Wicked World (1991)

I had the revelation that Things was only the torture test for this film, the gateway drug, the get past this excess to enter the doors of perception because Wicked World takes all the bonkers intensity of that film and somehow compounds it.

Grant Ekland (director Barry J. Gillis) is a cop who is haunted by the death of his girlfriend at the hands of a psychotic slasher named Harold (Eddie Platt). But now the system is letting Harold free — as he obsesses about how he hates his nurse, sliding boards, helicopters and life — and Ekland has the chance to end his life.

This is all cut around moments where Harold kills people and asks them if they want to live, including one girl who deadpans, “I’d like to become a famous actress! You can’t kill me! I’m too young to die! A model! An actress!”

Also: Gillis loves the female behind, I can tell you that much.

This is the kind of movie that’s inspired by a Black Sabbath song, that has a message at the beginning about boxer Arturo “Thunder” Gatti being drugged and murdered in Brazil. I have no idea what that has to do with anything that we see next, but when it comes to Gillis, I have learned to not ask.

Honestly, I’ve stared down some of the most aberrant movies the world has to offer and this one gave me reason to doubt my sanity. It’s the kind of thing I hunt for, a movie that ends with a long rant about how we need microchips to control our impulses if we want to survive, as well as a great soundtrack by Marshall Law and some of the most jarring editing I’ve ever seen.

Toronto used to seem so polite. I didn’t realize it had this movie in its orbit.

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