May has trouble making friends. As a child it was because she has a lazy eye, and as an adult it's because she's a raving psychotic. Her mother once made her a doll named Suzy to help ease the pain, imparting with the gift the fateful advice, "If you can't find a friend, make one." And as an adorably deranged adult that's exactly what May does, stitching together her perfect friend from the perfect parts of the people she meets. Someone's neck, someone else's hands, another girl's ears (complete with hoop earrings), and even the fur of a cat for hair, all crudely made whole and named Amy. But there's just one problem with all of this (on top of the dozens of terrifyingly obvious problems, I mean): Amy doesn't have the parts required to see the best friend for whom she's been waiting her entire life. And that's where we join this delightful story already in progress - Lucky McKee's 2002 film May may be hurtling headlong to a certain macabre solution, but that doesn't make its final moments any less shocking, compulsively watchable, or emotionally dissonant. It's a slight and smirking little movie, but it sticks the landing as indelibly as any film from the naughts.