Personal Therapy: Pulse

This is something new.

I'm lying in bed, three in the morning, and I can't sleep.

It's not that I'm not tired. Believe me, 13 hours of traveling to move a thousand miles is exhausting, especially when this was somehow accomplished using planes.

I should, by all rites, be out cold and enjoying sweet dreams of Buffy the Vampire Slayer fighting the Jessica Alba, but instead I'm up writing a sequel to a review.

What can I say to explain this?

I'm afraid to go to bed.

I'm a grown adult, at least physically. Sure, I play my share of video games and read dumb airport novels, but who doesn't?

But being afraid of the dark? That's something new to me.

I gave up night lights when I was five. So what's going on?

I'll tell you: My house is haunted.

Seriously.

There is a ghost named Cosmo who has lived in this house since before I was born. He's a prankster, mainly doing the fun and easy stuff like moving doors and objects when you're only sorta looking so you freak out.

But now he's moved up to something a bit more exotic.

Sound effects and toying with electric things...

Anyways, let me get on topic. I was all set for sleepy times when all of the sudden my electric razor started freaking out.

It was in its cleaner, untouched, and then started CLEANING ITSELF!

I was laying in the dark when this happened, and I nearly gasped aloud.

But, being a semi-athletic-type with a background in violent videogames, I decided I could handle whatever lay ahead. I went into the bathroom and the damned thing was RISING UP AND DOWN ON ITS OWN!

I unplugged the chord and it quieted down, but I was sufficiently rattled.

I asked the ghost, in polite terms, to let me get some rest. I turned out the lights, assured myself of my place on the food chain, and went to bed.

Then the sounds started.

Rattling, scratching, and some whispering. The usual gamut for the incorporeal entertainment artists.

I am not too proud to say I did what any human being would do under these circumstances: I hid under my covers and tempted asphyxiation.

Then, feeling quite the tool, I puffed out my chest and wandered the upstairs of my house looking for the source of the disturbance.

Nothing. No rats, no squirrels, no undead minions of the BEAST (read: Uwe Boll)

So what was I left to do? I got online to write on my blog about this experience.

What does this have to do with "Pulse", you ask?

I think the movie actually had an effect on me. I'm not proud of this, as I often boast I can't be scared by the jump tactics used in movies these days.

But I am scared by the macabre.

This is why zombies really get to me, and why wolfman does not. "Pulse" had some seriously disturbing images, and I'm not talking "Hostel" oh-my-that-was-eye-juice-she-just-leaked disturbing. I mean oh-that's-a-ghost-with-a-MOUTH-FOR-A-FACE!

I can't escape such visuals. They stick with me and pop up at the most inopportune times, like now for instance.

So I figure, if I resume the review that (let's be honest) was only half-done, perhaps I can find closure and thus rest.

Let's take a good look at the movie with a critical eye.

The plot centers around a digital-virus-ghost (it's never explained if the ghosts are in fact dead souls or just electronic signals that look like people but really just want some lovin'.

It's hinted at, but much like an episode of "Lost" there are more questions raised than answered.

A lot of people commit suicide in this movie. The reason given is that, when a ghost soul-sucks you, all your will to live is taken away. You search for release, usually in the form of the nearest ledge or hammer you can drive into your face.

But I think the real reason is the fact that the entire world is a horrific shade of gray.

Seriously, the whole movie was shot through a BAWLS glass (if you don't what BAWLS is, go find out NOW and enjoy life in a new way).

Everyone is depressed, even the happy-slutty friend. The ghosts are the happiest things in the film, and their idea of fun is finding new and surprising places to pop out of.

Since we are on the subject of popping out, why is it that, no matter how much a person knows about the foe they are up against, they will search EVERY nook and cranny in EVERY creepy locations they are in?

Why?

And they love to be alone during these assaults on humanity, or at most with one other person just to make sure there is no chance of safety in numbers (the ghosts, on the other hand, travel in super packs near the end of the film, making them the smarter of the species).

The manner in which the creatures take their victims also begs a certain bit of introspection.

If your will is forcebly removed from your face (via the swell soul-sucking method taught in every ghost univerity) you have a few ways you can die.

- You can kill yourself (the most popular method of the film, and for heaven's sake try to come up with something more creative than hanging yourself with your computer's power chord).

- You can burst into ash at the drop of a hat (also a nice choice, though try to do this in front of your emotionally fragile friend to increase the chance of her doing something incredibly dim witted like STANDING THERE AND WATCHING THE ASH SWIRL IN THE MIDDLE OF AN ALL-OUT ASSAULT ON HUMANITY.

- Finally, and this is really the way to go, lean against a wall and get sucked in.

Wait.......let's go back a sec.

If you have the black death mark growing on you, and you lean against a wall, you get SUCKED IN and leave a greasy shmear on the stucco.

It's also done best if your friend has your free arm and tries to pull you away from this awful fate.

This movie has some seriously ridiculous holes in the story and universe, but that's not why I'm pointing them out.

Despite these obviously far-fetched plot points, this movie still scared me.

I know it shouldn't, because it's a remake of an Asian horror film and thus a POS, but here we are.

I still recommend this, because it's still a nice piece of filmage. I might even watch it again to try and face this new anxiety.

I know this post was not the usual fair you all look for on this site.

But if you look up in the corner of the page, you'll notice there is a name written there.

That's mine.

It's my site.

So I can write whatever the hell I want.

Owned.

Now go watch the new Bond movie until you get your fix of raw manliness for the month.