It's at least somewhat obvious where this is heading from the first scene alone, but what makes it memorable is how that's kind of the point, with Sherman, Shusett, and O'Bannon luring you into thinking you're smarter than the movie before pulling the rug out in a series of escalating twists with some gross implications. I hate putting spoiler tags on these, so I'll say not more.

I don't know if Gary Sherman is someone who is really known for…

New York as a purgatory, a personal hell of spiked heels, black-lace bodysuits, leering men, and murder by ashtray. Lost Highway as the roughie it wanted to be, as Gigi Darlene is pushed into never-ending cycles of violence and predation after murdering her rapist, shedding her name and suburban housewife identity, and hitting the city.

Two (?) apartments are made to look like six, Central Park becomes Boston, twins Darlene and Dawn Bennett play unrelated lesbian friends, C. Davis Smith's…

A red room. Music. A magazine. A half-smoked yellow Gitane in a blue ashtray. A killer with a limp.

The Psychic feels like Fulci and Sacchetti’s response to Deep Red, a late-cycle giallo that repurposes a lot of the ideas from Argento’s film, and, in true giallo fashion, looks at them in a different light. There’s a secret hiding in the walls of an old house, important mirrors and paintings, and a piece of music that all hold clues for…