Let me put it out there right off the bat: Pin is one hell of a messed-up movie. This may be old news to long-time fans of Sandor Stern’s delightfully twisted Canadian horror, which, having struggled to find an audience following a commercially underwhelming release in the Spring of 1988, has become something of a cult favourite in the darker, more obscure corners of horrordom, a place where it resides, much like the film’s impenetrable antagonist, with a disquieting patience that will not be denied. But despite my peewee horror obsession peaking that very same year, I didn’t stumble upon Pin’s toe-curling charms until this past week, my only regret being that I failed to discover it sooner. Much sooner.