Some will classify this beautifully formed blood clot as a piece of hard candy, but I think it’s a damn fine polished ruby.
Whether it’s a horror movie, a psychological thriller, or an art noir film will be difficult to decide; especially if you’re the average mind eroded mainstream couch potato that prefers the boredom of high school musicals and romantic dramas. In my opinion Alyce is a psycho-horror art film, but let’s forget the film and concentrate on the character.
I admire Alyce very much.
Her character is starkly real and brutally honest.
She is the product of society and yet, like yours truly, she considers it as no virtue to be part of a profoundly sick society.
Let’s face it, most human beings are constitutionally incapable of being honest with themselves (and others) for any extended length of time, including me. However, to be honest about this is in itself, is a great step towards searching and perhaps reaching a personal spiritual awakening.
Alyce becomes the realization of going beyond the limits of herself, and violently protests against
the morals and values of
the society that holds her
hostage by physically re-
defining the word ‘normal’.
What is normal? There is
no clear answer.
Normal lies on a spec-
trum. In some societies
cannibalism is normal. In
most societies cannibalism
is abnormal and illegal.
So, who is right? In a
global society governed by
the fallacies of democracy
and majority conformity, the
minority always suffers. For me personally, there should be no minority or majority.
There should only be anarchy.
Alyce is a textbook anarchist.
She tears herself away from the false governance of democratic society; its paradoxical twin dictatorship of norms and values, and finds freedom in murder and mayhem.
She emerges from this bruising chaos and is reborn anew into herself, knowing exactly who she is and what she did.
She achieves order in her life and finds freedom in herself through
anarchy.
Her first word as a reborn human being, to the spiritually castrated representatives of the sick society that infected her with its cancers of conformity and addiction, is a nonchalant: “WHAT?”
Most qualified psychologists and their pathetically normal patients will construe the persona of Alyce as a metaphor for looking into the abyss and going insane, but it’s not up to them to decide.
Devoid of proof that they themselves are sane, how can they diagnose anyone as insane?
Their university degrees, their textbooks, their statistical analysis, and their lacking personal familiarity with experiences outside the range of usual human experience disqualifies them as human beings in my books. They’re human doings incapable of being. Just another breed of sheeple. Über sheeple. They are not experts in any field of being.
Who’s to say insanity is not normal? Or, is being normal not just another form of being insane? Insanity, after all, is repeating the same behaviour and expecting different outcomes… and that is exactly what sheeple do each day. They get up, put on their goody-two-shoes and blindfolds, and follow the flock around from dawn to dusk. When they get home from a hard day’s work as white collar slaves to the capitalist system, they eat, they fuck, and they watch a romantic comedy. That’s it for them. They’ve looked into the abyss of mediocrity in an idiocratic coffee shop society that considers shopping malls as art galleries. How intensely exiting!
The line between sanity and insanity is not a straight blurred vector; nor is the line between normal and abnormal. It is a very clear fractal curve in a chaotic system swirling towards the event horison of an abysmal singularity leading to self discovery. Perhaps then, the only way to discover who you really are, is to step over that fractal curve and… kill someone… and fuck the corpse… and then eat the corpse…