Here’s the plot: A young boy goes to a burned down mansion and meets the ghosts of the homeless squatters that died in the fire. As a result he acquires “the Fright” and all of his hair falls out. The ghosts visit him in a dream and give him a recipe involving peanut butter to restore his hair. Overnight he gets a full head of hair, and his buddy feels inspired to put it on his balls. Their hair grows really long and they get suspended for distracting others from their head and ball hair. Then see the main kid’s hair so long he can barely move (fortunately they did not show his buddy) and he passes out. Somehow by screaming at his hair it stops growing. Problem solved– but no. A pissed off art teacher who hates kids and imagination (naturally two things an art teacher should hate) kidnaps all of the children and forces them to make brushes with the main character’s hair. Oh, and when those brushes are used whatever they paint becomes real. Of course one child draws the mansion and “the Fright” is passed from the kid to the art teacher who is then arrested. Of course.
That’s the plot. If it sounds like a bizarre, demented dream then you are not the only one. The vast majority of people who have seen this schizophrenic nightmare of a movie assume it was a bad dream. Most children, even if they lack the vocabulary, think “What the fuck” upon seeing this film.
The plot, if you could call it that, are vignettes of various childhood nightmares strung together by the very weak thread of the same actors throughout. Possibly this Canadian ‘masterpiece’ surpasses even Lynch or Cronenberg as disturbing– because of its sincerity of telling a bat guano crazy story to small children. The theatrical trailer insists its fun for the whole family, but I sincerely doubt that.