Exotica
The tension here in the way this uses the knowingly false constraints of hip post-Twin Peaks 90’s deadpan semi-surrealist arthouse drama (or, in this case, the knowingly false walls of a strip club) as a pressure cooker for authentic undiluted Toronto freak shit makes for one of the most potently fucked vibes I’ve ever seen. I think <PERSON> overplays his hand once or twice to the point that it starts to border on parody (parroty?), but it’s also probably the most a movie has legitimately upset me in years (nearly had me throwing up by the end), which counts for a lot! Gotta be the least erotic thriller of all time - ostensibly a movie about tax fraud! 306