







There’s something delightfully warped about a film that combines rubbery monster mayhem with a deadpan anti-drug parable. Brain Damage delivers exactly that, served with buckets of goo and a smirk. The plot’s simple enough: an affable young man becomes host to a talking, brain-slurping parasite who offers euphoric highs in exchange for grisly meals.
The special effects are gloriously gruesome—practical, tactile, and gloriously over the top. This is latex, slime, and splatter done with love, the sort of craftsmanship that makes you wince and grin in the same breath. Frank Henenlotter keeps the tone bouncy, knowing exactly when to push the absurdity and when to lean into full-on gore.
It’s pure cult—cheerfully trashy yet surprisingly sharp in its satire. The humour never lets the horror get too heavy, and the horror keeps the humour from getting too smug. Messy, monstrous, and infectiously fun.