In 1989 Canadian DIY Director, Barry J. Gillis, blessed the world with his demonic horror probably-not-comedy, Things. Wicked World is Gillis’ serial killer manifesto followup; Just as Canadian, just as confounding.
What indeed is happening here? Well. As far as we can tell, there’s a serial killer (Gordon probably?). He looks and sounds like a muppet version of Werner Herzog and spends his time in an outdoor asylum in which the nurse basically rolls him around playground equipment, handcuffing him to different things.
Wicked World wastes no time in scurrying up its own convoluted ass, as there is an editor’s nightmare onslaught of flashbacks within flashbacks and asides within asides. The film has more chops in it than Gordon’s victims! Sorry for the hack comedy!
The killer stalks and exterminates promiscuous people AFTER watching them bang it out. He hunts racist cops, although he also calls his Hispanic nurse Nurse Latino. So even though he rails against humanity and life in general, he also recognizes he’s a bit of a turd roach, too. So that’s neat.
What’s most remarkable aside from the amphetamine-friendly amount of overediting is Gillis’ direction of his actors. In his google search history, we might find, “Peopling: How To?” Every character’s movements and lines are so consistently unnatural, it’s like it was directed by someone playing the Sims or a giant marionette puppeteer playing pretend with a pile of corpses. The offset feeling of unease bleeds into the musical tracks as well, which HAD to have been made specifically for the film, because the lyrics mean fuck-all.
If it’s a stylistic choice, there’s something brilliant in his alien, insect-ly portrayal of our species. More likely though, judging from the sheer up-its-ass-ness, it’s just phenomenally bad. If there’s an in between, Wicked World nails it.