text: Apparently, a massive head wound is the cure for homicidal tendencies, turning a murderous sociopath into a lovable and oafish dog catcher. Also (this ones for the ladies), it seems that the front gate of a psychiatric hospital is an overlooked hot spot for meeting potential mates. Those are just two of the approximately 23 absurdities we're supposed to accept for this movie to have any meaning. I love movies and I believed, as I'm assuming many Americans do (forgive me if I'm wrong), that Hollywood turned out the best product. I've come to learn how sadly naive and brainwashed I was and 2) how much more sophisticated European/Asian Cinema is in comparison to its American counterpart.<br /><br />I watched this allegedly disturbing psychological "thriller" the night following a viewing of a Japanese movie called Suicide Club. As the camera faded on Walter Sparrow's happy little family enjoying some quality time around a prison visiting room table (not to mention the patronizing voice-over extolling the virtue of "doing the right thing"), I suddenly had an epiphany. I had just finished watching a movie that left me feeling as though I'd just had a glass of water when I really wanted a beer. My thirst was sated, but it was strictly utilitarian. The premise was mildly interesting, but the story itself, with its innumerable "coincidences" (How do we explain her finding the book? We'll just say something like,"...Or did the book find her?." They'll buy that), gaping plot holes (why did wifey take the skeleton?), predictability, and obligatory happy ending, turned out to be just another Hollywood hack job. Additionally, the casting of Jim Carrey was justwrong. At any moment, I felt he was capable of breaking into some shtick from one of his stupid comedies or In Living Color. Jim Carrey as a tattooed hard-boiled police detective who enjoys bondage and rough sex? Didn't buy it for a second.<br /><br />You want disturbing? Deeply disturbing? Watch Suicide Club. The story surrounds the mysterious mass suicide of 54 school girls. The film opens with a group of giggling high schoolers mulling about on a subway train platform. We then watch in horror as they line up, hold hands, and happily throw themselves in front of a fast moving commuter train. Needless to say, much chaos ensues. That's as far as I'm going to go with the story line because I encourage the reader to see the film. In fact, I'm not sure if I could outline the plot even if I wanted to. What begins as a straightforward mystery quickly descends into a madhouse of grotesque imagery. Did I understand the movie? Nonot initiallylike many of the foreign films my girlfriend has introduced me to. So naturally, I thought it was "bad." But this one lingered in my mind. I went to bed thinking on the film and awoke the next morning and looked it up on IMDb. I read some of the viewer comments and was astonished at 1) the insights others had derived from the film and 2) the fact that I had so thoroughly missed the whole point of the movie. I realized that I was so used to being spoon fed the "message" from Hollywood, that when confronted with a film that actually required the viewer to participateto actually think for themselves, I was totally unequipped. It's as if I had been conditioned to "check my brain at the door" of the theater.<br /><br />Am I saying that Suicide Club is the greatest movie ever made? Of course not. It has its flaws, many of which were reported adroitly by the IMDb reviewers. Am I saying that all American movies are bad and all foreign movies are good? Againof course not. My point is that there's a whole world of film-making outside of Hollywooda body of work that engages the viewer; forces them to think and questionmovies that don't telegraph plot twists, follow a strict linear sequence, and above all, don't insult the intelligence of the person watching. I look forward to expanding my mind while exploring this new world of film that doesn't "do the thinking for me."