Brainscan (1994) review

Dir. John Flynn

By: Steve Pulaski

Rating: ★★★

To explain Brainscan is to do two things: contort yourself into making the zaniness of its premise make sense and also reveal yourself to be one who is unafraid to explore the strange underbelly of campy 90s cinema.

The twilight of the 20th century saw a fair share of strange films made about the dawn of the home computer and the increasing popularity of video games. On that note, Brainscan feels like the demented, R-rated step-cousin of The Wizard, the feature-length advertisement for Nintendo from 1989. Its premise is cockamamie, but its characters, as well as its practical effects, are convincing. It’s liable to wrap you up in its surreal narrative more than you’re willing to admit, even if it does fall prey to some questionable messaging.

Brainscan revolves around Michael Bower (Edward Furlong), a teenager who lives an isolated existence in his dad’s basement following a car accident that killed his mom and nearly took his leg. His basement is a lair where a computerized character named Igor takes/makes his phone-calls (responding, “yes, master” to his every request), video games and heavy metal CDs are at his disposal, his cute neighbor, Kimberly (Amy Hargreaves), and her bedroom window are within leering distance, and his misfit friend, Kyle (Jamie Marsh), sometimes comes over to hang.

It’s Kyle who tells Michael about a new ultra-realistic video game called “Brainscan,” which he promptly orders. When he plays the first CD-ROM, he’s greeted by the game’s mascot, Trickster (T. Ryder Smith), who puts him under a hypnotic spell. The first mission involves murdering a complete stranger asleep in his bed. Michael “awakes” shocked yet excited by the thrilling experience. The following morning, Michael’s parents are watching news coverage of a very similar murder on television, one that rocks their otherwise quiet community.

Trickster eventually leaps out of the TV to encourage Michael to keep playing; “Brainscan” is a game comprised of four discs. The methods he uses to convince the already-horrified Michael to continue the experience are pushier than a used car salesman. Let’s talk about Trickster for a moment. Enthusiastically portrayed by Smith, he’s a menace with the resemblance of Alice Cooper with all the smart-ass quips of Beetlegeuse. He introduces himself to Michael by showing he’s immune to torture, should he be questioned by police: he electrocutes himself, breaks each of his fingers, and even gouges his eyes, returning to form in a matter of seconds. He’s a disgusting little cretin, otherwise known as an absolutely perfect mascot. Meanwhile, Michael has occasional brushes with Frank Langella’s Detective Hayden, prompting him to grow suspicious.

When you have a premise this wacky, it’s best to milk it for all its worth. That’s what screenwriter Andrew Kevin Walker (who would later go on to pen Se7en) does, smartly staging Michael’s experience with each “Brainscan” disc differently to avoid repetition. His interactions with Detective Hayden are chilling thanks to Langella giving his trademark gravitas to otherwise B-grade material.

However, it’s Smith’s world and we’re just living in it. His exuberance turns up the film’s wackiness and prevents it from becoming a downtrodden experience about a teenager’s willful descent into murder. A premise like this could’ve been burdened by reality, but Walker uses Trickster to evoke a humorous sci-fi edge that ultimately keeps things light.

Brainscan‘s detriment is the way it slaps its target audience in the face with its messaging, which suggests that a steady diet of horror movies and video games is unhealthy for the human mind. That might be true, but it’s also a little sad to see Michael realize this to the extent that he smashes his entire collection with a baseball bat. The idea is that Michael has spent much of his life as a shut-in, and should be valuing real-life experiences more than virtual ones. Perhaps this could’ve been better articulated than having the film’s climax set at a kegger party next door, even if the sentiment is well-intentioned. That kind of move feels like a buzzkill after nearly 90 minutes of loony madness that sees a film deliver on its promise.

Starring: Edward Furlong, Frank Langella, T. Ryder Smith, Amy Hargreaves, and Jamie Marsh. Directed by: John Flynn.