Filmed in grainy black and white, Psychosis follows criminal fixer and coffee addict Cliff Van Aarle (Derryn Amoroso) as he attempts to help two incompetent street pushers, Brodie and Aaron (Henry Errington and Michael Wilkop). To Van Aarle, the gig offers the chance to get his sister, Louise (Louise Byrne), the hospital treatment she needs. But all is not well with Van Aarle. A victim of his psychologist father’s cruel experiments to unlock the Subconscious Observer, in which the subject would see and process everything. He cannot escape the chaotic voices of his thoughts and the constant monologuing of his internal Narrator (Lindsay Dunn).

The gig, however, becomes complicated, as Brodie and Aaron have ripped off the terrifying Joubini (James McCluskey-Garcia), a super villainous coke baron. It’s up to Van Aarle to run the gambit of Joubini’s gang of zombie-like Hallow Men, demons from his past, and his lack of coffee, with the aid of the mysterious masked vigilante Lone Wolf (Pj van Gyen) and his best friend Hess (Kate Holly Hall).

Psychosis is what would be produced if Philp K. Dick wrote a Sam Spade novel and ate psilocybin mushrooms up until the third draft. Monochrome Noir blends with increasingly impossible situations and cognitive dissidence to create a surreal, otherworldly thriller. Is it a psychological horror, with Van Aalre dealing with the Jungian archetype voices of his mind? Is it a Film Noir with a complex criminal conspiracy? A 1940s Pulp Action serial? A zombie movie, with gangs of hypnotised Hallow Men running around? After a while, it becomes clear that it doesn’t matter if it has a strict genre, and the viewer is just along for the ride.

Psychosis is a strange film, hypnosis-induced zombie drug gangs aside. Part of it is due to it being gimmicky. The voice-over narration of Van Aalre’s subconscious and intrusive thoughts allows for character exploration and serves as a surrogate for the audience. This means piping hot exposition, and motivation are served directly into the viewer’s unprotected lap. The fleeting moments of colour over a clue should feel like glowing icons in a point-and-click adventure game. Like the film is worried, the viewer is easily distracted and will miss the clever clues. It should feel like something out of a second-year film student’s project.

It should feel like this, but it doesn’t. Writer-director Pirie Martin uses these gimmicks to tell the audience much more than what’s on the screen. It is a brilliant example of “Style to create Substance.” It invokes a sensation of cognitive dissonance and mental discomfort without being aware of currently conflicting thoughts and actions.

Like walking over a bridge spanning a deep lake or a broken mind, so much is happening under the surface. There are so many little hints and nods to something more happening. For example, are Van Aalre’s voices just the tell-tale signs of a schizophrenic experiencing audible hallucinations? Or is this how the subconscious observer experiments his father conducted on him meant to manifest? It all adds another level of mystery, requiring multiple rewatches.

It’s not without flaws, yet given the high strangeness of proceedings, they don’t feel like deal breakers. If anything, they feel purposefully bewildering to confound the audience as some form of a cruel and enjoyable joke that reinforces viewer dissonance. Story-wise, there are questions that should be answered. What happened to Van Aalre’s sister, and what is the history between Joubini and Van Aalre’s father? Spoken dialogue can sometimes be dull and some scenes don’t seem to impact the narrative. But they’re balanced with the aforementioned “Style to create Substance” and won’t ruin any experience, even when forewarned about them.

Psychosis is an eccentric, starling, funny, independent thriller that, while it has the odd negative moment, is held up by its strange and unforgettable story and style.

Psychosis is available now on Amazon Prime Video and other VOD channels

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