Holy crap, this is a crazy piece of work. From what I can gather, it’s the “story” of Bobby (filmmaker Damon Packard), a pathetic slob who wanders the streets of Los Angeles trying to hawk cheap watches. Bobby can’t resist the urge to eat every disgusting thing within reach, and is prone to violent outbursts at random passers-by. The unkempt human garbage dump grows more enormous with each scene, bursting with sugary peeps and a consuming rage. While that seems to be the premise, it’s only the kernel of an all-out sensory assault, over-stuffed with bizarre tangents. A simple stroll transforms into an agoraphobic, paranoia-inducing nightmare. Packard’s film works as a filter for enhancing the utter insanity of our everyday reality. Even the hokey vintage “Movie of the Week” TV spots that pop up from time to time seem lunatic in context. Early on I doubted I could endure the whole chaotic mess, but found myself unable to turn away from the ever-growing train wreck. The spectacle starts out loud and out of control, making Bobby’s unexpected moments of calm comically climactic. But this is a movie beyond comedy, horror, or any rational logic. Like the hallucinogenic tape of Videodrome, Reflections of Evil transformed me in ways unknown to my conscious mind. I only hope I’m a stronger person for it.

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