Dr. Thorn (Albert Eskinazi) isn’t your average medical professional. He’s a man who treats a turkey baster like a surgical instrument, and his patients like scraps for the bin. In a brisk yet grueling 57 minutes, Thorn balances a busy schedule performing cut-rate abortions, moonlighting as a serial killer to finish the job at his patients’ homes and ignoring his wife, Claire (Irmgard Millard), in favor of staring blankly at the wall or dreaming of ritualistically stabbing baby dolls.

If you’ve already left from that description, well, you aren’t reading this.

For the rest of us who have stuck around, welcome to the world of Nick Millard.

The doctor is in, and he brought a cleaver, a hammer and a knife. You will see what happens in grisly detail, and by that, I mean the effects of magic you may have come to expect from Millard.

Like a true SOV auteur, Millard doesn’t let a good asset go to waste. Much like the Criminally Insane/Crazy Fat Ethel naming shell game, Doctor Gore is a masterclass in recycling. It features the same droning, hypnotic soundtrack and even reuses the credit sequence from Crazy Fat Ethel, listing actors who aren’t even in the building. It’s not just a movie; it’s a lore-heavy puzzle for the depraved.

The plot thickens when Claire reveals she’s been funding and bedding a Polish poet. When she ends up pregnant and asks her husband to handle it, the movie shifts from a standard slasher into a domestic nightmare of epic, low-fi proportions.

Less than an hour of your life lived in endless drone and muddy VHS distortion. You should be so lucky.