Mindflesh Review
Lots of decent films have been founded on the premise of an obsessive loner and Brit indie horror Mindflesh is one of them. The loner in question is Chris (Peter Bramhill), a taxi driver fascinated by the recurring apparition of a mysterious woman.
Though his few acquaintances see Chris as something of a harmless crank (a map, charting every appearance of the mysterious woman, that hangs on his study wall, doesn’t help), things take a disturbing turn when he begins to be attacked by aberrant creatures in his sleep, bearing horrific welts that mysteriously heal without a trace the next day.
Suffice to say, something messed-up is afoot and it’s not long before those close to him are at risk, something predicted by a creepy mad professor type played with unhinged brilliance by Christopher Fairbank.
Fairbank’s exposition-vending mad professor, along with the aforementioned crazy-loner-turns-out-to-be-right theme are familiar touches that nod to horror convention, but there’s an arthouse twist to Mindflesh that make it more difficult to pigeonhole; especially in some key, psycho-sexually charged scenes heavy on symbolism.
Though the minuscule budget is plain to see, Mindflesh weathers and arguably benefits from the lack of funds, managing to be pretty effective at what it does. What it does being to intrigue, frighten and occasionally unsettle the viewer.
In sum, this is a pretty messed-up film. The easily offended will be offended, but for the seasoned horror fan, Mindflesh offers something raw, unique, and very worthwhile.
Adam Richardson