The Nightmare (2015)

Nine years ago, I remember dreaming a rather innocuous dream that involved a playful game of chase. I ducked down behind some kind of barrier to hide from my pursuer, and in that moment of anticipation I felt keenly the desire - as one normally would in such a circumstance - to remain hidden, undiscovered. That feeling washed over me as the dream ended, and, in a haze of half-wakefulness, I sensed a presence in my room. Something came over and knelt beside my bed. I thought it was a family member come to wake me, although the rarity of such an occurrence caused me some alarm. I tried to speak, but my voice wouldn't come out. My body was paralyzed. In that moment, my mind jumped to my childhood fear of being abducted by aliens, and so I endeavored to determine the identity of the unknown figure beside my bed. I looked at its face. It wasn't alien, but it wasn't human, either. In fact, it wasn't a face at all, but a ragged mass of flesh - a muddy configuration of epidermal ridges. I was terrified, more than I have ever been in my life, before or since. The fear was visceral and total, untempered by any rational considerations.

Finally I managed to reach my arm out toward the figure, in some mad attempt to interact with the phantasm that was tormenting me. But my hand only passed through the empty darkness. Perhaps my mind seized on that contradiction, because at that moment - as if my gesture had acted to dispel the illusion - the figure began to fade away before me. Only then did I open my eyes - verifying that what I had seen was only a hallucination (having that vividness of conscious reality that no dream could imitate). The paralysis left me, and the fear receded, though not completely. Utterly shaken by this - thankfully for me, once in a lifetime - ordeal, I opened the curtains and the room flooded with sunlight. Too frightened to return to bed, to chance the uncertain realm of sleep so soon, I sat up at my computer and, with tingling nerves, and while periodically glancing over my shoulder, researched what I came to learn had been an episode of what is called "sleep paralysis".

Before that day, I didn't know what sleep paralysis was, but it's a phenomenon that seems universal (if not exactly common) to human experience, across cultures and time periods. Henry Fuseli's painting The Nightmare from 1781 depicts a frequent symptom of sleep paralysis - which goes far beyond a simple bad dream - a goblin (or sometimes "old hag") sitting on the victim's chest to restrict their breathing. Going by the same title, Rodney Ascher now has a documentary out, drawing welcome attention to this haunting phenomenon. Even insofar as exploring the subject may potentially trigger sleep paralysis episodes in some individuals, whether they have experienced it before or not (I'm not sure that's how it works, but I can tell you that watching this documentary made me more afraid to go to sleep than A Nightmare on Elm Street ever has - consider how uniquely problematic it is when the thing you are afraid of is not, in fact, some "thing" coming in to your room at night, but going to sleep itself), I think it's important that people learn about this phenomenon (and that academics continue to study it), because of its significant impact on the lives of those who experience it.

I don't want to overhype this documentary, as it's entirely possible that my own one-time experience with sleep paralysis has contributed to my visceral reaction to the stories and images in this documentary. To an uninitiate, these experiences can sound downright crazy, and really stretch one's capacity for belief (and belief does have a tendency to stretch beyond its normal bounds for those who experience this phenomenon). But this feature probably scared me, physically as much as psychologically, as much as the original Paranormal Activity did, if not more. The documentary features interviews with several different unfortunates, all who have suffered from sleep paralysis for extended periods in their lives (I am thankful my experience was a solitary case, for I can't imagine the horror of having to deal with this condition on a regular basis). The fear in their voices when they describe their experiences is telling, and the dramatized depictions of their episodes are spot on, in my opinion, and wholly terrifying.

The fact that sleep paralysis is real makes it that much scarier. No shortage of horror movies boast stories that are "based on true events", but even those are fictions, to a greater or lesser extent. Sleep paralysis is something that actually happens to people - and when it does, there is no escape hatch. You can't tell yourself "it's only a movie" and shut off the TV. Repeat sufferers have even claimed that no amount of familiarization with the phenomenon makes it any less frightening. But though there are other real terrors in the world - serial killers, wild animals, natural disasters - the thing that makes sleep paralysis unique - and uniquely terrifying - is that it happens in the mind. It taps into a primal well-spring of fear, and is capable of bringing creatures of the imagination (sufferers regularly describe the shadowy intruders that visit them as having an evil presence) to vivid life. And not only do these creatures come for you in the dark of night, when you're in bed and at your most vulnerable - but you're also paralyzed and, thus, powerless to fight back.

Although I wouldn't have asked for it, and dread the possibility of a repeat occurrence, I nevertheless feel grateful for my one-time experience with sleep paralysis. Not only does it help me to understand the phenomenon, by having experienced it firsthand, but even though it was centered around fear, it was one of the most visceral and extraordinary experiences of my life. That having been said, I really can't blame the limits of sanity to which those people go who have to suffer with this condition for extended periods of their lives. A number of potential explanations for the phenomenon are put forth in the documentary, although I wish they had explored the scientific explanation in a little more depth (there was only a fleeting reference to the body's normal production of a paralyzing agent when we begin to enter the sleeping state). However, I appreciate the alternative explanations provided - not put forth by the documentarians as a matter-of-fact solution to the mystery, but just the various conclusions these different people who have to live with the condition have independently come to.

I was very glad that the documentary addressed the similarity between sleep paralysis and the alien abduction experience (one sufferer recognized symptoms of his experiences in the movie Communion). I would be interested in an even more in-depth exploration of sleep paralysis as a possible explanation for such experiences, but I guess that would be better suited to a documentary on alien abductions. Other sufferers frequently attribute a demonic nature to the intruders that visit them by their bedside at night. One such interviewee attempted (successfully, by her account) to expel the demons by invoking the name of Jesus, provocatively demonstrating the power of mind over matter in such an immaterial realm. If anything could turn a person into a believer (as one other interviewee states that he has renounced his atheism) it would be regularly experiencing such a profound phenomenon. John Constantine may take issue with the legitimacy of this approach, but when it comes to believing, those who have contact with supernatural entities have an advantage over the rest of us to whom God remains conspicuously silent.

Even as scientifically-minded as I am, I took some measure of comfort in conceptualizing my own sleep paralysis episode as a sort of symbolic representation of my psychic condition. My whole life has been ruled by fear (I don't think it's merely a coincidence that I've become a horror movie critic), and so I envisioned the faceless entity that had visited me that night as a physical embodiment of Fear, and its presence in my room an indication of the influence it has on my life. Granted, this is all still a product of my own psychology - as I decidedly take Scully's skeptical approach towards the phenomenon - but I shudder to think how much my faith in science and understanding of reality might buckle if this experience had not mercifully been a rare occurrence, but a regular part of my daily (nightly) life. And so, tonight - and every night afterward until the images from this documentary fade from my compulsive thoughts - I shall retire to my pillow and hope that I can drift in and out of sleep seamlessly, as usual, without tripping over the threshold and waking a nightmare unparalleled in its intensity.

The Aristocrats (2005)

So, after writing that post about Horror as Transgression the other day, I was thinking about one of the things I said - the part about horror being the best equipped genre to explore the transgression of moral codes (what with people running around murdering other people and all). And I was thinking, is that really true? Is horror really the best genre to explore transgression? Is there another genre that's well-poised to do that? And I thought, what about comedy? There are a lot of different styles of comedy, but one of them certainly involves drawing humor from the transgressing of taboos.

And then I wondered, so how come I'm not a bigger fan of comedy? Because I'll do fantasy, drama, documentary, action, sci-fi - you-name-it, pretty much. Except comedy. And the reason is partly because I'm a serious guy - I derive more entertainment from considering serious truths than I do laughing about something stupid. But another part of the reason is that I have a distinct style of humor, and it's not about doing or saying stupid things to make someone laugh. It's an intelligent, cynical sort of humor, where the humor derives from - get this - transgressing taboos and speaking uncomfortable truths that we're not supposed to be able to talk about.

That's why, I guess, I like Family Guy so much, because they really don't hold anything back, and aren't above making really tasteless jokes that poke fun exactly where fun needs to be poked. See, that's a strange irony - because I'm all about being serious - but as a skeptic, it is my firm belief that nothing should be held sacred in the realm of discourse. No subjects are taboo. That's the fundamental importance of the First Amendment - the freedom of speech. And jokes that take advantage of breaking taboos - it's almost like to hear those jokes, your whole mind and body sighs a breath of relief because it's pure human nature to be curious about what lies beyond that line that everybody else tells you you're not allowed to cross.

That's also probably why I like George Carlin's style of humor so much. I've never, like, sat down and watched comedians do stand-up on any kind of regular basis or anything because usually I don't much go for humor. But obviously George Carlin has a pretty solid reputation, cult or otherwise, and it's impossible for me to avoid having overheard some of his monologues here and there over the years, and I really like his style. It's intelligent, it's biting, and it's unforgiving, and that's just what I like. It's not people doing silly things - what I might be inclined to call "kiddy humor". It's funny because it's so, so true, and yet it's things that most people are afraid to say or even admit to themselves - and hearing somebody make those points so confidently thrills me!

So anyway, I remembered The Aristocrats, which I heard about around the time it came out (but otherwise casually ignored). The concept is downright fascinating - that there is this sort of "in-joke" among the comedian community, whereby in telling it, the comedian is required to improvise, and encouraged to concoct the most vile, most offensive stage act his mind can conjure. Now, it's a very easy criticism to consider this just the grandaddy of all fart jokes - but the point isn't simply to be disgusting - the point is that you can be disgusting, that there is no ceiling - no taboo, whatsoever. It's the ultimate celebration of free speech and that's why I love it.

I love it, but not because it's funny. Most of the time, it's not even that funny. For me, it's not about being funny. Even when it is funny. But whether it's humorous or scary, enticing or downright repulsive, it all depends on the joke-teller. But the mere fact of its existence, and what it stands for, and the fact that comedians are willing to "go there", to exercise free speech and break any and all taboos - the bigger the taboo, the better the joke - and understand and respect the need to be able to do that, is so incredibly refreshing in a world with powerful authorities ("aristocrats", if you will) hell-bent on censorship and 'cleaning up' speech to make it palatable to their own disgustingly sanitary sensibilities.

But I sense it's the sorta thing you either get, or you don't.

For those of you who have seen the movie, I think my favorite version of the joke was Jon Ross's, because I like the way he used symmetry and build-up, and the way that it seemed more calculated for effect rather than "let me just run off all the most disgusting things that come to mind". But I also liked the mime's version, and the card magician, both of which were very clever. The South Park version was good, too, though I can't quite put my finger on why. And the deadpan way that Sarah Silverman was willing to efface herself for the sake of the joke. And how Taylor Negron told it so compellingly, it didn't even sound like a joke. I love that this joke really brings out the personality of the joke teller; that's definitely one of its selling points, and why it's actually interesting to hear dozens of comedians tell their own versions of the joke (that are bound to be hit-or-miss depending on your individual taste), and why a documentary like this one works.

This Film Is Not Yet Rated (2006)

Note: This review was originally posted on a message board forum. I am reposting it here for archival purposes. It has been backdated to the date of its original posting.

This Film Is Not Yet Rated is an enlightening - at times humorous, at times enraging - documentary exploring the hypocrisy and the secrecy of the MPAA ratings board and their inconsistent and nontransparent practices. It is in some way connected with the IFC (Independent Film Channel) - which, despite the fact that I've never seen the actual channel, is one of the best channels ever, based simply on some of its programming I've seen on DVD.

Anyhow, in This Film Is Not Yet Rated, in addition to providing a little background on the MPAA and its history, and discussing through interviews with various independent filmmakers the process (and frustrations) of getting a film reviewed by the MPAA, and the dread of the NC-17 brand, which essentially prevents a film from receiving any kind of a reasonable audience (let alone profit), as such a rating severely cuts a film's distribution and advertising avenues, (is this sentence long enough yet?), the director, a guy named Kirby Dick, hires a private investigator to try to crack the suspicious secrecy of the MPAA ratings board, who keeps the identity of its raters top secret, and eventually uncovers the identities of said raters, much to the board's consternation.

Phew. So yeah, it's a really interesting documentary that really brings to light the shady practices of the MPAA, and just how biased they are towards the big studios and against the independents. Not to mention the dichotomy between their all-appeasing public image, and the corruption that goes on behind locked doors. There's also some very interesting discussion with the filmmakers I mentioned above about some of the (often ridiculous) reasons their films received NC-17 ratings. This naturally includes a discussion of what is and is not apparently okay for mainstream cinema (according to the MPAA), the uneven treatment of sexual versus violent material, discrimination of (usually sexual) minorities, etc.

If any of this sort of thing interests you, then you should definitely give this doc a viewing. It may not be a comprehensive look at the rating/censorship phenomenon, but it's certainly a fascinating glimpse and an exposé not to be missed.