As with Sahitani Dracula, this is less a movie in the conventional sense than it is a seemingly random assemblage of images that, were Singh to have the benefit of a pretentious film studies student to defend his art, could be justified as a true cinematic representation of the non-linear, nonsensical, and sometimes completely incomprehensible structure of a nightmare. Unfortunately for Singh, though, he has yet to assemble the cadre of defenders that rally to the defense of European directors like Jean Rollin, Jess Franco, and Lucio Fulci (each of whom I myself fervently defend). So it’s left to me, and perhaps you, to build the cult around Harinam Singh and get his movies identified not as cheap crap slapped together by a guy who didn’t really give a damn, but instead as brilliant, surrealist deconstructions of the subconscious state. Go forth now, and turn this man into a genius!