Shriek of the Mutilated, 1974, dir. Michael Findlay. Cinema of the Macabre at the Emagine Willow Creek, Monday, October 10.

My best friend, Mike, loves this movie, and it’s not hard to see why. And I love it, too, but only to see with him and only in theaters, where the reckless energy of astounded cinemagoers fills this balloon with a happy gas. That’s where I was the other night, at this gloomy cineplex that sits in a weird warren of mid-range apartments across from a strip mall with notoriously bad restaurants. But Shriek of the Mutilated! In a pristine 4K restoration! With money spent to secure the rights to Gershon Kingsley’s “Popcorn”! Cannibals, bizarre close-ups, a Yeti, the most depressing restaurant on earth, a party with a dedicated popcorn vendor, dancing to “Popcorn”, a woman with her throat slit (with a bread knife!) who drags a toaster across a room to electrocute her assailant (who’s drunk in a full bathtub), and music stolen from a variety of sources (including a lot of classical music that only makes this feel like there’s an urge towards pretention?), and that title! Shriek of the Mutilated! Don’t ever watch this movie alone because then it will look like shit and be utterly boring. Watch it with other Grindhouse Bums. It’s the only way.

Oh, Darcy Brown, the redheaded girl with the overbite who plays the doomed Lynn, I will love you forever.