Little Murders (1971)

Whoever called this a comedy has a broader definition of the term than I do -- this is a screaming, pulsating urban nightmare of a film. It has some funny scenes (notably the dialogue where Elliot Gould reveals what he photographs), but it's the kind of film where you laugh so that you don't freak out. Reminded me a bit of Songs from the Second Floor in that both films are about society at the end of its tether, but where the former film was quiet, resigned and haunted, this thing is filled with bitterness and nihilistic rage. It occasionally gets too shrill for its own good (possibly by design), but in depicting a world where insanity is the only sane response, this jagged screed is both amusing and intensely disturbing.

Grade: B+