I’m just going to go ahead and throw something out there before I go any further: I fucking loved The Lords Of Salem. It’s a nightmarish, drug-addled Frankenstein’s monster of a film; a bastard lovechild that slides swiftly between the various subgenres of horror to create a surrealist experience utterly unlike anything else you’re going to see anytime soon. There’s a reason this film is playing almost nowhere, folks: it’s just too weird for the nervous, number-crunching studios of the modern era to do anything with but casually brush under the rug. And that’s a shame because it has everything.
It’s got gore, it’s got jump scares, it’s got atmospheric tension out the wazoo. It’s got unmitigated, unrelenting, nigh-on constant creepiness even in scenes when it probably shouldn’t. But most of all — it’s got about as much nightmare fodder as one could hope to process in ninety minutes. It creeps into your head, slowly at first, and then pulls the trigger, setting off a mindfuck of a movie that stimulates your every sense and throws you through more than one loop, forcing you to process things you’re juuuust shy of being able to understand and then using them against you to absolutely masterful effect. It’s got the look of Suspiria, the dread of Rosemary’s Baby, and the balls of The Devil’s Rejects and if you like things that are good then you should fucking see it.