Session 9 (2001)

Shot in high-definition video and featuring David Caruso in a major role, Session 9 can often feel like a made for television horror film on the USA network. Unusual for a shitty TV movie though is the much better than average performance of Scottish actor Peter Mullan (who played “Mother Superior” in Trainspotting). The film invites the viewer to study Mullan; what is noticeable immediately is the incongruity between his brutish physique and his gentle face. His character, Gordon, is tired; strangely, instead of being buoyed by the recent birth of his infant daughter, he seems troubled and lethargic. Of course, this could just be the natural results of being a new father: sleepless nights due to the infant crying, etc. But the camera considers him with ominous angles, lingering, suggesting that this is a draining of spirit, not just a lack of sleep.

Mullan’s worn-down susceptibility makes him perfect for a man who could be inspired to commit mad, desperate acts. Like the protagonist of a certain monumental little horror film directed by Stanley Kubrick, Gordon’s fragile psyche starts housing bad ideas influenced by a sinister building. The building is a defunct mental hospital.

Perhaps I’m being picky, but I didn’t think the dilapidated architecture and crumbling interiors were photographed or dwelled on to utilize their fullest potential. Other than a sinister hallway with a chair sitting insinuatingly at the farthest end, opportunities for establishing dread through atmosphere are neglected in favor of jolting sound effects, which punctuate the story regardless of whether or not they are required in the context of the moment. There are many such cheap tricks employed to frighten: one of the men on the crew, Mike (Stephen Gevedon, who co-wrote the screenplay) tells a story about one of the female patients at the institution who claimed that her father would rape her three times a week, sometimes doing so while wearing a black robe. Other times, the father would drive her out to a field where the rest of her family was waiting in black robes. Incestuous ritualistic blood orgies would ensue, involving lots of creative depravity. It has nothing to do with Mary Hobbes, the ex-patient who is at the heart of Session 9, rendering his little story gratuitous. It might have been disgusting if it had not been so transparently eager to disgust, a juvenile impulse common in people who like to boast how jaded they are. You got a fucked up story about cannibalistic necrophiliacs? Well, I got a story about shit-eating quadriplegic serial killers. Urban legends and tales of freaks and transgressions are effective when they are called upon later by a film, such as the horrifying tale of Charles Grady, or folklore about disappeared children made to stand in the corner. But here, Mike’s little story is self-contained and serves a cheap purpose.

Brad Anderson, co-writer and director of Session 9, says in his commentary, “Good old-fashioned scary movies are harder to find these days. You couldn’t have made The Exorcist [1973] today with that script and that kind of meticulous character development.” If he’s suggesting that Session 9 likewise achieves meticulous character development, then he is sadly mistaken. Aside from Gordon, the other four crewmembers are thinly-conceived stock characters:

Phil is the mean ball-buster

Hank (Josh Lucas) is the plot device used to create tension with Phil (Hank stole Phil’s girlfriend, you see)

Mike is the smart one (we know he’s smart because we see him reading during his lunch break)

and Jeff (Brendan Sexton III) is the dumb new guy.


Most of the dialogue is exposition, and it is especially laughable when it involves Phil and Hank’s feud. Standard exchange:
Hank: “I only fuck Amy to beat on Phil.”
Phil: “Fuck you Hank. Eat shit and die.”
Hank: “That’s what Amy does to me…when I have sex with her.”
Phil: “Keep it up fucker.”
Hank: “I do get it up. That’s why she’s with me now. I’m having sex with your girlfriend, which you do not like.”
All the while I was nervously thinking, “Those guys have to work in close proximity to one another. Tense.”

Later Hank disappears and the film attempts to trick us into thinking Phil has killed him, you know, because they’ve been telling each other to fuck off the whole movie. In addition to David Caruso’s often inappropriate over-intensity, there’s some unfortunate unintentional comedy: the recordings of the talk therapy sessions that a psychiatrist conducted with Mary Hobbes seem cartoonishly contrived. The doctor’s voice sounds fake and unnecessarily malevolent while Mary’s is overly hysterical. Mary suffers from multiple personality disorder, and changes her voice on the recording to suit each. You’d expect the voices of her multiple personalities, “The Princess,” “Billy,” and “Simon” to be silly, but the voice of “Billy” is sort of disquieting and the voice of “Simon” is the most disturbingly evil voice I think I’ve heard in quite a while. In fact, Mary does not reveal “Simon” until the final recorded session

...the eponymous 9th, where “Simon” describes what it was that caused Mary to be institutionalized in the first place. The potent capturing of this evil must be credited to the person who did the voice-work for “Simon.” Brad Anderson must also be credited for putting the voice over a terrifying nightmare Gordon has. And the final words of the film are chilling.


The film’s amateurish qualities should not be forgiven, especially when considering the squandered greatness of the premise. However, Peter Mullan’s performance and the evil voice of “Simon” combine to set Session 9 apart and deem it worthy of seeking out.


Grade: B-