Alejandro Jodorowsky's cult classic still feels as batshit crazy as it did in 1989.
The plot is stuff of nightmares - a Mexican magician recalls his boyhood in the circus, which degenrates into an Oedipal story of amputee revenge.
The splatter is offset with a sustained psychological menace: elephant fumerals, Down's kids on coke, a chicken-killing Jesus and the most erotic knife-throwing sequences you will ever see.
Masterfully directed and relentlessly lurid, Santa Sangre somehow manages to make Jodorowsky's acid western El Topo look sane.
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