IT CAME FROM THE READER-SUGGESTED QUEUE: KUSO (2017)

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DIRECTED BY: Flying Lotus (credited as “Steve”)

FEATURING: Bethany Schmitt, Ouimi Zumi, Iesha Coston, Zack Fox,  Shane Carpenter, George Clinton, , voice of

PLOT: Survivors of an L.A. earthquake are stricken by disease and experience bizarre events.

Still from Kuso (2017)

COMMENTS: “Kuso,” the Blu-ray’s liner notes explain, is Japanese for “shit,” and you’ll see plenty of kuso in the course of Kuso. The film opens with a shot of maggots wriggling in trenches spelling out the film’s name, followed by a shot of a jerking seismograph. That intro segues into the opening sequence, in which two straight-laced white news anchors reporting on an earthquake are interrupted by a black man in putty-makeup who performs a free jazz scat explaining that “no one will save you” (among the more coherent lines). Then the kuso-show begins in earnest.

The brief earthquake mention is about all the context we get for the segments that follow, which are intercut together and interspersed with surreal (and usually obscene) collages and animations. There’s a couple with a pus-based love life, a flatulent bald kid in a dunce cap who finds a giant anus in the woods, a woman who loses her baby in a hole, a stoner girl who lives with two fuzzy Muppet creatures with TV monitor faces (and who has an exceptionally tasteless date rape/abortion subplot), and a man who undergoes scat therapy to cure himself of his fear of breasts. It’s not clear that all of these characters live in the same universe, except on one occasion when two of them meet and converse in a doctor’s waiting room.

None of the individual stories have much structure or go anywhere interesting, and none of the individuals have any characterization beyond their surface deformities. The lack of storyline and of characters of course contribute to Kuso‘s surprising dullness, but there’s also the lack of variation in the suffocating atmosphere: there’s no real humor, no joy, just endless darkness, cruelty, and a fetishistic focus on disease and bodily fluids. There’s no tonal contrast in the film, which is surprising for a director who’s a musician. It’s no symphony, but instead the cinematic equivalent of a 90-minute bass solo.

There is so little African-American surrealism out there that it’s a crime that this lump ends up as one of the more prominent examples of the form. The film seems pointless, never applying its vision to any end beyond the most juvenile variety of shock possible. It depicts a world of cruelty and disease unrelieved by any sort of thought or emotional investment. That is a sort of vision. But it has nothing to do with Flying Lotus’ anarchic but groovy and joyful music, which is experimental and challenging but harmonic—unlike Kuso, which is a harsh blast of formless noise. Because Lotus is so talented, I hope that he will aim higher in future filmic excursions, and that one day we’ll look back at this movie as a lonely misfire in his artistic catalog. But as it stands, Kuso does a great disservice to weird films. , and their brethren often shock, but you never doubt that deep down the fillmakers actually like people. Kuso has nothing good to say about our species, and actually appears to actively hate humanity—including, by extension, its audience.

WHAT THE CRITICS SAY:

“…inevitably whets the appetite of people who 50 years ago would have been lining up for their 10th viewing of ‘Mondo Cane’ — the sort of audiences forever on the lookout for something weirder or more extreme to make them go, ‘Ewwwww!’ Those viewers, as well as some among the habitually-stoned, will constitute the primary fans of this first feature… Everybody else is going to want to take a wide detour around this insufferable mishmash of interwoven segments — aimless in themselves, even more so as a whole — almost entirely concerned with bodily functions and bodily fluids.”–Variety (festival screening)

(This movie was nominated for review by “Dan M.”, who said “I’m assuming somebody else has already suggested it but there you go.” Suggest a weird movie of your own here.)

IT CAME FROM THE READER-SUGGESTED QUEUE: THE POSSESSED (1965)

La Donna del Lago

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DIRECTED BY: , Franco Rossellini

FEATURING: , Salvo Randone, , Pier Giovanni Anchisi, Virna Lisi

PLOT: A writer visits a childhood vacation spot at a lake and investigates the mystery of a missing acquaintance.

Still from The Possessed (1965)

COMMENTS: “It’s difficult to look inside oneself honestly, eh?”

Is this why award-winning author Bernard (Baldwin) claims to have never written anything autobiographical? His friends seem skeptical. He returns to a lakeside village to begin work on his next book, one inspired by memories of his childhood summers. But instead of writing, Bernard begins a routine of gossiping with the locals and spying on the staff of his hotel, “a hotel. . . filled with memories,” where “everything seem[s] normal on the surface.”

Moody black and white photography heightens the suggestion that everything isn’t quite normal in this unnamed locale. The cinematography emphasizes shadows; picturesque tree-lined lanes become sinister and otherworldly. The light dappling the lake’s surface could be the sun or the moon. The immersive sound design features a menacing whisper of wind which begins at Bernard’s first sight of the lake.

It’s the off-season, and characters furtively scurry about, either to escape from the cold or from prying eyes. The camera slides around corners, rendering the layout of both the town and the hotel endlessly labyrinthine. It sidles up to the cracks in doors, providing his point of view whenever Bernard’s voyeurism in the present day is intercut with his memories of Tilde, a beautiful blonde chamber maid (Lisi). As we search through the hotel and the village along with him, we quickly come to realize that, though he never fully admits it, Bernard is completely infatuated with the memory of Tilde.

After mistakenly following another woman, he discovers that Tilde died under mysterious circumstances since his last visit the year before. Determined to find out what happened to her—was it suicide or murder?—Bernard enlists the help of Francesco (Anchisi), a cynical local photographer. He willingly shares photographic evidence along with his own theories, but becomes increasingly reluctant to dig too deeply into the mystery. As Bernard becomes ever more obsessed with Tilde, he begins having nightmares about her case. Gradually he comes to suspect the hotel owner’s family must be somehow implicated.

When it was first released in 1965, La Donna del Lago (“The Lady of the Lake”) was poorly received. Italian critics lambasted its art-house style, including the use of washed out high-contrast in dreams and flashbacks, and creative editing that consistently blurs the lines between past and present. Cultural and historical baggage may also have sunk it. The screenplay is loosely based on a novel of the same name, which was in turn was inspired by a true crime1.

News of the actual case was still fresh in the popular consciousness while the film was being made, but if the filmmakers had hoped to cash in, they misread their audience. By the mid ’60s, color was in, and The Possessed seemed hopelessly pretentious and out of date. Instead of a typical crime thriller, it’s an Expressionist and hallucinatory fever-dream tour through the corridors of memory and imagination. Like Last Year at Marienbad, only with faster pacing and moments of ian suspense, The Possessed is both beautiful and occasionally confusing to watch, but it’s never boring.

Later rebranded as a giallo, The Possessed features some tropes of the genre, but even though pretty girls are dying mysterious deaths, there is no black-gloved killer (and the young women may not have been murdered at all). The writer protagonist is a familiar figure, the outsider trying to carry out his own investigation while becoming further mired in mystery. Renzo Rossellini’s orchestral score swells to ironic crescendos whenever Bernard fails to uncover any meaningful clues. There are plentiful red herrings: ambiguous photographic images, scraps of paper scrawled with obscure sentence fragments, women who wear each other’s coats so they become unrecognizable when bundled up in scarves against the wind. Ultimately The Possessed resists easy genre categorization, and for this reason its hybrid qualities make it weird-adjacent. It conjures a pervasive unsettling atmosphere, even though nothing overtly surreal appears on screen.

The fact that the screenplay was originally drafted by (Death Laid an Egg, If You Live, Shoot) may account for some of the film’s more unusual qualities, and makes The Possessed of interest to Questi completists. The original novel by Giovanni Comisso describes a writer’s journey to the scene of the crimes where he receives psychic impressions of the suspects, and Questi focuses heavily on this aspect. Cues such as the high contrast lighting and a repeated mournful bird cry provide hints for interpreting Bernard’s thoughts, imaginings, memories, and dreams, but in the end these images from inside his head all become tangled up together. Anyone familiar with the story’s background would of course already know who the killers will turn out to be, but Questi’s script isn’t a whodunit. He isn’t afraid to leave questions unanswered. As Bernard is subtly implicated as an unreliable narrator, a true crime story becomes a study of subjectivity and desire.

WHAT THE CRITICS SAY:

“The story’s a feverish dream-narrative in which Bernard is often literally fevered and dreaming… For its amplified layers of bafflement within its hallucinations, I prefer [the title] The Lady of the Lake to The Possessed, but this highly polished mirror of uncertainty and obsession is a lovely discovery under any identity.”–Michael Barrett, Pop Matters [Blu-ray]

1 The Alleghe killings were a series of murders that began in the 1930s in a small village in Northern Italy, and after being interrupted by WWII, they continued, still unsolved, into the 1950s. The case had been closed, then reopened, and the killers were only convicted in 1964.

SLAMDANCE FILM FESTIVAL: APOCRYPHA CANDIDATE: UNIVERSE 25 (2025)

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DIRECTED BY: Richard Melkonian

FEATURING: Giacomo Gex, Jacob Meadows

PLOT: Mott is directed to find a saint and a sacrificial lamb before the world ends this coming Sunday; Jacob, a postman who discovers Mott’s chronicle in the dead-letter office, is uncertain of what to make of the revelation.

Still from Universe 25 (2025)

WHY IT MIGHT MAKE THE APOCRYPHA: Melkonian draws deeply from the creative veins tapped by , , and —and so has devised an appropriately odd-and-arty outing.

COMMENTS: Richard Melkonian tells his story his way. If this means using an epistolary structure, with post office banter interrupting the flow, so be it. If this means slapping in a esque dream sequence, so be it. And if this means a West End-style musical duet between an angel and a tragic actress, so be it. While his inspirations are apparent throughout Universe 25, the film is his own, and features a singular sound and visual design. Presuming Melkonian—who serves as writer, director, and composer here—further develops his style, he has the advantage that his last name already reads as an adjective.

Beginning with some gritty back alleys in a gritty style, Universe 25 appears to concern a young postman by the name of Jacob. After a hard morning’s deliveries, his supervisor tasks him with sifting through some undeliverables. Find out if a letter or parcel might, perhaps, have its destination determined despite the “lost post” designation, and if not, affix the “Bump It” sticker after two weeks, and… bump it. Jacob is in no mood for this drudgery, and he slides the dead letters onto the floor. One oddly-addressed item catches his eye, however, and he finds himself reading the handwritten observations of a future super intelligence (a “Level Three” one), who has recently appeared in our time—emerging in a neon green glow upon a canal bridge—to await instructions from his creator. These turned out to be: find the saint; find the lamb; and compose a scroll to account for his efforts.

Mott, the super intelligence, manifests as a quietly genial human. He hears people’s prayers, and offers guidance to those who accept his divine origins. His powers work on a traumatized mother unable to acknowledge her son has gone (grown up or passed away in infancy, it is unclear). They do not work in the case of the man he identifies as the saint. This angel—or future intelligence—follows the saint, from his choreography studio, to the saint’s home in Romania, before returning home after a cryptic sequence involving Mott’s master, a lamb, and a dilapidated church.

This is all the stuff of high-religious meditation, depicted in unsightly earth form. Universe 25‘s sound alternately disorients and grounds the listener, while the nigh-ubiquitous shadows tend to black out the eyes of the performers. But we’re never locked into a trying, portentous ordeal: at the drop of a hat, we zip back to Jacob as he’s interrupted by co-workers. In the end, Mott’s fate is as unexplained as his actual origins: is he an angel? an intelligence? a wing-nut? Would all this be explained if Jacob just answered the desk phone? And while we’re asking questions, just who are this pair of Euro-hipsters who keep popping up?

Like Heaven, the future, and the lives of others: we will never know.

IT CAME FROM THE READER-SUGGESTED QUEUE: THEODORE REX (1995)

Beware

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DIRECTED BY: Jonathan Betuel

FEATURING: Whoopi Goldberg, Armin Mueller-Stahl, Juliet Landau, Bud Cort, Stephen McHattie, voice of George Newbern

PLOT: A cybernetically enhanced cop and a genetically restored dinosaur are paired up to solve a murder, but their investigation uncovers a larger plot to destroy humankind and bring about a new ice age.

Still from Theordore Rex (1995)

COMMENTS: Once upon a time, the high concept of a cop paired with another, weirder cop had been efficiently reduced to its purest form by including the signifier “Heat” in the title. There was a run of movies with titles like Red Heat (cop is paired with another cop who is from the Soviet Union), Dead Heat (cop is paired with another cop who is deceased), and very nearly Outer Heat (cop is paired with another cop who is an alien) until some studio executive realized that “Heat” wasn’t moving any tickets and switched the name to Alien Nation. That one word did all the work of summing up the premise while warning savvy filmgoers to avoid it at all cost. What I’m saying is, the producers of Theodore Rex had Jurassic Heat sitting there, ready to go, and they passed. Cowards. It wouldn’t have helped the movie, mind you. It just would have saved us all a lot of time.

A mostly forgotten bomb today, if Theodore Rex has any reputation at all, it’s either as the most expensive film of its time to be released direct-to-video or as the movie that Whoopi Goldberg only agreed to appear in after the producers sued her for trying to bail on the project. This is unfair, because Theodore Rex ought to be remembered as terrible on its own merits. It’s always a delight to find a diamond in the rough, a gem that the masses were too closed-minded to appreciate, but sometimes the masses are right, and a bad movie gets the public raspberry it deserves. 

The premise is so aggressively high concept that its overall illogic barely qualifies as an afterthought. You have to take a lot on faith from the outset: dinosaurs have been resurrected via hand-wavey DNA science as human-sized, English-speaking, long-armed, ghettoized cartoonish weirdos. (They are all animatronic caricatures, bumpkin cousins to the stars of the sitcom “Dinosaurs.”) The city is a Dick Tracy-style candy-colored series of backlot alleys. Whoopi Goldberg wears a skintight Lycra catsuit. If you can accept all of these ideas into your heart, then you’ve achieved the bare minimum of scrutability to get you into the plot. 

About that plot. It’s already a shopworn premise — initial crime leads to bigger conspiracy — that is drained of all suspense by the inexplicable decision to reveal the identity of the villain and his elaborate scheme in the opening narration. Aside from killing the little bit of mystery the film might have, it forces the story to become a character study of two completely empty shells: Goldberg’s cop, who is so devoid of personality that she plays both by-the-book and screw-the-rules without any seeming contradiction, and Teddy the dinosaur, who combines an endless display of neuroses with the vibe Continue reading IT CAME FROM THE READER-SUGGESTED QUEUE: THEODORE REX (1995)

SLAMDANCE FILM FESTIVAL: APOCRYPHA CANDIDATE: IN THE MOUTH (2025)

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Recommended

DIRECTED BY: Cory Santilli

FEATURING: Colin Burgess, Paul Michael

PLOT: Merl, a shut-in forced to take in a roommate to cover the rent, fears his giant head that slumbers on the front lawn.

 Still from In the Mouth (2025)

WHY IT MIGHT MAKE THE APOCRYPHA: The central premise, as explained above, is enough to make this an easy in; but Santilli’s one-set comedy also lays on plenty of quirky flourishes on top of this (massive) conceit.

COMMENTS: Merl lives in a world of his own. This world is made up of an undefined number of rooms, and a narrow hallway just long enough for him to scooter around through it—kind of. Making the corners is a little tough. Merl cannot leave his home, relying on a pulley system to retrieve his mail, and a dino-head bite grip to pull in the larger parcels which do not fit in his mailbox. His world ends at his front door. Beyond that door is our world, peopled by complicated types demanding rent, and inhabited by a head that’s roughly one story tall. It usually slumbers, but intermittently reminds Merl of its presence with booming yawns.

Writer/director Cory Santilli builds a narrative terrarium for his protagonist. Merl lives a highly unscheduled life: puttering around, arranging objets, and avoiding the invader, Margaret, who owns the property in question. Informed both by classic “creature features”—see credit’s title font and hear the title music—and noir—jazz music flairs and crisp, black and white cinematography pleases the eye—Santilli bends these livelier genres to his own quiet ends, and then upends the tone and action by introducing a criminal on the run. Interloper Larry is both a lens to view our subject anew and a means of creating empathy for the odd protagonist. He calls Merl “brother”, and insists that Merl do please call him “Lah”—because it’s easier. (Merl matter-of-factly inquires, “Is it?”)

Whether or not Merl’s rent gets paid is something of a moot point. Santilli takes his viewers on an up-close journey through the daily struggles and joys of an agoraphobic, choosing a delightfully apt metaphor to do so. It’s a funny film, too, with ’90s nostalgia (how many people have AskedJeeves™ how to dispose of a corpse?) and genre-twisting (this first time I’ve witnessed the Good Cop / Deaf Cop trope). Complications leave Merl with a bag of cash and a body to dispose of. This, despite all the “baby cameras” (not cameras for babies, mind, but cameras hidden in the creepy little baby-headed figurines Merl accumulates) secreted about the house. So, where else to put the corpse, but…

In The Mouth is a strange little character study kept under the watchful eye of an absurd premise: this head in the front lawn. Merl’s head. It is Merl’s keeper, and in true form of a domineering partner, his protector.  While Merl’s world appears to be large enough, we know—and he knows—that a paradigm shift must eventually come to a head.

In the Mouth debuted at Slamdance Film Festival in February 2025. We’ll keep you abreast of any distribution plans when we know more.

WHAT THE CRITICS SAY:

“…such a bold, weird, creative film…”–Shane Conto, Wasteland Reviews (festival screening)

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