A desperate bid for internet fame quickly spirals into a grotesque and wildly absurd journey of self-delusion and decay. What happens when social media praise is more important than basic humanity?
Headcase explores the fine line between digital influence and a deranged ego. Blending dark comedy, horror, and satirical commentary, Spencer Zimmerman’s Headcase barrels forward with relentless pace, offering a warped glimpse into the hollow depths of online validation. While it toys with themes of mental health, morality, and identity, the film is far more interested in pushing boundaries than downplaying social media obsession.
Written by Zimmerman and Pat Moonie, the script thrives on cringe and chaos. The film starts with a cold opening. A gruesome accident that feels both sudden and darkly comic, sets the tone for what follows. Rather than unravel with guilt, Karen, played with disturbingly casual energy by Siobhan Connors, seizes the moment as an opportunity. She’s not here for reflection but for engagement, likes, and brand partnerships. Her spiral is immediate and loud, as she begins to document her life with the severed head of her victim.
That head, which becomes the catalyst of her descent, belongs to Brad, played by co-writer Pat Moonie, who delivers a bizarrely charming performance as the detached voice of reason, or confusion, amid the madness. Brad’s presence provides unexpected levity, his ghostly musings bouncing between bewilderment and disbelief. His confusion about being dead and disembodied becomes a strangely poignant counterbalance to Karen’s emotional vacancy. Their exchanges serve as the film’s central tension as one seeks answers, the other attention.
Connors’ portrayal of Karen walks the tightrope between parody and pathology. Her lack of remorse, constant self-curation, and performative vulnerability feel alarmingly real, even when her circumstances turn surreal. As Karen capitalizes on tragedy and spirals deeper into a disturbing relationship with her victim’s head, the film dares the audience to laugh, then immediately recoil. The film keeps you invested in determining how far she will go to pursue the influencer life.
Visually, Headcase leans into a dark, saturated color aesthetic. The editing is quick, erratic, and unsettling in the best way. The film never attempts to redeem Karen, and there’s no hero to root for. Instead, Headcase offers a blistering, satirical takedown of influencer culture and the commodification of trauma. It pokes at the performative nature of online empathy, the exploitation of mental illness for clout, and the terrifying ease with which someone can become desensitized to violence if it earns attention. Yet, it does so without preaching. The horror lies not in what happens, but in how believable it feels.
At its core, Headcase is a fast-paced descent into social media madness, filtered through deadpan humor and body horror. The paranormal twist only elevates the surrealism, keeping the audience off balance until its jarring final moments. In a world where content is everything, what happens when someone finds their voice only after silencing someone else? The film explores how a lack of self-awareness can cloud one’s judgment. For viewers seeking a darkly original, gut-punch satire that’s as disturbing as it is hilarious, Headcase offers a ride you won’t soon forget, even if you’d like to.
Fantasia 2025 runs from July 16th to August 3rd 2025