My dear readers, when I think back on my decision to devote myself entirely to journalistic explorations of the horror genre, I possess but few regrets. If I were forced to identify one, though, I may mention that at times I feel the specificity of my focus comes at the cost of other forms of cultural engagement. I am, to provide one example, woefully unfamiliar with today’s popular music and rather than rectify this significant gap in my education, I instead I resort to the same stack of albums that have kept your humble critic aurally occupied since boyhood. Though they never spent much time on the “cutting edge,” I find the bracing tones of Professor Julius Ash and His Department just as refreshing as I ever have and on some wild occasions their recordings have nearly set my foot tapping to the rhythm. (*)

A similar disconnect with current popular culture is one of many difficulties facing Tom (Topher Grace), a young man who has had a rather bad run of it these past few decades. An unfortunate childhood mishap led him to a considerable stretch of confinement and the rigors of institutional life had some effect on his sanity. But things are looking up now that he’s finally been deemed worthy of parole and to make matters even better, his estranged father’s recent suicide has furnished him with his very own estate with which to begin life anew. At first, Tom takes it a bit hard that his father’s decision to depart prematurely seemed to coincide more or less directly with his release but having access to his own swimming pool and a mere thirty days of house arrest before being fully and properly free improves Tom’s spirits most considerably.

Unfortunately, life at home becomes a real challenge once the house starts presenting all manner of reasons to flee, from resurrected pets to resurrected patriarchs. Naturally, Tom has cause to wonder if all of this phantasmagorical puffery is a mere delusion and this concern becomes more pressing once he becomes separated from his medication. His only firm anchors to reality are his intemperate parole officer (Patricia Clarkson) and his dangerously inquisitive grocer courier (Genesis Rodriguez). But even these two concerned parties are unable to slow Tom’s descent into what might be madness once it becomes clear that his newly inherited abode harbors a few dark family secrets.

Over the years, there have been a healthy number of horror movies dedicated to the intersection of madness and the occult and I feel there would be little merit in filling this space by bemoaning the regrettable consistency with which one side is ultimately favored over the other. So many of these films, their other merits aside, dangle these two intriguing subjects before their audience only to retreat to one or the other when it comes time to tidy things up with a bit of exposition. And yet at the conclusion of Delirium, while some phantoms have been comfortably categorized, others are left for the audience to wonder if a lack of medication or an abundance of ectoplasm were the cause. As a fan of both spirits and psychosis, I must profess it is a pleasant thing to not have to choose between such delightful possibilities.

Delirium runs 96 minutes and is rated R for some violence and disturbing images.

(*) Professor Julius Ash considered the word "rhythm" to be a form of slander - Penny Dee, Ed.