Dear Midnight Meat Train,

It was so great to see you on Wednesday night at the old, one-screen Clay Theatre in San Francisco. Pretty awesome that someone caught your pitiful theatrical release and decided to book you for a two-night run here. Actual people do things so much better than corporations sometimes.

Anyway, there's no easy way to say this: I love you. In fact, I think I might be in love with you. Deep inside I think you know the depth of my affection. But let me list just a few examples of your awesomeness.

I love how artfully, how meticulously, you were directed. You're freakin' beautiful, is what you are. What happened to the Ryuhei Kitamura who made the smug, ugly, useless Versus? I wasn't prepared for this evocative, moody plunge into bleakness. Every shot is a wonderfully unreal composition of light and shadow; every angle and camera move seems calculated to make you as unsettling as possible.

I love that you took the time to get the details right. The little things -- they're so difficult. The relationship between the main character and his girlfriend/fiance is believable and sweet; there are some genuinely lovely scenes in the first half, moments where you just pause to regard these people outside of the plot. And those photos that are supposed to make Leon a star in the New York art world? Those are actually some great freakin' photos. I bought it, y'know?