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Watching Mad God felt like being torn apart. I paused the movie a few minutes in to make sure all the curtains in the living room were closed, so as not to traumatize the neighbors’ kids. (The curtains were closed, but the sense of unease remained even after I checked.) The film’s textures—enamel, eyes, guts, clay—all made my stomach turn. I felt like I was looking through a window at something I shouldn’t. Half of my brain couldn’t let go of the unease. The other half was buzzing. I loved the experience. I kept leaning forward toward the screen. Mad God blows just about every other movie I’ve seen this year out of the water.