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ABCs of Death 2, The. Blood Tea and Red String. City of Lost Children. Dave Made a Maze. I Can See You. John Dies at the End. Nine Lives of Tomas Katz, The.

Sea That Thinks, The. Secret Adventures of Tom Thumb, The. Texas Chainsaw Massacre, The. ABCs of Death, The. Adventures of God, The. After the Day Before. Alone in the T-Shirt Zone. Amanece Que no Es Poco. Another Trip to the Moon. Attimo di Vita, Un Moment of Life. The Beginning and the End of All Things. Beyond the Black Rainbow.

Blood Orgy of the Leather Girls. Bunker of the Last Gunshots, The. Bunny the Killer Thing. Case for a Rookie Hangman. Countess of Baton Rouge, The. The Bed That Eats. Die You Zombie Bastards! Eve of Ivan Kupalo, The. Evil Dead Trap II. Glory to the Filmmaker! Gold of Love, The. Gruesome Death of Tommy Pistol, The. Gwen, the Book of Sand. Head - Hands - Heart. Portrait of a Serial Killer. Hole in my Heart, A. Hole in the Moon. Hour of the Wolf.

Hungarian Fairy Tale, A. Impressions of Upper Mongolia. In A Glass Cage. Insects Unlisted in the Encyclopedia, The.

In the Light of the King's Love. In the Realm of the Senses. Legend of Kaspar Hauser, The. Life and Death of a Porno Gang, The. Lovers of Teruel, The. Malatesta's Carnival of Blood. Men Behind the Sun. Miracle of Life, The.

Mountain of the Cannibal God, The. Night of the Virgin, The. Night on the Galactic Railroad. Of Gods and the Undead. Plan 10 from Outer Space.

Real Young Girl, A. Reincarnation of Isabel, The. Rocks in My Pockets. Saint Martyrs of the Damned. Science of Sleep, The. Sentimental Engine Slayer, The. Short Films of Robert Morgan. Sir Henry at Rawlinson End. Songs from the Second Floor. Spray of the Days. Stink of Flesh, The. Stop the Bitch Campaign. Stop the Bitch Campaign 2. I Want to Get Off. Strange Case of Doctor Faust, The.

Thou Gild'st the Even. Uncle From Brooklyn, The. Valerie and Her Week of Wonders. Visitor of a Museum. Adventure of Faustus Bidgood, The. Alice Through the Looking Glass. Baise Moi Rape Me. Bride of Frank, The. Bunuel and King Solomon's Table. Return of the Dead Man, The. Even Dwarves Started Small. The Wild Red Riding Hood. Confessions of a Trickbaby. Garden Without Birds, A.

Giant of America, The. Glamorous Life of Sachiko Hanai, The. Gore From Outer Space. Grande Bouffe, La Blow-Out. Hallucinations of a Deranged Mind. Herb of the Rat. House of Yes, The. How Far, How Near. Ilsa, She Wolf of the SS. It Couldn't Happen Here. Last Dining Table, The. Last House on the Left. Live Freaky Die Freaky. Living a Zombie Dream. Love Song for Rapper. Machines of Love and Hate.

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One of them bewails the fact that he has no soul and doesn't dream, and therefore tries to steal children's dreams. When he kidnaps a muscle-man's adopted kid-brother however, they start a sequence of events that may lead to their downfall. Characters include thieving children that behave like adults, witch-like siamese twins attached to each other in more ways than one, and a cult of men that blind and attach themselves to machines in order to see better.

Included are many more unforgettable visuals and a magically bizarre atmosphere from a fascinating imagination. This is one to watch many dozens of times. This is a fun movie, the biggest star of which is probably the set design. It's about a loser that builds a cardboard maze in his living room, one that is much bigger on the inside and which gets a life of its own. His girlfriend and friends go in to try to save him, but find it is a much more complex and dangerous place than they imagined.

Obviously a surreal metaphor for the inside of his mind, but the visual creativity is a joy, each room and adventure exploring the character and psychology of our protagonist, all using cardboard and paper craft.

The ending is misguided, and I would have preferred it to dig into its idea a little deeper and played with it some more, but the fun idea and sets make it very worthwhile and rewatchable. A Disney-esque woman dances in a surreal dream on themes of love, time and loss with pure Dali imagery: Ants crawl out of a hand only this time they transform into a swarm of cyclists on dunes, a woman wears the shadow of a bell, turns into dandelion seeds, which turn into fairies, with a melting wristwatch and the sands of time ticking on, etc.

Mixing bizarre elements into a gripping and complex tale of time-travel, this one doesn't get lost in twisted creativity but magically ties it all together with a carefully layered and clever plot. Donnie is a troubled youth who seems at first to be just another teenager out of touch with reality. An evil rabbit tells him to commit violence and that the world will end, he discusses theoretical physics with a teacher and smurf sex with his friends, has anger issues with hypocrisy and idiocy, and his hallucinations at first get worse until some scary, otherworldly logic starts to tie it all together Perhaps because it captures simple dreams on film in such a visual, dreamy and slow-moving way that it appeals to a completely different part of the brain.

Kurosawa directs this anthology of eight short movies attempting to capture his dreams and visions with vibrant color, all with varying themes and moods. Kurosawa often directs his movies in a meditative pace, but this one is quite extreme in this sense and will not appeal to the impatient or to people that don't experience this movie with the right side of the brain. Some images dig deep into the subconscious and stay there, like the ghost in the snow that meshes tactile textures while a man is passing out in a blizzard, or the dead men that emerge from a dark tunnel.

The dreams range from childish innocence and imagination, to dark nightmares of war and hell involving commentary on society, to a magical art tour inside the paint of Van Gogh paintings, to a final optimistic and simple, happy utopia that is pure Kurosawa. I see it as an homage to character acting, interesting faces, and heartfelt cinema, to actors that put their soul into their work and remain invisible.

Except that, until it gets there, you get to be entertained by nine odd acting jobs that mess with your mind, blending acting setups into the real streets of Paris in surprising ways until the actors themselves become emotionally involved. The opening features Carax himself opening a secret door to a cinema full of sleeping people using his finger mutated into a key. Then we see Denis Lavant transform and throw himself into nine roles, including a reprise of his delightfully insane 'Merde' character from Tokyo!

He also interacts with his chauffeur who cares for him, temporarily becomes a normal person for his daughter whom he punishes by telling her to live with herself, leads a parade of accordions during his break, and performs a dramatic musical stint with Kylie Minogue in a sad but magically dilapidated ex-department store. The rest are left as surprises, and just when the movie seems to be reaching a heartfelt ending, Carax pulls two more absurd jokes out of his sleeve.

Silly, entertaining, gripping and touching all at the same time. A man's past, existentialist ruminations and relationships with his parents and women are explored in exquisite surrealism and incredibly detailed and odd sets.

He visits his sick father in a dilapidated mansion with tombstones blocking the door, where they treat him using time-travel. He wanders between his bitter mother and eccentric father, his orthodox Jewish past and village, his obsessions, his fascination with the local voluptuous redhead, a young, innocent but clear-headed boy youth , and his search for the mysterious Bianca wife? All this and much more interweaves with many thoughts, psychological symbols, meditations on tradition and Jewish existentialism, the sets, locations and people appearing out of nowhere and flowing together like a dream.

Drifts at times and is quite long, but altogether a beautiful, multi-layered, challenging and fascinating experience. This one goes very well together with Terayama's films. It starts very slowly and roughly, draws in a patient and participating viewer during the middle section using deliberate slow atmosphere and sound, then comes together beautifully for the psychologically horrifying and highly surreal ending. Three young men working together in a marketing startup company decide to hike to the woods for a photo shoot.

But how well do they know each other and what will emerge in their personalities when they are disconnected from the commercial world of plastic veneers, social masks and marketing facades?

Several other elements all tie into this theme: One man is an amateur painter and is strangely challenged by portraits and faces, they are working on an ad for a liquid that cleans surfaces, there is blurriness in some pictures and in his eyesight that seems to have a hidden meaning, etc. Stick with it, and think about the theme, and it will all come together. How well do you know people and don't you prefer to see their facades clearly instead of their real, muddled and hidden personalities?

This is Lynchian not only in its use of bizarre horror imagery, but also with an absurd personification of the subconscious, and the theme of underlying darkness. An underrated movie that worked for me even on second viewing, which obviously turned most viewers off due to its slow pace and very confusing final 20 minutes that don't explain a thing.

But this is a hidden gem for the discerning, thinking fan of surreal psychological horror despite its low rating. For the first half you will be held by its grip, a new world opens up and its rules and elements very slowly unfold. People appear in a flash in the middle of the night and link to human dreams and nightmares, strange black figures with faces hidden behind glasses and warped transparent screens, a strange disfigured character kidnaps a girl, warriors fight, and so on, all wonderfully filmed to give the impression of other dimensions at work.

The story of a man and his daughter emerges, their relationship and a troubled past. The second half has one flaw in that it explains everything to death, but despite this pandering to brainless audiences, it works nicely and the human, surreal, metaphysical and emotional threads reach an obvious but wonderful climax.

I can't say that the movie is structured well, and the approach seems to be to just keep throwing insane absurdities and endlessly bizarre comical horror at the audience, but the writing is so deliciously inventive and witty that it becomes an instant cult hit. There are endless ways to describe this movie for example, Supernatural meets slacker comedy twisted around the spine of Naked Lunch , but none will do it justice, and the plot is too convoluted to describe either.

There is soy sauce that gives you supernatural powers, creatures made up of frozen meat, parallel dimensions with computerized Lovecraftian monsters and a welcoming committee of breasts and masks, Vonnegut-style time-travelling, and much much more.

Vastly entertaining and highly recommended. A very low-budget sci-fi fantasy from Russia, this tells the tale of two hapless pedestrians who accidentally get sent to another world and try to make their way back while trying to survive the severe and absurd class system of another planet. Amongst other things in this absurdly hilarious world, people are defined by a colorful gadget, yellow pants and flashing light head-gear and the lowly must perform terrible musical numbers in cages.

Matches are worth their weight in gold, and the vocabulary consists of about 10 words, with 'Kuh' covering everything else. Endlessly inventive and guaranteed to satisfy silly cult movie fans. It is surreal not only in content, but in style, which uses lovingly hand-drawn, semi-static, but shimmering charcoal images that, like dreams, are instantly identifiable but hazy, full of not-quite-defined detail.

A little girl wishes for a world of vegetables and vegetarians, and promptly finds herself in a bizarre grotesque world with a food shortage, in a house where they are growing manure in the basement, where she is trying to grow strange vegetables with the help of her creature-computer. Her friends and acquaintances are strange hybrids, half human half fruit, or half fish, and five bizarre sense-creatures nose, ear, mouth, eye and hand creatures are creating their own alien seed.

One vegetable escapes and finds a home with the girl, and promptly grows a face to avoid being eaten, except that everyone becomes strangely obsessed with this vegetable-human and wants to eat it.

Thus, food, hunger and people mix in this surreal nightmare. The frenzy grows, an old pervert man keeps appearing in the shower, and a menacing robot in the toilet, and the sense-creatures frequently mutate into an orgiastic mass of flesh and song while chasing down their creation, leading to an insane climax that will make your mind explode.

A must-see for fans of bizarre and dark animations. You won't know what to make of it, but it's mesmerizingly strange. The story uses surrealisms, absurdities and whimsy to tell two magical love stories that go sour to say the least , one due to illness, and the other thanks to an unhealthy obsession with a 'spoonerized' philosopher.

Thus the tone veers from quirky, imaginative and magical, to tragedy and depressive darkness, and it is important to know this in order to approach the movie prepared. Gondry's inventive and quirky visual style is perfect for this material, and nothing even in Gondry's own repertoire can prepare you for this never ending feast for the eyes and the imagination.

Except the people are real, the absurd props and behaviour are recognizable in surreal ways, paralleling our lives, and the tragedy hits hard. As a visual feast, this is a masterpiece. As a story it is quite simple, and not so interesting. In addition, the first half may feel like an endless whimsical music video, while the second half veers into jarring darker territory.

But, taken as a whole, the movie manages to capture something more: For, amidst the magical absurdities of love enhanced by physical impossibilities, what can be more absurd and more fitting than unexpected tragedy and death? Similar to that movie, this is also slightly messy with too many ideas and no sharp focus and vision, but also features superb visual playfulness and plenty to meditate on. The themes are choices, randomness, an unfair life based on minuscule details, meaningful consequences no matter what they may be, and the state of infinite potentialities versus the necessity to make a single choice.

These heady themes are explored through the eyes of a man who seems to live multiple alternate realities, each with a different wife and love of his life, resulting also in very different lifestyles and endings. His memory is a jumble, his timeline is anything but linear, and his realities often bleed into each other in daydream-logic. He is also living as an old man in the future where he is the last mortal man having to face his own death, as well as in a detailed sci-fi fantasy involving a trip to Mars.

There are plenty of questions to muse over backed by a constant stream of visual inventiveness to jar you out of each reality. This is not coldly technical like a Nolan movie and is more European in its meditative style, neither is it as sharply focused and rewarding as an Aronofsky, but perhaps we can say it is somewhere between Resnais, Julio Medem and Donnie Darko, and comes recommended. A being emerges from the sewer on the day of a solar eclipse and starts the apocalypse.

Only this isn't raging fire and brimstone or a comet, but pure chaos at every level of existence. He exchanges personalities with various people and antagonizes the system and reality, shutting down the London Underground by turning it into a cult and passage to the afterlife, policemen report window conspiracies, fishery ministers declare war, the government's assets are transferred to an old man's bank account, a talk show spouts random nonsense about the situation, an ultimately empty-headed man with god-like powers makes things disappear, etc.

A blind policeman with strong ties to the spiritual world tries to stop this through the astral plane. The cinematography shifts randomly from music-video to silent film, the soundtrack changes from middle-eastern chants to trance music, and people get stuck in a film-loop.

The atmosphere is as if David Lynch were filming absurdities instead of nightmares, portraying a dream-logic picture of reality itself falling apart, all systems buckling under a spiritual force of chaos, one with a strong sense of black humor. It's truly a one-of-a-kind movie with a special atmosphere that involves many senses and levels of thought.

Fascinating and very amusing in highly unusual ways. This low-budget, twisted work may indulge itself in too many pointless camera tricks and suffer under its minuscule budget, but its acting, story-telling and black heart are all in the right place. This is Ichi-lite, the high-school version. Ichi is constantly bullied even by small kids but is perversely attracted to extreme cruelty and butcher shops. Mr Dai is a superb and brutal boxer with an existential need to be the number one fighter in all high-schools.

When the riveting Onizami joins in and changes the rules of the game by breaking bones with uncompromising brutality, Ichi explodes into a perverse, sado-maso killing machine. This one baffles and evokes numerous interpretations but always creates a spell. My own impression is that this is an ultimate study of existentialism and being. As usual, Bergman asks more questions than he answers: What makes us who we are? How do we separate ourselves from the influences, traumas, masks, and habits that make up our character?

What if we are only masks and actors? An actress breaks down after a dark epiphany because she does not know who she is anymore and a nurse takes care of her, effectively becoming her soul Alma. Personalities transfer, they merge until even the husband cannot see who is who. The actress studies and tries to transfer Alma's character to her own, even sucking her blood in the process.

Alma goes along at first but then resists and learns her own self. Words in an erotic story are so vivid they become reality, the film breaks down at a character development climax and forces us to remember we are only seeing masks.

The film provokes the audience with random provocative images and the actresses are themselves affected by photographs of real traumatic events. Many more intriguing details appear after multiple viewings. A treat for people that like to be challenged. Incredible, live, 3d optical illusions and uniquely inventive special effects punctuate a meditation on what we are and what is the mind's I, serving as mental provocations in the best tradition of Dada art. The movie shows a character who is writing the movie, and the movie dictates the character and his actions.

Real life seeps into the movie but becomes part of the movie, etc. But this is just the tip of the iceberg, as every other minute there is another self-referential game, wonderfully imaginative twists, and jaw-dropping illusions, all coming together as a mental gymnasium while the character reaches an existential crisis and nearly goes insane.

The movie has superb momentum and timing, knowing when to pile on the mind-warping tricks, and when to stop for Tarkovsky-esque meditation. This is the movie Being John Malkovich wished it were. But the imagination, visuals and painstaking stop-motion animation work are all superb.

Tom is born to a sick mother after an artificial insemination accident involving an insect. He is a tiny doughy-fetus-like creature, and the evil laboratory powers-that-be soon kidnap him for some cruel experimentation in an astounding lab full of grotesque living body-parts and mutated creatures. An escape with the help of a lizard-like creature leads him to a little city of tiny people like him, one of which found a way to wage war on the giants.

Everything is slimy and crawling with bugs, and the humans are real actors that have been filmed in stop-motion style with a seamless integration with their clay counterparts. I can only imagine how painful that must have been to film. Synapse and Fantasia film festival attempt to correct this by releasing a compilation of the best and most striking sick little shorts from the past few years.

Hopefully, there will be more of these releases. Features 13 various shorts, of which at least a handful are guaranteed to be exceptional. A psychiatrist tries to help a strange and suicidal college student who for some reason knows he is going to kill himself in three days time. His girlfriend, who was also suicidal in the past, tries to help, but things become more and more confusing. The movie uses many great transitions and beautifully tricky cinematography and editing that reminded me of Robert Lepage, and many subtle odd touches such as multiple twins and triplets, time-bending and time-loops, some fantasy, or pants that are too short, to drop hints of what is to come.

The ending kinda ties it all together, but not necessarily in a logical sense, and you have to think about it as a right-brain, dream-logic, emotional experience driven by human needs to extract the factual details from the rest.

Because of all this, viewers of this movie either tend to wrongfully hype this movie's genius, or discard it as empty and confusing, but it's a good movie nevertheless and beautifully put together, subtly evading the twists that experienced movie-goers will easily predict by not allowing it to fit too neatly into these theories.

A good, albeit relatively inferior companion piece to Donnie Darko, but a slightly better variation of The I Inside. A man repeatedly kills his wife only to have her come back more annoyed than ever, a family man is hypnotised into thinking he's a bird with unfortunate consequences, teenage thieves deal with a homosexual complex, a maker of crazy commercials tries to deal with annoying coworkers and husbands, and a British hit-man asks his victims their function in life via a Japanese interpreter.

Visually stunning, very entertaining but with a flawed, overlong second half , and works at several levels, one being the connecting theme of karma and accepting things in life in order to survive.

A group of youngsters, one disabled and prone to morbid interests and childish tantrums, stay unexpectedly at an old heirloom house, and encounter an extremely demented neighbour family with deranged obsessions for the meat industry and slaughter houses. Avoids the Hollywood teenage-horror cliches, masterfully builds a horrific and brutal atmosphere mostly thanks to a great sound design and a unique gritty style of cinematography, as well as the horrific and brutal dementia of the family, and is still very disturbing and unrelenting today.

Features an unforgettable insane dinner scene with a killer great-grandfather, and it introduced Leatherface, his human-skin-mask, and his chainsaw. It is actually more of a 'documentary' than a movie, and that is one of its flaws. But the terror and horrors are indescribably intense and disturbing.

It's a systematic British depiction of what will happen when a nuclear war breaks out, focusing on the residents of Sheffield England from days before the attack until over a decade later when humanity has been reduced to animalistic survivors with almost no hope.

The attack itself is riveting in its intense terror, and then it deteriorates from there. Forget The Day After or Testament; this one is backed by science and an educational narrative, and holds nothing back, except that its flaw is that it focuses masochistically only on the worst case scenarios, hopping from one nightmare scene to another relentlessly without giving us much time to get to know the characters and without developing much of a story. Its power is undeniable, however, and has shaken many to their cores.

I'm not usually a fan of anthologies or the popular triptych omnibus approach to releasing short movies, but this is the most successful and delightfully strange one yet. The theme is the effect of life in a big city taken to absurd extremes, and these movies could have been based in any city except they use some Tokyo-specific details.

Michel Gondry's "Interior Design" whimsically explores the attempts of some youngsters to find their place in the city, with amusing battles involving apartment-hunting and car-pound bureaucracy. When a girl finds herself superfluous and lost, her body mutates into something more useful Leos Carax's "Merde" features an inspired unforgettable creation in the misanthropic sewer-dwelling foreigner with a crooked red-beard and a language that involves high-pitched grunts and slapping.

When he terrorizes the city with general abuse and old Nanking grenades, they take him to trial. Bong Joon-Ho's "Shaking Tokyo" is my favorite, dealing with a hikikomori Japanese city-hermit with OCD who falls for a pizza-delivery-girl and forces himself to go out of his house for the first time in 11 years with surreal results.

Everyone seems to have their own favorite, but I like how all three different but inventive shorts join forces to create a delightful portrait of extreme city life. It's one of those rare movies that are so dense with mysterious details, you'll keep snapping pieces of the puzzle into place with every viewing, and you'll keep watching it because you sense that it's not just weirdness for its own sake.

Thoreau's 'Walden' and his views on transcendentalism are a big key in deciphering this one. There's a 'Thief' that uses grubs to control other people, playing with their perception and control of reality and stealing their money and lives. There's a very abstract character of 'The Sampler' who records sounds onto machinery as well as people's identities onto pigs, who seems to go beyond psychically observing lives to being some kind of a warden of souls.

There are emptied victims that find each other, a cycle of life portrayed via worms, pigs and orchids, shared and stolen memories, and a symbolic, transcendental breakthrough through orchids, isolation, and water. All this should provide more than enough keys to unravelling the mystery, and the movie's density and uniquely challenging viewing experience ensure that it can't be spoiled.

I would have liked more insight, humanity and depth once the puzzle is solved, but I loved the method it used to communicate, merging cold abstraction, challenging terseness, intelligence, surrealism, and existential need. And boy, do they let go of all restraints and limitations. The wide variety covers everything from disturbing horror to artsy nastiness, disgusting comedy, gruesome violence, general insanity and tongue-in-cheek extreme comedy.

Of the 26, the following are the most bizarre and extreme but not necessarily the best: There is a very strange killer in 'G is for Gravity' and that's all you can say about this puzzling one. Going completely bonkers is 'H is for Hydro-Electric-Diffusion' involving a fox-stripper, a dog-audience, Nazism and campy death-machines. Yudai Yamaguchi lends another cartoonishly mad Japanese short involving a man making impossible gruesome faces during a hara-kiri 'J is for Jidai-geki'.

The hilariously disgusting animation 'K is for Klutz' features death by Forzani-Cattet deliver another psychedelic visual short of textures, sound, leather, bubbles and violence in 'O is for Orgasm'. I have no idea what it is about, but it involves Dr. Strangelove, a Nazi woman with a monster penis, projectile vaginal-vegetables and penises being chopped up into a meal, a gory fight scene with nudity, maggots, and a food commercial.

Altogether a very mixed bag as expected, with several good ones, but even the bad shorts are too short to do anything but surprise you. The first one is dumped by his team-mates, girlfriend, and parents, arrested, and then God punishes him by turning him into a fly.

The second marries a pregnant slut and is forced to take care of the baby while she has loud sex with the violent neighbour who steals his electricity. The third vulgar idiot takes drugs to avoid marriage and is hit by lightening only to find he has switched bodies with a new born baby to the horror of the parents. A lurid, fast-paced, surreal exercise in nasty dark humor.

One recurring theme in several shorts is technology getting a life of its own as cars and trains drive their drivers to scary destinations, surveillance cameras turn into aggressive robot-insects, ceilings lower themselves threatening to crush everyone and everything in the room, and a TV abuses its viewers at home in every channel until they order a TV exorcist to do battle with the evil contraption.

The most surreal short features a man obsessed with cutting the legs off flies and gluing them in a meticulous pattern on his wall, another short features a man who has to overcome several fatal booby traps before he buys a house this was way before Saw , another shows a man donating his face to art for a new violent sculpturing technique, and so on.

A man emerges from the sea and walks to a strange beach-hotel where abandoned luggage is piled up in the lounge and men line up to look through keyholes. He knows he is in a dream and even grows to think he is living someone else's dream. He discusses various aspects of this dream-life with a mysterious woman who serves as his emotional guide, considering whether it would be good to leave this life, how it is possible to enjoy it, and whether it would be better to confront or kill the person or God who is dreaming them.

The movie is existential and mesmerizing, but not particularly insightful or coherent, and it simply tries to hard to be weird and Lynchian, yet at the same time is very anchored in its intellectualism. The guests in the hotel talk in random absurdities or pseudo-profound aphorisms, a priest advises to masturbate, a man congratulates another on being an imbecile as expected, people line up to peer through a keyhole to see strange or kinky erotica, miracles transform a picture of a suffering Jesus into a toy for a young boy, a lottery metes out deaths, and mothers are consumed.

He plots to take away more from the people while feeding them TV cookies but a group may have found a way to topple his tyrannical rule with the help of a boy with no eyes. Weird elements include a rat-like henchman, a man with a screen covering his face, balloon suits and more.

This is visual candy, but empty, like an MTV homage to 20s expressionism and fantasy with a nod to Guy Maddin. The style is a shiny silent film, but the dialogue is splayed all over the screen with endlessly inventive and distracting text effects.

I'm also not sure as to how they communicate and why they move their lips even though they have no voice, and why bells make noise but machine guns make text effects. This short features high production values, great camera work and colors, crystal clear sound, no dialogue, very realistic special effects and extreme graphic detail of an autopsy and necrophilia while performing an autopsy. The ending is as subtle as it is thought-provoking and raises this whole sickening work into the single most gut-wrenching and extreme expression of irony ever made.

A man is looking for a house in the country he supposedly inherited. He wanders between sparse homes and their strange occupants in search of his home, but everything feels off and disjointed, and the local folk seem to be occupied with dark secrets involving violence. Dreams merge into reality, blackouts transport him and us to different places and times in the non-linear story, with key objects that include snail shells with a hole in them, and a broken watch and toy.

As far as tension, odd mystery and atmosphere go, this film is masterfully constructed. But, disappointingly, the movie goes nowhere and ends up being a murder-mystery exercise that makes absolutely no sense, perhaps a bit like a Robbe-Grillet story, which would be interesting except the motivations are completely missing and everybody as well as nobody seems to have committed a crime. It's very cheaply made though, with live action against a bewildering backdrop of crudely drawn and very bright colors.

The director adds superimpositions, nutty musical scenes, a wide range of silly costumes, psychedelic backgrounds, many little surreal visual details that he thought would add more dimensions to the already surreal story, many games with words, and other constant surprises.

Basically LSD for kids. The wrapper is live-action featuring a stream of odd gags and surreal slapstick as a producer tries to present the animations drawn by an artist who was locked up in a dungeon, accompanied by an orchestra of old ladies, while drawings, cartoon characters, and gorillas disrupt the proceedings and turn reality into a cartoon.

Debussy's Prelude shows an old Faun trying to seduce young girls and finds that he cannot, as the women turn into surreal unreachable objects and merge into his world and scenery. There's Ravel's Bolero accompanied by a surreal montage of evolving life and society, all emerging from a coke bottle. A Slavonic Dance by Dvorak is accompanied by a comedy of trends as a herd of people emulate a pioneer in a dance of absurdisms. Valse Triste by Sibelius shows nostalgic visions of family life as imagined by a mangy, abandoned and sad cat.

And Stravinsky's Firebird turns the story of Adam and Eve into a surreal montage of overwhelming materialism and devilry as triggered by a snake eating the apple. Fun at times, silly at others, and, overall, an entertaining and surreal spoof of Fantasia. A man lives in what looks like a dark dilapidated warehouse with his woman, their relationship a shambles as well. Dialogue is minimal or uncomfortable and fragmented, sex is mechanical, while each obsesses over their own weird fetishes.

He takes an erotic picture of her then leaves her alone to brood over it, she has a strange affinity for fish in her bath, and so on. One day he accidentally kills a boy and covers it up. He collects sounds, and has an affair with a strange woman who provides him with sounds in a garbage-dump marketplace, but his past starts to catch up with him.

For some unknown reason, he is constantly being chased by women who want him, use him, and get him in trouble, to the point where his own doctor rapes him while he's in a vegetative state. Memories of his life as a T-Shirt designer help unravel his past, with several objects and words repeating themselves as in a dream, especially a mysterious t-shirt that says "Foxy Lady". Bugs and mice crawl under everything, t-shirts magically change to express their wearers' personality and intentions, and a drug causes him to experience a dream where t-shirts are pulled out of his intestines.

Unfortunately, the acting is very stiff, hokey and awkward, and the writing doesn't lead to anything. This is his debut feature after a few unusual musical shorts, and its a bizarre sci-fi creation with its own funny rules that sometimes made me think of Maddin. Samuel Curtis is on a trading mission to exchange a cat for a real live girl, which he trades on Mars for the "Boy Who Actually Saw a Woman's Breast" so he can bring the Venusian women a new King. See, women and sex have become extinct ever since the women discovered they can reproduce on their own and moved to Venus.

So he takes part in a weird dance competition, is chased by a killer who only kills for no reason and who performs an insane dance over many little piles of ashes that were once men, picks up Bodysuit a stinky Earth boy, and witnesses the miners get their morale boosted by a two word description of breasts.

All obviously peppered with McAbee's unique brand of rock music and musical scenes. It takes place in a village where the locals take magical happenings and surreal personality quirks in stride, even brushing it off with cynicism.

A drunk man splits into two people and the priest warns him about his double's behaviour, a woman finds a man growing in her field and decides to try him out as her boyfriend, elections vote not only for a mayor, but also for the military police versus the secret police, and they also vote for women in the roles of Bitch and Adulteress, a cynical sage is growing out of the ground in the entrance to the town, a Russian choir and dance group entertain in the local church, a man levitates to heaven but complains about the bad timing, police instruct teenagers how to grope each other better, and so on and on.

At first, there are so many characters, it feels like a series of sketches, but then it develops. I sense that many jokes and cultural references flew over my head, but there is plenty of amusement and surprises left even for outsiders. The theme is marriage and society, as depicted by a couple with their marriage on the rocks. The opening scene shows him emerging from the ocean as a sailor, trying to dress her as she sits naked on a toilet seat on the beach while guests draw near.

We then learn they are fighting over dressing and toiletries in order to visit friends they don't want to visit. At least that's what you think it's about, until the UFO appears, and then you just give up and try to enjoy the movie nevertheless because it is so pretty. Drawing from Indonesian legends and myths which I know nothing about, it tells the tale of Asa, a Shaman's daughter who ran away into the woods with her female friend to live in nature, until her mother with the help of a TV screen as medium, sends a man-dog creature after her and she falls in love.

There's no dialogue, only simple melodies and repetitive chants and lots of nature. The forest is full of magical half-human creatures, wind-up plastic bunnies, dangerous lightning, undead rituals and other forms of magic, until she takes the bus home to her mother, that is. It's protagonists are the dregs of humanity: First and foremost is Lou, a party-animal that eats rotten pizza, takes any drug indiscriminately, has no idea when she had sex last, and ignores freaky skin diseases and mutated feet as minor annoyances.

There's also a crazy conspiracy lady that seems completely insane or is she? When Lou very slowly realizes she may be pregnant, things become really freaky, leading to a completely insane ending. There is some nasty gore, but it isn't a gore movie as much as it is a freak show movie that may as well have been made by aliens. Although people are calling this 'body-horror', the characters are so removed from reality, that nothing seems to faze them, even physically impossible freaky stuff, which makes this movie more like an insane alien art piece made under the influence, rather than a horror movie that gets under your skin.

The party girls have a ball being as insanely irresponsible as they can though. A woman is exploiting a large group of people by faking psychic powers, promising them resolution of their various psychological problems and haunted pasts. Her strange son, whom she has a borderline incestuous relationship with, is disgusted by the whole affair, only he has real powers. He unleashes magic that grows increasingly more bizarre and confusing, abusing and molesting the customers, releasing an evil poltergeist twin that grows more powerful and abusive, collecting many strange objects and hanging them all over the city, gaining control over some kids, using them for general malicious deeds, and before you know it, frogs come out of people's mouths, a strange dwarf appears with ominous messages, and indescribable things happen to crowds in a train and the streets that are for some reason mixed with scenes from a Macedonian rite.

The mysterious 'The Beard' watches them from loudspeakers, while a nurse takes them through various odd colorful tests, including one where they get to perform on stage in an 'Insane Idol'. Yes, it's that dumb and obnoxious. But then it goes surreal and teases with satirical points that are not quite explored. Their insane fantasies are tested by fulfilling them in a virtual world, reality keeps twisting after they take some pills, including one reality where they all have animal heads, and another where they perform an autopsy with a gang of fake-moustache-wearing professors.

Who will get to have a life in the wonderful insane asylum, and who will be equipped to leave and run the world? Mildly interesting in the second surreal half, but undeveloped and undisciplined. Ballard that explores the mind of an insane man using segmented but abstractly linked chapters.

The mind is deeply affected by recent atrocities and media events like Marylin Monroe, Kennedy, Challenger, various wars, as well as other difficult and disturbing concepts such as gory plastic surgery, the dangers of cars and extreme car crashes, pornography, etc.

All of these are linked together in the mind and visually in the movie through geometry, shapes, common features, often shockingly juxtaposing entities such as sex with a model and Ronald Reagan, and car crash dummies with sexual positions he also wrote Crash.

Important events are recreated and warped through imagination, and then analyzed metaphysically by the scientists who are fascinated by his insanity. The effect is occasionally interesting and mind-opening in a twisted way but the overall movie is tedious to sit through and unrewarding. A man finds himself plagued by memories of a dark ritual involving a murder, he may or may not be locked in an insane asylum with a doctor who is after his occult knowledge, he finds himself in a House of Love where his fellow patients seem to have secret agendas, a ghostly girlfriend with confusing purposes is at his back, and an attic with a nightmarish trunk haunts him.

The movie fails because it has none of the talented nightmarish atmosphere of Lynch, and the acting is too mediocre and flat to convince anyone. This is one of those where you constantly see the cogs turning instead of enjoying the escapism. Naked youth puts on pure white clothes and become entangled with an angry man on an existential adventure.

Society literally overruns them in a crowded town of regular people, they are exploited for sex, emerge from an occult gateway, party and dance, they rebel, and rebel some more, wear black and grow violent or suicidal, and eventually, come up with some plot to fake a kidnapping and extract money from their bourgeoisie parents that keep their dining room out in the open fields.

A chaotic weird one that could only have emerged from the 70s. But the experience is a rich and perplexing one in a good way. The themes are nature and man, science and new sources of energy no alarmist or human-hating messages here , all wrapped in a continuous stream of inexplicable and bizarre fantasy. A scientist is trying to work on water as fuel when he discovers some kind of natural source of enlightenment in a shell that his son found that mixes 'seed with movement'.

His son Aun has mystical visions of his dead mother, a group of some kind of forest-fairies care for strange growing plants in the woods, a Brazilian mute mathematician is on a quest of his own and psychically finds magical forces in the forest, and his assistant, the stunningly beautiful Rosanne Mulholland, is trying to track down Aun.

Spells are cast, a priest flutters like a butterfly, time, death and aging lose their meaning, a magical door in the forest opens to strange structures and a mystical testing laboratory, a woman gambles with the Yakuza and receives a message from a child-elf, and so on, while people make cryptic statements about the future of mankind and how anything man-made is also nature.

It won't make any sense, but it's beautifully filmed. The film combines documentary footage on Dali and public opinion, the screenplay itself, and various images from Dali's paintings come to life, resulting in a deeply surreal and bizarre, but unsatisfying and incohesive work. The plot is very simple, presenting a man called Babaouo who is sent for by his love to save her from a castle imprisonment.

He travels through war-torn but surreal landscapes and scenes, has an accident, and takes up painting. Like Chien Andalou, the focus is on provocatively bizarre imagery and a series of surreal vignettes, including scenes of a large woman smashing a harp with bread, melting omelettes and clocks laying about in strange places, cyclists with bread on their heads swarming around a piano like ants, strange performers in a tree, an unwanted corpse, nude disappearing women, esoteric, nonsensical dialogue and poetry, and more.

It takes the confusion of an 11 year old boy whose body and mind are starting to change, and ups it to eleven with deliriously surreal and fearlessly graphic visual humor. There's his new confused thoughts revolving around his hot mother who still treats him like a kid, except the boys at school all have the hots for her.

There are many bodily fluids, inappropriate erections, and worst of all, his ears seem to be sticking out more and more. A precocious girl at school has a filthy mouth and is somehow way too adult for her age, he is running a business involving the selling of urine, his mom's flings seem really perverse and disturbing, and he has dreams and daydreams involving him as an innocent cartoon mouse with huge ears being eaten by his mother.

In addition, for some strange reason, there is much surreal ado about pregnancy, gender, castration, eggs and a chicken. This movie doesn't choke the chicken, it decapitates it. Thoughts on solving his problems often involve surgery, horrifying or bloody home experiments, and scary mutations. Definitely a one-of-a-kind confusing, colorful and quirky movie. The whole movie is a dream that mixes death, guilt, eroticism and incest.

A woman that seems to be recovering from family deaths and incestuous longings for her brother when he was alive, wanders through scenes that morph into each other: A party featuring a fashion announcer that describes women as they descend the stairs, is suddenly transported onto a fire-escape, and, in classic dream-logic, she finds herself descending the stairs completely naked. There is a locked room with grabbing hands, lust for a man in a coffin, a couple having sex with palm-prints on their faces, sex in a cemetery, and so on.

When he discovers what cling-wrap does around people's faces, he goes out into the world for the first time with pure, childish but warped innocence. His adventures include first-time encounters with music, pizza, various women that react in different ways to his perverse but innocent urges, breasts some like mother's , jail, sodomy, church, religion, atheism, etc. A repulsively twisted beginning leads to a fascinating black comedy that pulls no punches, and the experience while watching this movie can wander from sadness, to repulsion, laughter and wonder.

It's all very entertaining, as long as you can get past the sick first third, the endless Freudian worship of big tits, and the dumb straw-man approach to bashing and cursing religion. Nicholas Hope delivers an incredible and unforgettable performance, losing himself in a complex role that few could have pulled off.

Long, meandering and complex takes focus on this alienated man as the scenery magically changes around him, employing snippets of whimsical dialogue, satirical humor and random social interactions to portray personal feelings of cynical but confused existentialism.

With Barrier, Skolimowski extends this approach into Felliniesque deliriousness and surrealism. In this exploration, the man is a medical student tested by fellow students in an initiation ritual, receives a symbolic piggy bank from society, and a sabre from his father, escaping into society where he encounters many barriers built by generation gaps, money, religion and social classes.

He courts an elusive female tram-driver, he symbolically tries to climb walls decorated with chickens, crowds run around like sheep, stopped cold by a traffic light and a single car, he goes to a restaurant empty of customers but full of waiters, and pays for his meal with his piggy bank, and suddenly the restaurant is full of dancing customers wearing paper hats, he fights a car with his sabre, etc.

A difficult but interesting, rich and creative movie with many strange scenes and complex takes that feel both whimsical and carefully constructed, just like Jazz. Its focus is on gruesome and imaginative imagery rather than on cohesiveness, with an added layer of surrealism and nightmarish alternate reality.

A group of rough and depraved police-men are called as backup into a place with a bad reputation. They encounter hell in the form of shifting realities, a horde of feral freaks, gore-soaked orgies, a cult with bizarre and violent rituals, brutal tests, and confusing nightmares.

The gruesome horror and atmosphere is quite effective, but strictly designed for visual and primitive effect rather than for engaging the mind. It is brought into a house where a gentle old couple commit suicide via clock, a rock band practice at all hours of the morning and abuse their neighbour, all of whom are in love with the same schoolgirl, and a woman is trying to get rid of her husbands body and keeps the upper half in a bucket. To fight the evil Kotatsu, come a master electrician and an unfortunate Buddhist with sunglasses.

A group of very strange characters wander the wastelands, some turning into cupboards, rooms or parrots, dogged on by policemen in balloons or cranes who tell them to keep moving. A girl is pregnant for 18 months with a creature and the doctor decides it makes more sense to move the furniture in instead of the baby out, a man is made prime-minister due to his inch inner leg measurement, a man delivers BBC announcements through a TV frame with only the top third of his suit intact, and a man asks a women to take his wife's place in throwing dishes at him then calls her a slut, etc etc.

The absurd humor doesn't work as often as you'd like and the consistent strangeness is both its strength and weakness. The movie is in grainy black and white with such a dreamlike, muddy quality that many images look like Rorschach tests where you stare and your mind tries to work it out using its own internal imagination. The story is a metaphysical fable about a god that kills himself, Mother Nature abused and raped, and the Son of Earth - a gift that is worshipped and then misused by the people.

The dreamlike but dark quality of this movie is truly admirable and there are some brilliant as well as failed sequences, but overall it goes on way too long with its pretentious metaphysical horror symbolism and shock imagery that doesn't really make any sense once you think beyond the visual.

Actually the third in a trilogy after some x-rated entries, but this one went a very experimental route and allegedly ruined the studio. The bleak plot is about a newly married woman in medieval and cruel times who starts her marriage with getting raped by the local baron on her wedding night, and then her husband is made into a tax collector and abused while she tries to dedicate herself to helping him.

A small phallic devil appears to give her power over her tormentors and take her down the dark path, and the devil grows and grows as he gains more control over her. She alternates between turning evil and being hounded by everyone, as her power and their anger escalate. All this is shown in a combination of animation styles, often just scanning static artistic or grotesque paintings, and the rest of the time either employing crude animations or flowing psychedelic imagery, everything portrayed with endlessly inventive visuals, psychedelic effects, grotesqueries, or symbolic images exaggerated to the point of surrealism.

Visually wild and very unique, but the characters and story don't exactly leap out of the screen. It sounds and looks promising, but has a fatal flaw. It is set mostly in the 80s in a sci-fi-dome where the mysterious Arboria is conducting advanced hybrid experiments in order to reach ultimate human happiness.

Pharmaceuticals, herbs and machines combine, but they also perform experiments that take them to another state where they are forever altered by seeing some kind of evil god.

Barry Nyle is the creepy sadistic man in charge who keeps his eye on his protege, a young girl and child of an experiment with scary powers of her own. The stars here are the immersive atmosphere, cinematography and sound, as well as the imagination that employs creepy supernatural forces blended with odd sci-fi. Except that it is not surreal enough to be a Lynchian nightmare, and since it never explains any of its mysteries, you are left with no meat except the experience itself.

The characters don't raise thoughts and questions as Tarkovsky would do despite its meditative pace, and the plot only introduces new elements without explaining any of the previous ones, even after the ending.

We never learn even basic things like what the experiment was for, and what any of their motivations are. The last ten minutes further harm the movie with its out-of-place cliched horror and a non-ending that only makes you feel like you watched half a movie. Full of potential, but merely an immersive one-time watch that leaves you empty. Lily is trying to escape a world gone mad where men and women are literally at war with each other, brutally killing each other.

She runs over a badger, finds herself in a strange house occupied by a strange, bedridden, whimsical mother who talks to a rat and a radio, there's an oddly quiet son and daughter, a talking unicorn, many naked children, and lots of sheep, chickens and insects. There's not much of a narrative, the rare dialogue is cryptic, poetic or nonsensical, and instead we get many bizarre and symbolic scenes of an invisible attacker, Lily drinking milk from a huge glass, panties that keep falling down, breast-feeding the old mother, crying flowers, decapitation of an eagle, etc.

This movie can be interpreted as an indecipherable dream, an Alice in Wonderland type of story, or perhaps yet another surreal female coming-of-age story with Freudian imagery. For example, the gender war obviously represents scary behaviour of adults, the unicorn is her romantic fantasy which she chases at first and then nurses, the man is lust and sex, and the old mother is a complex and confusing adult version of herself. But many details don't fit in with this theory, especially all of the nonsensical conversations with the mother.

In addition, it's too bizarre to be a fairy-tale or story, and just a bit too intent and consistent to be a dream. I think it's simply elements from Malle's dreams forced into an attempted fantasy narrative in an experiment which even he doesn't understand. This is one of those movies that intensely intrigues with its surreal mysteries for its full running time, but then leaves you feeling empty. It's a really bad one on many levels, but strangely watchable with camp value.

Think young Russ Meyer drops acid and makes a movie on a pocket-change budget with some friends and neighbours. It's about a 'crew' of insane and violent girls the narrator explains what a crew means , that go on a violence and revenge spree to teach misbehaving men a lesson. The narrator, a law-enforcement dude, explains to us their behaviour and actions like something out of a 60s educational 'scare' movie.

The girls are introduced by their kinks, one of them deeply into Christian philosophy and bloody self-flagellation, they wander here and there, attacking random people in the street and homes.

There are smatterings of gore and nudity, but at the level of an Andy Milligan flick. Someone's dining room serves as a 'bar' where guys have an endless improvised conversation, a band plays music while the camera goes psychedelic, a guy orders a bodyguard over the phone and says that he doesn't mind if the bodyguard wears shorts, there's a ninja academy and 'ninja roulette', the last 20 minutes goes all out into confusing psychedelia as if the director was taking more and more drugs, and it ends with some nasty drill torture and a feminist moral.

Don't look at me; I just describe 'em the way I see 'em. With Borgman, he dives into Teorema territory with full surrealism and symbolism, without losing his dark and bizarre humor. If one watches this movie as a 'home invasion' by a disruptive evil human being, nothing will make sense, neither their motivations nor behaviour.

But if the invaders are taken as a symbol of the inner discontent and potential evil in human beings within our modern world, then it works as a disquieting movie, made even more off-kilter by the humor within the darkness. Religion in the form of a priest and his followers know exactly where the evil fallen angels are hiding underground, and they drive them away temporarily, only to let them wander into the home of a modern affluent family where underlying discontent and boredom poise ready to disrupt their lives.

The devilish fallen angels use everything they have against them, even using cell-phones to co-ordinate their plots. Inspired by the classic painting, Borgman sits on the wife's chest, causing her fears and nightmares. The wife develops an emotional dependency on the fallen angels her own dark side. There is disruptive seduction that preys on wandering hearts, which amusingly disconnects once the seduction has been successful, leaving confusion and anger in its wake.

Borgman assumes the role of their gardener and takes it very seriously as they do their own roles, disrupting from within. There is lots of death via poison, the bodies hidden with surreal methods. There are hounds of hell, marks of the devil, and a surreal play that demonstrates how all is smoke and mirrors. The location, costumes, acting, and makeup are all stunning, making this a must see once, it's just a pity the movie is impenetrably enigmatic and unapproachable in its symbolism.

A flautist and an astronomer are both struck by something otherworldly, leaving their lives behind to meditate and stay in a remote exotic location in Turkey full of caves and strange pools, and ultimately to face their pasts and a Master Musician.

There are many strange visions that include a skull eclipsing the moon, stoning of a woman with flowers, a Djinn haunting a man in his sleep in the form of a mosquito, and more.

There's a strong primal performance by a deformed actor who lives in the caves, a demonic naked and burnt being that can shoot fire out of his eyes, a flute duel, the giving birth of a big moth larva, and other unforgettable images. But there's not much beyond the images and atmosphere. The actual story is cliched and uninteresting, about a dystopian planet where everyone is repressed by strange rules and is born with a permanent mask, and punishments consist of attaching a permanent box to your head.

The visuals and aesthetic sense, however, are somewhere between Maddin and Forbidden Zone, complete with several psychedelic dance-numbers, some of them to the tune of generic prog-rock sounds. Frequent digressions and confusing scenes will have you scratching your head as you try to figure out what is happening, and some sequences are downright surreal, especially the birthing scenes involving strange machines that create mask-wearing babies to an audience of mask-wearing worshippers.

While the visuals make this one vaguely worth watching if you can take the overall boredom, the voice-overs, however, are terrible so bad its good? The movie takes place mostly in a dwelling made of clay that houses an extended family. Although it sometimes brings to mind Parajanov with its earthy, surreal mannerisms and otherworldly portrayal of traditions, the movie has its own unique language.

The acting is very idiosyncratic, with constant fear and simple-mindedness over-acted with twitching lips, heavy gasps, and emotions unhinged. The patriarch of the family is dying, a pigeon appears to take his soul, and he must pass on his name to one of three newborns but doesn't.

The children grow up nameless, each attempting to find meaning in their respective approaches of submissiveness, love or abusive power.

Religion, ritual and obscure family tradition fill their lives, and every time somebody questions with a 'what? In the meantime, the fathers go to war with Israel and come back covered in mud, with ideas on progress, unity, broad-mindedness and feminism. A challenging, intriguing watch that forces active understanding through abstruse mannerisms. As with Iron, children playing innocently encounter their ancestors in the form of a patient old man who fixes machines, and who is in touch with both technology and nature.

He 'listens' to rocks and creates machines according to the rocks' wishes. Except there is an enigmatic mobile box that seems to have a life of its own, and the man patiently waits to figure out what it wants.

But his generation is passing, and the box seems linked to the old man and his ways. A surprise development after he passes leads to new hope in progress and the next generation that instinctively knows what to do with the 'box', albeit which still seems to have a life of its own.

This unique Norwegian film shows man born from the Earth in a huge vagina, programmed by monks, and sent in business suits with blank papers to kiss statues and finally end up crawling through the earth's anus. Outlaws become flesh-eating zombie-like creatures and are hunted with brutality by the military.

This leads to many entertaining over-the-top splatter scenes with bodies being sliced or blown up in various ways. If this isn't enough we get to see a Nazi-like woman who stabs her victims while raping them, and a man getting his anus kicked in so hard he has to plug it with a bottle of beer.

Now he's putting his finger in something. The narration moved to Baughan's own experience of getting stroked. Her voice dropped to a whisper: If I do this, will I end up a sex addict and homeless on the street?

And if I do this, I'm pretty sure it doesn't exist, but I'm gonna go to hell. Listen to how Victorian you sound. Everything happening is perfectly OK. And now that another presenter had briefed us, like a vadge sommelier, on the "reverent, light sensation" from the clitoral ridge, versus the "rich, deep earthy sensation" down at the base—-it was showtime.

Daedone told us about her vision of an "OM-based world," whose denizens would be "there to welcome those whose minds had been hijacked by the idea that appropriateness is somehow better than honest or the fallacy that it's ever better to pretend to be something than to actually be who you are.

Off with the underwear, on with the apron. I did scales for years, Ken did scales for years. This is the equivalent to a symphony, so you're not allowed to compare yourself, just enjoy.

God only knows what view the folks in the balcony had. I can stroke firm or deep, she'll go with me. Hendrix was really bending it now.

Daedone's face contorted like a Kabuki mask and her hips bucked against the massage table as she strummed Dawson. At times, Daedone lowered her head toward her crotch, as if hearing some mystical hum. It was hard to tell if she was getting off on the audience watching her perform, or whether the whole thing had looped all the way back around to a complete lack of self-consciousness.

Soon, the 15 minutes were up. It's my favorite part, where I can feel the heartbeat in my thumb. Then it was time for "sharing frames," where onlookers describe a sensation they felt during a particular moment in the OM.

Men and women lined up at the microphone, letting out their inner New Age poets as Daedone murmured approval:. And there was a little soft arrow that stopped my breath. Had they really felt any of those things? The most I felt was relief it was over. As I waited in line afterward to introduce myself to Daedone, I caught a glimpse of Dawson, so blissed out and languid-eyed, she looked ready to melt right off her chair. The average time between first hearing about OM and actually trying it, Daedone would tell me later, is two years.

For me, it was six months. The next day, I'd be taking my red wristband into the basement of the Regency, and it would be happening to me. Then it would happen three more times.

Orgasms are good for you. No one's arguing against that. The message of OMX, though, went considerably beyond it. On Saturday, we heard from Dr. Pooja Lakshmin, a Stanford-trained psychiatrist who does orgasm research at the Rutgers neuroscience lab, and who is OneTaste's director of science and research. She took the stage in a form-fitting black dress, her nails done in hot pink—a James Bond casting director's vision of a neuroscientist—while Jeremiah crooned "Put it down on me, put it down me" over the speakers.

Partner-induced clitoral stimulation, Lakshmin said, has a rare ability to stimulate the limbic system—that level between the neocortex and the reptilian brain, which she said goes ignored by psychiatrists. The only things that can match it, for release of oxytocin, are childbirth or breastfeeding. It showed areas of the brain firing in bright traffic light reds and yellows. The notable thing about the lab is that it's run by Dr.

I wrote Komisaruk, to ask if his opinion had changed. I think to the extent that OM can increase those participating individuals' awareness of their bodily sensations, it can be a physiologically healthful practice. However, I do not know whether the strictly prescribed, highly structured OM stimulation protocols are the optimal means of achieving any specific healthful objectives, as I am not aware of controlled studies comparing alternative relevant orgasm procedures.

Lakshmin told us that before she joined OneTaste, when she worked as a psychiatrist, "I would just write lots of medications. I was kind of a drug dealer. They were fancy, they had husbands, they were rich, they had fancy houses. The OM experience is nothing if not attentive. In the initial orientation, Dawson and Blackman had explained the importance of "safeporting," where the stroker tells the woman exactly what he is about to do before he does it: I'm going to give you some grounding pressure now.

Safeporting, Dawson said, accesses "what we call the vigilance center of the mind, which is quite a bit larger in a woman's mind than in a man's brain. A finger instead of a tongue; the thumb placed on the outside, providing a "symbolic connection" to intercourse while making it difficult for the stroker to feel involuntary contractions, forcing him to pay attention. Like, why in the hell do you walk into a zendo with your left foot?

But you know what? You do it and you discover, something new opens. The Group OM sessions—there were eight of them on the schedule—were held in the venue's lower level, "perfect for corporate receptions, banquets, product launches, and tabletop trade shows," according to the Regency's website.

Before each one, the rotunda was crowded with people looking for their intended partners, or trying to find one. Friday night, after the demo, Van Vleck had introduced me to a startup cofounder, preppy and chestnut-haired, who said he'd learned about OneTaste at a tech event.

He looked like he'd stepped out of an admissions catalog. He asked if I wanted to OM, and I'd said yes. But he was almost too good-looking. This was too wackadoo; I wanted someone wackadoo to do it with. I was relieved when our schedules didn't match. Once I watched a spiky-haired older woman haplessly pleading with a jittery-looking guy, who read as gay to me, to tell her whether he wanted to OM.

Shortly before one of the Saturday sessions was about to start, I met Ryan the acupuncturist. He was tall and blonde, with hipsterish glasses, and built like a defensive tackle.

He wore a green wristband. I made like Molly Bloom. I entered the doorway. Some OMers had chosen to personalize with a colorful scarf or blanket. The giant room was divided into two parts.

I was assigned a spot in very last row of the smaller part, which, I hoped, would minimize the number of people who would see me doing this thing. Holy fucking shit, I need to shut down all the Wifi in my hometown because I am about to do this unspeakable thing. All around me were number of unexpected couplings: The grounding pressure helped. Everyone was told to begin at the same time. OneTaste instructors walked around the nests offering adjustments like it was a yoga class.

Afterward, I wandered around the Regency from panel to panel, delightfully faded, with an occasional tingling sensation in the back of my legs. Is this what Trudy and Sting feel like all the time? I just knew I wanted to try it again. And so I did, an hour later with the cognitive scientist. During one session, a woman wailed through the entire 15 minutes.

Happy sobs, or cathartic ones, I think. At registration, everyone had been given a red card to hold up if they ever felt uncomfortable. I never saw anyone use it. After the 15 minutes were up, the cognitive scientist told me the group OM topped that time he'd asked a cabbie in Tahoe to drive him somewhere weird and ended up at the Bunny Ranch while Marilyn Manson was visiting. Speaker after speaker, through the weekend, traced a path from despair to enlightenment, guided by the power of orgasm.

The energetic and self-assured Van Vleck talked about how she had formed an elaborate plan to commit suicide before discovering OneTaste. Lakshmin recounted a failed marriage to husband who'd looked like J. Crew male model, and her subsequent self-discovery. At one point on Saturday afternoon, though, the immersive optimistic mood took an unwelcome turn. The speaker was Robbie Richman, the former Zappos culture strategist. Tony Robbins is among his other clients, so I expected light-hearted platitudes.

The organizers played "Blurred Lines" for his intro, and he sang along, rigidly rolling his head: He followed up by phoning one of the OneTaste coaches. The coach told him, he said, "We gotta get your beast out. We gotta get the beast out, and in order to do that we gotta turn up the heat, we gotta heat up the system to get that beast out There wasn't a hesitation, I didn't even know what they were gonna charge. I just said, whatever she's gonna say, I'm gonna say yes.

He'd been in therapy for anxiety for years, he said. But then he recounted his OneTaste experience, which began with his arriving at Folsom and turning over his clothes, cell phone, and keys.

They sent him "to the edge" of his comfort zone, he said, sending him out to the Tenderloin to talk to homeless people. Then came the "beast exercise": It was, we went to a room, and I had this desire to just like rip her limbs off, and it was interesting because I felt it all, and she felt it all, just screaming. But the interesting thing was, I was barely touching her. The approval had drained out of the room.

You could hear the folding chairs creak. Sadism, it appears, was too off-brand for OMers. After all his self-discovery, Richman's stiff smile still looked like a mask that was about the crack. At the end of the conference, the white-haired yogi would tell me that when he witnessed these transformation stories, he could see both people at once: Richman concluded with a grand pronouncement: And as a person who studies culture like me, that's one of the highest echelons, because religion involves the full body, the full spirit experience And it's got its articles of faith, the principles of OM, that blow my mind.

Principles that apply to life, not just orgasmic meditation. And this lifestyle I was starting to see, it resembles a monastery Except rather than deprivation, it's to acceptance. It made me appreciate how charming and skillfull Daedone is. Daedone was unavailable for interviews till the very end of the conference, after they'd handed out glow bracelets and insisted that everyone "agree to come down pleasurably.

She stammered a bit, then opted for frankness: Because I wouldn't have any context to understand. Because there IS no context for connection in our culture. There's no context for any kind of female pleasure.

There's no kind of context for sexuality within a rigorous practice. Any time it's been explored, it's been sort of on the fringe. And that's one of the reasons why I absolutely wanted to bring it into the mainstream One of the reasons why I wanted to bring it into the mainstream was so that there were checks and balances.

Really, the model is Wikipedia, where everyone gets access and everyone puts their part in. Like the speakers she brought to the stage, Daedone has her own twisted road to enlightenment to share. When she was in her mids, her father, who had always been a distant figure in her life, went to prison for molesting two girls.

She said he never behaved inappropriately to her; they had long been estranged. At 27, she learned that he was dying of cancer and only had hours to live. Her desire now is for OneTaste "to go into the belly of the beast and begin to heal this trauma about misused sexuality. There's this beautiful idea in somebody white's book—the idea that your darkest spot is actually what becomes your purpose. The mainstream seemed, to many of the people I met at OMX, a bit out of reach.

They also had something in their past that they were trying to work through, or some unnameable need. Jeremy, a skinny twentysomething from Austin, told me during one dinner break that after his first OneTaste experience, "this complete reckless behavior kicked in all of a sudden. He weighed maybe a buck twenty.

Did it feel like the company was a front encouraging some kind of sexual deviance? The OM itself is kept intact If it's shady, it's as little shady as you're gonna get. Its only probably the right place to play if you're an adult. The normalizing effect of being surrounded by these people in a hyper-sexualized environment had warped my boundaries.

The final comedown, after I exited the Regency for the last time, was brutal. It felt like Suicide Tuesdays after a drug binge, and I hadn't had anything but that lone Klonopin all weekend. In my Airbnb, I turned off all the lights, huddled under a blanket, ordered chicken soup on Seamless, and trolled Netflix for a romcom. I was torn between a heady sense of liberation and an unease about why their spiel had worked on me—for the weekend, at least.

The book chronicles aspiring writer Nathaniel P. There were moments at OMX where I thought those female characters could use some time in a nest. On the other hand, the thought of describing "the container" at some book party in Brooklyn made me jump up and yank the blinds closed to block out the last gasp of the afternoon sun.

Next morning, I headed over to Folsom Street. But when I got there, there was a young woman crying outside, as her friend comforted her. One of the OMers I ran into as soon as I walked inside was on his way to Harbin, the nudist hot springs a couple hours north. The comedian had invited me to drop by , but as soon as I arrived, I was micromanaged by OneTaste employees.

Dawson and Ratnathicam flanked me on the couch. After a few minutes, Ryan, who had been volunteering at the conference, sat down at the far end.

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