“The Greasy Strangler” Descends into Depravity with the Ease of a Cult Classic

The Greasy Strangler might be what it feels like to go mad.  The film is best described as a kind of John Waters fever dream (or maybe wet dream), that combines a penchant for bizarre sexuality with a tongue-in-cheek slasher film.  The acting is purposely hammy, and each kill more absurd than the last.  There are sequences that physically made me ill, and others that left me utterly befuddled. You can call it weird, disgusting, senseless, or even a fucking embarrassment of a film – but you can’t call it derivative or boring.

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