“God, have mercy on those of us who don’t know how to chain the bloodthirsty beast that lives in our hearts.” Like a psychosexual nightmare in the mirrors of a fun house, Juan Bustillo Oro’s El hombre sin rostro (US: The Man Without a Face) is a dark, oppressive tale about a dejected police detective who’s unable to find a serial killer attacking women at night. Afflicted with nightmares in which the (literally) faceless killer leads him to expressionistic streetscapes and bodies of water teeming with symbolism, Juan Carlos Lozano (Arturo de Córdova) seeks the help of the precinct physician, Eugenio Britel (Miguel Ángel Ferriz), who begins treating him for mental illness (“Your salvation depends on your perseverance”). As we learn about Juan Carlos’ needy, manipulative mother, now deceased, the narrative becomes dreamier, the score more frenetic, Cordova’s facial expressions more aghast. Despite the soap-operatic acting so common in Mexican films and a fairly predictable ending, The Man Without a Face immerses the viewer in a surreal journey down a psychological well that wouldn’t be explored in Hollywood films for another decade.