PRISON OF THE PSYCHOTIC DEAD (2006)

From its origins in cross-comparative mythology to its subsequent refinement as literary fiction and, finally, as cinema, the ghost story has long scared and challenged audiences with its willingness to explore death, questions of the after-life, and our basic fear of the unknown. Reflecting universal terrors of culture and the more intimate anxieties of the individual, successful ghost stories challenge our beliefs and perceptions while giving us a fun scare. Unfortunately, the film we’re about to explore isn’t a successful ghost story.

A poor shadow of superior supernatural thrillers, many of which this awkward film burrows from (or gives homage to), Prison Of The Psychotic Dead is a misplaced stew of macabre miss-haps with a story as predictable as its production values are crass, neither the workmanlike direction of a confused script nor barely existent subtext arousing dread or believability in its decidedly routine, often confused action. The movie would have been far more exciting and emotionally involving if either the script or the actors had achieved the simplistic honesty of dread or morose atmosphere so organic to the location -- which is the eeriest aspect of the production. Alas, the story is more concerned with trotting out various supernatural cliches than in telling a disturbing spectral story with either style or originality.
With a plot as irritatingly obvious as it is clumsily constructed, with narrative action veering unsuccessfully from the present to distorted flashbacks that arouse more ire than dread by lack of continuity or focus, a serviceable if uninspired script by David Williams tries too hard to crowd various allusions to other ghost stories into its meandering plot. Instead of an original tale evoking empathy or dread, what we get is a stale mirror image of scenes culled from the like of The Haunting, misplaced gore, and genre caricatures rather than characters. Similar to a fraternity’s yearly Halloween House, this story reveals its cheap if occasionally fun spills of blood and mood without the sense of awe, pacing, or believability required to make a supernatural story believable. The plot, an overly simplistic premise that the filmmakers fail to evolve, focuses on an unlikable documentary crew which spends the night investigating the haunted ‘Buffalo Central Terminal’-- setting of several past tragedies, including everything from a train wreck to a corrupt insane asylum. A futile if somewhat fun freak show of fragmented imagery and nonsensical plotting, the characters are never allowed to develop, and the scares, when they come, are without motivation.

Characters are ‘types,’ examples of what genre detractors consider to be organic to our field, not actual personas with histories and instincts: we have Jason, the nerdy camera-man, Arora, the predictable psychic, Nessy, the requisite mousy-girl, Kansas, a terribly overacted bastion of ‘female angst,’ and an incredibly Bitchy professional filmmaker/ringleader who lends acidity to already unpleasant performances. "The Terminal," an abandoned train terminal deep in the heart of Buffalo's notorious East Side ghetto, is easily the creepiest, most accomplished ‘character’ of the film, and easily the most frightening, said to be haunted by the victims and inmates who have died within its walls. Shadow-drenched corridors and murkily lit hallways evoke a feeling of unease unavailable in the prosaic, unbelievable performances or Halloween mask make-up effects of this weak redux of genre cliches.
Crippled from a lethargic and uninspired screenplay, this story of predictable ghostly manifestations, adolescent fart jokes, and unsympathetic characters fails to horrify or titillate. Attempting to probe the emotional and psychological geographies of unlikable characters in a format whose ‘Scooby Doo’ structure dilutes its few intriguing moments, the story never establishes a dramatic scope or central conflict, preferring instead to ‘haunt’ very tired, very familiar territory that other films have already trod with greater depth. Focusing overly long on the tragic history of the terminal, the director throws a jumble of disassociated information into a format that simply can’t handle it, overburdening itself with too many references to past events that are never given the time or depth needed to properly grow. When characters start to die in scenes where both their stupidity (and lack of acting ability) are emphasized over suspense, we feel neither concerned nor frightened. We do feel agitated that filmmakers whose hearts were in the right place (obvious in their attention to atmosphere) didn’t take the time to craft a more convincing story.

Prison of the Psychotic Dead is not a well told, properly constructed ghost story. It is, however, a harmless diversion. If you’re in the mood for some cheese, you may very well enjoy its unintentionally ambiguous plot and melodramatic thespians.