Meet Matthew Cooke, a Stranger reader who has vowed to do everything The Stranger suggests for the entire month of February. Look for his reports daily on Slog. —Eds.

Contemplating an event like last night’s film festival at Re-bar, I am reminded again of the incredible breadth of human endeavor. Our endless curiosity drives us into the deepest, darkest corners of the psyche, and before you know it, Herve Villechaize is dry-humping Danny Elfman’s sister-in-law while a man in his underwear floats above them holding lit candles between his toes.

You know you’re in for some wild shit when Kelly O recommends it, and I wish I’d had the energy to be there for the whole thing; no doubt, I missed some seriously bizarre cinema. But it was a Monday night and after working all day, not to mention a long week of Stranger-recommended events, I didn’t have much left.

Nevertheless, I soldiered on downtown, ordered a drink, and watched the crazy happen for an hour or so. As fate would have it, I got there right at the beginning of the Villechaize opus, “Forbidden Zone,” and while the parade of lunacy unfolded onscreen, I had a recurring sense of déjà vu. I couldn’t tell if it was the guy in the giant frog costume or the horny Grandpa wearing a propeller beanie, but something was undeniably familiar.

Then Danny Elfman showed up (as the Devil, natch), and it was all clear to me. I was once a pretty big Elfman fan you see, and was aware of this movie even though I didn’t recognize it from the title. Now that I have finally seen it, I am fulfilled. Praise the Lord!

So yes, I approve of last night’s recommendation, despite the Monday night aspect. What the hell else is there to do on a Monday? I suppose The Stranger could recommend sitting on your ass and recovering from the Super Bowl, but wouldn’t you rather watch a boy who thinks he’s a chicken be decapitated, only to have his still-living head grow wings and offer additional plot commentary?

Of course you would.