SESSION 9
Sometimes the essence of a scarring horror movie can be distilled to just two simple words. Here it’s “Hello, Gordon”
There are other 21st century horror movies that shook me (MARTYRS, THE MIST, Rob Zombie’s painfully overlooked HALLOWEEN II) and gave me the major willies (LAKE MUNGO). Brad Anderson’s picture, shot and set at Danvers State Hospital in Massachusetts, lingers the most.
I got my first (Bush) DVD player with help from a staff discount at my Co-Op student job (that became my early twenties job!). The realisation that it secretly played U.S. discs opened the door to a world of wonders from Anchor Bay, Blue Underground, etc. Back then, Amazon existed for cheap books, so Play.com and DVD Concept were among the go-to sites, even if buying online using dial-up internet took longer than it did to watch the movies in question. Among them: SESSION 9 on Region 1!
My first viewing was with my friend Sophie, with whom I would make semi-regular nocturnal trips (in my first car – a nippy black Fiat Cinquecento!) to various spooky, maybe-haunted Norfolk locations. In our heads, we were the East Anglian equivalents of the intrepid BLAIR WITCH PROJECT protagonists (without the “doomed” part, in theory). The reality was us reduced to trembling terror in the woods at midnight if an owl unintentionally created a jump scare.
I’d promised Sophie something really scary, like Dan Aykroyd to Albert Brooks in TWILIGHT ZONE: THE MOVIE. For once, it was fulfilled. This tale of asbestos workers (notably, a terrifying / heartbreaking Peter Mullan) overcome by the oppressive working conditions and grim history of the long-abandoned institution freaked us out. Even the special features offered little comfort, with Mullan speaking about the overwhelmingly negative vibe of the location, recalling how he heard a voice urging him to jump off the roof. I’d give up a toe or two to have seen SESSION 9 in a cinema but, even with my relatively primitive 2002 home audio set-up (a TV with speakers!!), the sound design was a major factor in the movie’s impact. I spent years seeking a physical copy of the discordant unnerving score by Climax Golden Twins – eventually finding a CD in a random shop in Berlin during a 30th birthday trip.
After our viewing, I had to walk Sophie home down a familiar but now suddenly imposing lane – a route where previously the only thing to fear was white dog poo. The alleyway to her house was so dark you couldn’t see your own hand in front of your face. The walk back home alone was fraught with SESSION 9-induced anxiety and, if my brain suggests I strolled confidently back, the reality was probably a somewhat camp and nervy trot.
Like other candidates for Scariest Film Ever Made, it makes great use of “old tech”; here, the taped sessions of a patient with multiple personalities. One of these alternates, the most dangerous, is called Simon and his voice is the most frightening thing I can think of. The final words, from that ninth session tape, and played over a final aerial shot of Danvers, gives me the shivers as I type:
“And where do you live, Simon?”
“I live in the weak and wounded, doc”
Steven West