Movie Review: Session 9-Demonic Possession and Mental Illness — Where’s the Line?
For our first horror movie discussion, I present to you an old but strikingly engaging flick from the far-beyond days of the early 2000’s: Session 9 (2001).
Though Session 9 cannot claim widespread familiarity, it can claim well-deserved recognition for creating a story that thrills and chills — not for its use of cheap shock-value, however, but for creating such a compelling narrative and story-environment that causes the audience to question: What’s real, and what isn’t?
To surmise the story, Gordon Fleming — the inexplicably Scottish owner of an American asbestos-removal company — promises to remove the asbestos from a defunct insane asylum in a week’s time in preparation for its renovation and re-utilization as a mayor’s office, a feat as crazy as the asylum’s previous inmates. However, encouraged by a desperate lack of funds, and the insinuated occurrence of domestic assault via jarring odd-ball snippets of early 2000’s audio and visual editing, Fleming dedicates himself entirely to the project, both heart and soul — and, inevitably, mind.
This is where the horror kicks in. Though the film acknowledges such themes as the demonization and mistreatment of the mentally ill (discussed through direct reference to the practice of lobotomization, a terrible fate inevitably inflicted on one of the crew-mates), its main allure is in its lack of distinction between the paranormal and psychological, leaving viewers with an apprehension towards either quite satisfied in its disturbing insinuations.
As vaguely expressed earlier, Gordon Fleming begins to slowly crack under the pressure of the job, its ominous asbestos-filled atmosphere, and the mistake he made at home. With a newborn baby to feed with minimal funds, and a distraught wife who he reflexively smacked after she accidentally dropped boiling water on his leg (there is definitely an inequality in reparations here), Fleming begins to hear voices, causing his grip on reality to crumble.
This can be understandably linked to the stressful circumstances he finds himself under, but through a sub-plot involving excavated tapes of therapy sessions involving a women with Dissociative Identity Disorder, a sinisterly demonic influence comes into the picture.
Mary Hobbes, who killed her entire family two decades prior, has no recollection of the event. Instead, through separated and distinct personalities (following the actual psychological understanding of DID’S root cause) she compartmentalizes the traumatic experience so as to not live burdened by them. The personalities interviewed begin innocently enough, starting with Princess, an innocent young girl archetype, and followed by Billy (the creativity put into these names are astounding), the young boy identity that evidently knows what happened, but refuses to speak on it.
Through the unnamed Dr.’s perceptively unsympathetic and ruthless prodding (as Mary’s agitation and distraught behavior grows with each tape), he reveals the identity of a third personality, the one who caused Mary’s slaughter, and the one that goes by the name of Simon.
Simon’s voice, unlike the others, sounds distinct from Mary’s, causing the viewer to cleverly infer that, unlike the others, his origins aren’t entirely psychological. When asked where Simon lives (as Princess lives in the mouth, and Billy lives in the eyes), Simon states chillingly, in a voice too low to be Mary’s: “I live in the weak and wounded, Doc.”
This reveal comes in coordination with Gordon’s final mental break, who throughout the film has acted odd and gradually unhinged in the perception of both the viewer, and in Gordon’s trusted crewwmates. Experiencing a black-out (another concept taken directly from the symptoms of DID), Gordon wakes up in his company van outside of the asylum without any memory as to when or how he got there. Entering, he finds the massacre of his crew-mates, something revealed to be his own doing when Simon’s distinct voice enters the picture, urging him to kill the remaining witness.
By paralleling Mary, Gordon acts as the platform in which Session 9’s dilemma is conveyed: Was it the result of onset mental illness exacerbated by stress, or was it an act of demonic possession? By toeing this line, Simon himself becomes representative of undiagnosed mental illness, and the terrible consequences it can have on the suffer’s loved ones. This literal demonization of mental illness conveys the understanding of mental illness’s burdening effects, and proposes to the viewer that some actions, though not excusable, can be explained through an attentive lens.
Whether Simon’s existence is paranormal, and whether those under his influence are to be completely blamed for their sinister actions is debatable, much like real-world discussion on the responsibility of those who’ve committed crimes under “mental duress”. Did Simon win in his dastardly intentions because of his demonic sway over his victims, or is his victory a testament to their weakness of character? It’s questions like this that leave Session 9 viewers with contemplation after the movie’s proceedings, a testament to a good horror film that does its job exploring the darker aspects of humanity at its lowest.
