Parasomnia

 (I first posted this review online in 2010 and almost immediately received an email from director William Malone, who was not at all happy with my review. Tough shit. I stand by my review, and since Trump's "Pussygate" is still ruling the headlines, I think it's more important than ever to address the issue of women portrayed as one-dimensional sex objects in any media. Time to stop romanticizing sexual abuse, guys.)

Remember the furor that erupted within the vehemently Anti-Twilight crowd upon learning that sparkly vampire heartthrob Edward Cullen was little more than a common stalker who followed Bella wherever she went and even went so far as to sit in her bedroom and watch her sleep every night? Well, Parasomnia takes the “stalking is romantic” premise several thousand steps further, beyond the realm of creepiness and straight into “buy everyone involved with this film a paperback copy of Gavin de Becker’s book The Gift Of Fear IMMEDIATELY” territory.

Danny Sloan is a loser. And I don’t like to throw the word “loser” around vicariously, unlike some bosses I've had. But Danny really is an insipid, crudely drawn loser of a boy who, as the film opens, has just been dumped by his exasperated girlfriend who has finally gotten tired of Danny’s utter failure to respect her feelings. But Danny soon finds a replacement for the high-maintenance ex in the form of a semi-comatose sleeping beauty who is currently a patient at the same hospital where his dorky best buddy is drying out.

Kidnap in progress.

 Fortunately, Danny has stumbled upon the one hospital in the United States where you can wander freely about, happy-assholing your way unobserved and unescorted through the psychiatric wing, despite the fact that every psych-ward I’ve ever seen is triple locked from both sides and heavily guarded to boot, mostly to prevent the patients from escaping and running amok. Look, don’t ask how I know, I just do.

Danny is also lucky enough to find a chatty doctor who doesn’t give a single shit about patient confidentiality and gladly fills Danny in on Sleeping Beauty’s condition. Her name is Laura and she suffers from a rare condition called parasomnia. Laura has spent most of her life asleep, but fortunately is never without lip gloss or ivory bisque foundation. She’s also scheduled to be moved to a different institution in a few days, where a medical staff awaits to play with her brain.

Laura is the perfect girlfriend: she’s dumb, sleeps a lot and is pretty. So Danny does what any budding psychopath would do and kidnaps her, returning with her to his squalid dump and eagerly bathing and fondling her while she sleeps. Ew. Oh, and she also pees herself and crawls around on all fours with a dog's chew toy in her mouth. How cute. She's a girlfriend, she's a pet, she's both of those things and so much more! Gross.

Too bad Laura already has a boyfriend of sorts, and he’s far more psychotic than Danny could ever hope to be. With the Svengali-esque serial killer/boyfriend stalking Laura in her dreams, and cop Jeffrey Combs closing in on Danny, it’s only a matter of time before the shit hits the proverbial fan. And I mean “shit” in the very literal sense of the word.


This.
Movie.
Hurts.

It’s not so much “bad” as it is just very lame and excruciatingly creepy. Watching Danny treat Laura like a sex doll is not entertaining or amusing, and it sure as hell isn’t romantic. It’s sickening, and I have to wonder about the mind that put this shit to paper; specifically, how did they squeeze scriptwriting into their hectic schedule of sending love letters written in peanut butter and urine to the hapless girl who works the night shift at the Burger King on the corner?

I had hope for this film. Maybe not high hopes, but reasonably elevated ones. The trailer led me to believe that I was in for a candy colored carnival sideshow steampunk spectacular, rich with nightmarish landscapes and childhood horrors. There’s some of that in there, mostly towards the end, but it’s not worth the wait. Throw in the fact that William Malone recycles his stick-monster from the Masters Of Horror episode “The Fair Haired Child” and honestly, the whole thing left me feeling profoundly gypped.

Parasomnia definitely made me shudder, but for all the wrong reasons. I shuddered for the girl who might view this and come away believing that kidnapping and molestation equals true love, for the guy who thinks stalking is healthy and acceptable, and for Jeffrey Combs, who deserves better than this.

I wanted to like this. I really did. It had everything going for it: a unique look, a decent cast and a story which, if not totally original (see the silent classic “The Cabinet Of Dr. Caligari” if you don’t believe me) was at least different from the thousands of shitty slasher films still getting churned out on a regular basis. But ultimately, Parasomnia is just a cringe-inducing mess. And no, I don't care that this was Malone's pet project, written and financed all by himself out of love. It's sick. It's vile. It's fucking insulting.

I do not, and will never, understand the ass-cheek polishing this one got from so many critics, male and female alike, although I suspect an unwillingness to dare and insult anything done by an official Master Of Horror was reason #1 - plus, shitty reviews don't usually snag a featured spot in Fangoria. And this is why I no longer write reviews for anyone but my own damn self.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go clean out my vagina with a wire brush and some industrial strength Ajax. Just…yuck.