Viscera and Other Tales

Shit Gets in Your Head

"There's a new independent feature sweeping the nation, Fredrick Dillinger's 'Frenzied' is a disturbing trek through the mind of an insane individual and his deepening obsession with witchcraft and dark arts. Shot in a found footage style, the film has left audiences shaken with many not even able to make it to the final act. Later tonight our resident critic Daniel Sterns will share his thoughts on it. In other news..."

I shut the tv off and looked down at my ticket. I had waited in line for hours to ensure I'd be among the first to see it once it came to town.

The year was 1999. I was 16 years old and all I cared about was horror movies. I was desensitized to the worst of the worst. Even Cannibal Holocaust didn't shake me.

Now all horror loving eyes were on 'Frenzied', said to be the scariest film since 'The Exorcist' (a designation given to many, many films). I had been anticipating it for months, Fangoria had done a full spread on it, interviews with the cast, the director, articles about walkouts during film festivals. All music to my ears.

The trailer was foreboding, mostly consisting of quotes from audience members about how absolutely terrifying it was. Most of the footage from the movie was blurry shots of various horrifying type scenarios with a claim that the film was 'so scary we can't even show you most of it!'

It was brilliant marketing, holding back as much as possible, build curiosity, get the word spread and make it a must see. I had fallen for it hook, line, and sinker.

I looked to my watch.

7:00 pm. Time to head for the theater. It was a 9:30 showing but I wanted to get at least somewhat decent seats. I knew there was most likely already people waiting there in line, ready to run in and get the best seats.

I didn't need great seats, just serviceable ones.

I hopped into my car and drove down to the theater, my mind racing with excitement at finally being able to see 'the scariest film in years!' at least according to the poster.

I arrived and, as expected, there was already a line inside, waiting for the go-ahead to rush into the auditorium and claim seats. I took my place at the end, not too worried by the amount of people in front of me. There was a handful but I probably wouldn't be stuck in the front row or anything.

As I stood there, twiddling my thumbs, a man approached and took his place beside me. He was tall and bearded and his shirt was the film's icon: an upside down crucifix with a snake wrapped around it.

"Hey man how's it going." He said, a smile resting on his face.

"Pretty good." I answered. "I'm pumped to finally watch this."

"Tell me about it. I hope it scares the ever loving shit outta me."

I chuckled and was getting ready to respond when the usher gave us permission to finally enter the theater. The crowd rushed in, I mostly stayed out of the way and, once people were getting settled, made my way towards the middle seats. My favorite area to sit.

The pre-trailer trivia (did you know T_M H_ _ NK_ was the star of Forrest Gump?) and local advertisements came onscreen, then the normal trailers popped up and finally the call for audiences to be quiet.

It was finally time for 'Frenzied' to start.

There were no studio logos as text faded onto the screen:

"In November 1997 a family was murdered in a bizarre, cult like fashion. The case was cold until Summer 1998 when this tape was found at a local garage sale. It is unknown who brought the tape, nor who is on the footage.

Everything you're about to see is real."

There were a few giggles from the audience probably from people who had read the same articles as me, interviews with the cast and filmmakers, everything pointing to the fact that this was a very, very fictional film.

The film begins with a shaky shot of the outside of a house. There's a slight zoom and through the window we see a family enjoying dinner. Heavy breathing clouds the film as it quickly cuts to the inside of a house. There's a man sitting on the floor, legs crossed. He's rocking back and forth and muttering to himself, I can't understand him.

His whispers sound like they're getting louder so I lean forward to hear better.

I'm picking up fragments of words. I can't take my eyes off the screen. Anxiety is rising in my stomach. Nothing's happening, but I'm scared.

He's rocking back and forth. Back and forth. Back and...

I'm in the room. On the floor and rocking. Whispering.

In one hand I'm holding a small bowl filled to the brim with red liquid. I take my hand and dip it in. It's sticky and thick.

I pull my hand out and draw a small symbol on the floor with my fingers. It's a cross, upside down. I zig zag a line around it, in my head I know it's a representation of a snake.

I stand up and grab my camera and head outside. I make my way to my car and get in. This isn't my car, but it is. I'm this man, but I'm not.

There is still blood on my fingers.

My vision cuts and I'm outside the house again. The family is inside. I hear whispers in my head.

"It's them." It says. "He wants them."

I'm filming them. A mom, a dad, three daughters, a son. They look happy. Content.

But he wants them.

When I blink, my visions cuts again. I'm back at home. There's a book in front of me. The writings are smudged and winding. They flow down the page and bleed from one to the other. I'm reading them to myself, my voice is hoarse but I do not stop.

"Passion, for he requires the sacrifice." I say. "All debts must be paid."

I hear laughs in my head.

When I blink, I am outside the house. The parents are tucking the kids into bed on the top floor. There's a weight on my left shoulder. A duffel bag.

I'm watching the mother and father move to the downstairs living room. They sit in front of the tv and hold each other. Happiness.

"Sacrifice. Pay with them or pay with yourself. But he requires multiple." The voice says.

I nod my head and being to skulk toward the house. I go to the front door and turn the knob. It's unlocked. I crack the door open slightly and open up my duffel bag. There's a claw hammer inside, along with my books and camera. I'll need those later. I pick up the hammer and camera and make my way in.

They're sitting on the couch, they don't hear me walk up behind them. I raise the hammer and smash it into the husband's head. It's stuck. His wife is screaming. She tries to run but at that moment I break the hammer free and give chase. I don't drop the camera.

I chase her around and finally catch up to her. I bash her too. I get it all on camera. I turn towards the stairs and make my way up them.

To the bedrooms.

Suddenly, I was back in the theater. The lights were coming on and the credits began rolling.

My hands were shaking and pale. I felt like throwing up. I pushed myself up from the seat and started to make my way towards the exit.

"Jeez that was pretty shit wasn't it?" One girl says.

"Yeah," her friend responds, "I don't get the hype."

Next to me is the man that was in line. "Tsk. I thought it was great."

He looks over to me with a shocked expression on his face.

"Jesus bud, you ok?"

I shake my head before rushing to the trash can outside the auditorium. I throw up and collapse on the floor next to it.

The man kneels down next to me.

"Damn that movie did a real number on ya, huh? It was pretty disturbing though." He says.

"Shit gets in your head."