May

May, socially isolated since childhood by a lazy eye and a strange mother, becomes fixated on individual parts of the people she meets: a boy's hands, a girl's neck. When each relationship fails, the logic follows.

Lucky McKee made a genuine character study first and a horror film second, and Angela Bettis's performance is the reason it works: May is sympathetic, awkward and lonely long past the point where the film turns, and you stay with her.

It is closer to a sad indie drama than a slasher for most of its length, which is why the last act lands so hard.

The doll her mother gave her, kept in a glass case and told it is her only friend, is the film's controlling image and its saddest one.

It has become a genuine cult film and Bettis's performance is why.