Santa Sangre (1989)

Hoo boy this is a psychosexual–religious Gordian knot, a giallo-in-reverse (viola, maybe?) with a sparse script and a menagerie of intensely characterful vignettes. Trauma sets in like an indelible tattoo over the course of one nightmare day. A man is haunted by a theatre of spectres—clowns, dying and resurrected circus animals, murdered brides, mother and father who confuse love and possession, and most of all his own childhood self. A woman is raised to have less than nothing and drags herself out of the pit, chasing a whisper of happiness through a funhouse world. The surrealist dream–performance logic and practical effects are all insane in a fantastically understated way to the point that it's hard to tell what's diegetic or not, real or not until the world tectonically shifts and the truth slips between the cracks.