Oculus is Calling



Oculus is at 100% on Rotten Tomatoes. I keep going back and forth about this movie, because it looks great and has actors I adore, but the trailer kind of reminds me of The Ring. And that movie gave me PTSD.

I’m not kidding. For months afterward if I saw a hint of static on a television, a wooden chair in the middle of a room, or an oval mirror I’d get triggered. That movie tore me apart. No other horror movie has affected me like that since. (Silent Hill has come the closest, but I was able to shake that off pretty quickly.)

It took me a long time to figure out why the movie grabbed my inner child in its teeth, shook it, and left it a bloody mess. You see, it’s pretty. Its trailer made me believe it was some artistic, surreal film. So I was eager to see it. So eager that I went on opening night. I went into it with my mind completely open to whatever imagery it would show me. And then my mind ran into its knife. My mind ran into its knife ten times. It was gripping. It had a wonderful supernatural mystery that unfolded slowly and made me want to know more. And then, it ended in a standard ghost story kind of way. And then it didn’t. Because “You weren’t supposed to help her! She never sleeps!”

The movie does not end. There’s no resolution. No way to kill the monster. No way to even slow it down. All you can do is pass on the curse. So, in my mind, my incredibly tender and open susceptible-to-the-slightest-bit-of-imagery mind, the movie never stopped running. I couldn’t get away from it because it never ended.

And it didn’t help that after seven days of torture, after I tried to convince my mind it was over, on the morning of the eighth day I turned on my TV and saw static. And it wouldn’t go away.

Total. Freak out. Moment.

I eventually realized that the coaxial cable connecting it the TV to Time Warner had mysteriously disconnected itself from the wall. To this day I have no idea how it happened. I think one of my cats was a sadistic bastard.

In the months to come, I researched as much as I could about the story of the movie (except not too much because I kept getting flashbacks). I couldn’t stop because I had to find an ending. I eventually found one using “Buffy the Vampire Slayer.” You put Samara in the Buffyverse, and she gets dispatched easily by the Scoobies in less than an hour. This one small thing, this little bit of crossover fanfic in my head actually put my mind at ease and allowed me to start watching videotapes again.

Based on this, I am so lucky that the Necronomicon is just fiction. Because I can’t stop looking into the abyss. Not only would I be obsessed in hunting down that infernal book, I would easily be driven mad by its contents and might actually summon an elder god or two.

So anyway, _Oculus_ looks great, and dark, and enticing, and I fear it’ll rip me to shreds. But I must see it. I can’t not. I need to be seduced into its darkness. I need to know what’s there.

It’s coming out next week. I’ll let you guys know what I think. Assuming I stay sane.


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