May

Writer/Director: Lucky McKee | Released: 2002 | Rated: R

I first saw May shortly after it was released in 2002 and was immediately struck then (as I am again and again when rewatching it) by the intimacy of the film; a viewing element especially intriguing because the entire film is about the struggles of intimacy. It's these "struggles of intimacy" the timid and adorkable (can I say that?) May, a talented veterinarian assistant by day and exquisitely talented seamstress by night, experiences as she embarks on her first attempt in the dating field.

After growing up in an emotionally stifling household and with a superbly creepy doll as her only friend, May is now a young woman and a walking talking example of bumbling attempts at relationships. She is unintentionally hilarious and you’ll happily soak in the Schadenfreude fun. However, things begin to turn sour as the remaining semblance of her healthy intercommunication buttons begin to malfunction...

In conjunction with May’s badass designing skills, so is the film’s badass acting, writing, cinematography, score, and super smart development of the story’s explorations into the wonders of the heart and mind. In short, I simply cannot express in enough words or ways how much I love this film [blushes, fumbles, drops May fan letter into a puddle, pushes glasses back up], but I’m going to keep trying anyway [bites lip].

May is a wonderfully morbid comedy that sneaks into a classic horror spin of the serious, and an honest look into loneliness, frustration, and heartbreak. This film is dingy, clingy, shiny, grimy, sweet, sour, and basically has so many visual and emotional textures you just might need a great big hug or a long hot shower afterwards (or both).

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Bring on the Cringe Binge!

May is a stellar film and one sure to be enjoyed by horror fans who appreciate goretastic dark humor stitched together nicely with serious subject matter. I give a standing ovation and awkward, but excited wave to all who helped to create this wonderful work of art.

This film pairs with the smell of freshly cut fabric, stale cigarette smoke, a popular perfume or cologne from the ‘90s that you still love you but feel you can’t tell anyone about, a couple of brewskies, and your favorite dessert.

Check out the official trailer for May.

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Jolie lives in Seattle with her artist husband, two cats, and created her blog, Horror Habit, to keep her out of trouble (which has sorta worked). @HorrorHabitBlog