effects (especially during the scanner showdown), an appropriately throb-friendly film score by Howard Shore and the always terrific Michael Ironside (in what is easily one of his best roles), Scanners does an excellent job of mixing the silly with the cerebral. Which, and I think most people will agree with this, is the key to making a successful David Cronenberg film.

The Psychic (Lucio Fulci, 1977)

Just a second, I want to listen to the theme music from this film one more time before I officially begin. And...done.  Because I just did that, I have to change my plans. You see, I was all set to fire my opening salvo of hyperbolic praise in the general direction of costume designer  Massimo Lentini–and I still plan on doing so... lavishing praise on them, that is–but to ignore the music of Franco Bixio, Fabio Frizzi and Vince Tempera in Lucio Fulci's The Psychic (a.k.a. Seven Notes in Black) right out of the gate would be foolhardy, as it dominates the proceedings with an atmospheric elan. Okay, now that I got that out of the way, let's talk about that fall, shall we? Didn't you think the tone of the cliff suicide scene that opens the film was a little misleading? Holy crap, I was thinking the exact same thing. Yeah, yeah, most directors, when filming a scene like this, would show a close-up shot of the face of the distraught individual about to jump to their death and then pull back just when they're about to leap. But not Lucio Fulci. He knows the person doing the jumping will probably hit their head, or, in this case, their face, on the jaggedy cliff as they plummet towards the rocky beach below at a high rate of speed. And in order to capture these hits, he makes sure we see every thud in lurid detail. Of course, your initial reaction to such a scene might be disgust. However, you've got to remember, the jumper's daughter can see everything; she is, after all, psychic. And in order to highlight the impact (no pun intended) this event will have on the jumper's daughter in coming years, we're shown the grisly results of every face-ruining smash. Oh, and the reason I said the scene was "misleading" was because there's nothing else in the film that comes close topping it in terms of over-the-top, Fulci-friendly gore.

Don't fret, horror fans, Lucio Fulci has decided instead to deliver a highly effective psychological thriller that boasts a fashion-forward female protagonist at its core. I'm no expert on such matters, but I think horror fans prefer gory mayhem to films that boast fashion-forward female protagonists. They do?!? If that's the case, they should start fretting then. Hell, they might even have to sit this one out. I, on the other hand, will happily gnaw on this film's asparagus-flavoured burlap crotch in their place; they can use the free time they have from not watching this film to iron their horror shirts.

I'll admit, given Lucio Fulci's reputation, I was hoping for a bit of a gore-fest as well. On the other hand, when I realized this wasn't going to be your typical Lucio Fulci film (even though he's made film's in almost every genre imaginable, he was best known for gory horror flicks during this particular period), I quickly adjusted my attitude to one that fit the overall tone this film was putting out there.

Since I've already spent a fair amount discussing it, I'll simply say, the film opens with a little girl in Florence, Italy back in 1959 having a vision of her mother jumping off a cliff in England. "Mommy!" she screams out, as her mother steps over the edge. Fast-forward to mid-1970s and that little girl now looks like the über-stylish Jennifer O'Neill. How a freckle-faced redhead grew up to be an elegant brunette who drives a Rolls-Royce is anyone's guess. Either way, Jennifer O'Neill is Virginia Ducci, the clairvoyant wife of Francesco Ducci (Gianni Garko), a man who has his own private jet; I know, ooh-la-la.

As Virginia and Francesco are driving, in their aforementioned Rolls-Royce, to the air field, "With You" by Franco Bixio, Fabio Frizzo and Vince Tempera is playing on the soundtrack. Why am I mentioning this? Well, it's a great song, that's why. One of the ways I like to stand out from the crowd when it comes to movie reviews is to occasionally point out the things I liked and disliked about the film I'm reviewing, and the song "With You" is definitely something I liked.

After watching Francesco's plane take off, Virginia attempts to drive herself back to the house. "Attempts"? Yeah, it would seem that Virginia and long, dark tunnels don't get along so well. It's during the tunnel sequence, by the way, that we get our first close-up shot of Jennifer O'Neill's eyes; a Fulci trademark.

While driving through the tunnels, Virginia has a vision, one that includes a man with a limp, bricks being laid, a cigarette resting on the edge of a blue ashtray, the bloody face of an old woman, a magazine with a dark-haired woman on the cover, and a distinctive-sounding watch tone.

Clearly frazzled by the ordeal, Virginia goes to see her psychologist friend, Luca Fattori (Marc Porel), a handsome fella who likes red sweaters and seems proud of his reel-to-reel tape player. I wonder if Francesco minds that his smoking hot... Hey! Don't be crude. What? You don't call a woman like Jennifer O'Neill "smoking hot," it's beyond vulgar. What should I call her then? I've already described her as "über-stylish" and "elegant." What about "fashionable"? Okay, so, does Francesco mind that his fashionable, Bulgari jewelry-adorned wife is spending so much time with her hunky shrink? It doesn't seem so.

More psychic weirdness takes place when Virginia is checking out an old property they apparently own. As she's tidying up, she notices that the room she's in is eerily similar to the one from her vision. Fixated on a part of the wall located behind a table of some kind, Virginia grabs a pick-axe from the basement and starts whacking at the brick and plaster with all of her might. Just as she was about to give up (she may be fashionable, but she ain't no contractor), she spots a human finger amidst the rubble.

Doing what any normal person would do when they come across walled up skeletal remains, Virginia calls the police. Little does she realize, but she's made her husband the prime suspect; after all, it's his house; Italian law dictates that if you find skeletal remains, or regular remains for that matter, on your property, it's your problem.

I liked it when the policeman questioning Virginia at the scene asks her why she didn't have a contractor or a decorator with her when she was inspecting the house, and she forcefully declares, "I am a decorator!" Yeah! You tell him, girlfriend.

Even though it's blocked by a couch for most of the scene, my favourite Jennifer O'Neill article of clothing has to be the long, and I mean, long, white pleated skirt she wears during that brief period between the discovery of the walled up skeletal remains and Francesco's arrest. Now, most people would bemoan the fact that Jennifer O'Neill's body is always draped/sheathed in clothing. Well, there won't be any bemoaning on my part. I was actually quite taken with Virginia's tendency to remain covered; it also helped that her clothes, thanks to costume designer Massimo Lentini, were too chic for words.

This also applies to Francesco's sister Gloria Ducci (the fabulous Ida Galli - dig the fur hat) and Luca's secretary Bruna (the adorable Jenny Tamburi), as they remain covered up as well. Oh, and when I say, "covered up," I mean everything except their face is covered in clothing. If you're wondering about their necks, they cover them, too; thanks to a seemingly endless supply of turtleneck sweaters and scarfs.

Immediately after her husband is arrested, Virginia goes into sleuth mode. Determined to uncover the truth, Virginia attempts to piece together, with the help of Luca, Gloria and, of course, Bruna (on top of being cute as fuck, her sleuthing skills are second to none), the events of her vision. She soon discovers that what happens in her vision didn't occur in the past, but is something that is about to occur...in the future. And not only that, the events are going to happen to her.

How does one avoid being murdered, or, more specifically, walled up in a wall, when you know exactly how it's going to happen? The answer will surprise you. I don't want to even imply what I'm getting at. But let's just say the theme music I alluded to at the beginning of this review plays a significant role in relation to whether or not Virginia will live or die. I get chills just thinking about how the theme music is used in this movie; it's so freaking effective. Which is a weird thing to say, given the fact that I usually associate Lucio Fulci films with eyeballs being stabbed, not semi-intelligent plot twists. Anyway, I came away from The Psychic with a new-found respect for Lucio Fulci, as this film proved to me that there's more to Italian cinema than just gore, legs sheathed in stockings, and half empty bottles of J+B Scotch Whisky. Oh, and the theme from this movie was used in Kill Bill Vol. 1; hence the reason it might sound familiar to some of you.