My ill-advised endeavor to watch the top 200 horror movies of all time, plus 100 additions, in order to determine a definitive (read: completely subjective) Top 100 continues.

In Teinosuke Kinugasa‘s silent masterpiece, a man takes a job as a custodian in an asylum in order to be close to his wife who’s been committed after attempting to kill herself and the couple’s child.

The film was first released in Japan in 1926 and proved an immediate success, grossing over $1000 a week during the course of its run, a staggering number considering a ticket cost a nickel. But after its initial run, it was believed to be lost for 45 years until in 1971 Kinugasa himself found the reel in a rice barrel in his storage cabin. This lone surviving copy was missing almost a third of the film, which I believe makes it safe to say that no living person has seen the full original.

A Page of Madness boasts one of most complex narratives I’ve seen from the silent era. Not only that, but Kinugasa was a member of Shinkankakuha, or the School of New Perceptions, an avant-garde group of Japanese expressionist filmmakers who eschewed the representational in favor of more experimental fare. This results in a dreamlike presentation of the story that flits seamlessly between reality and fantasy sequences. It is sometimes hard to tell the difference, but I assure you this is a feature not a bug. Especially when considering its ending, one of the finest stingers in horror history, one that, although sinister no matter how you look at it, requires you to know that that’s how a son-in-law would bow to his wife’s father.

It’s that kind of film.

All of this, along with the fact that the film, unlike most other silent films, does not feature intertitles—Kinugasa, et al opting instead for live benshi narration during showings—can make it a difficult watch for modern viewers. Keeping its Wikipedia page’s plot synopsis open on my phone while I watched largely solved this issue, and I would advise the same if you set out to view this incredible artifact.

In 2016 the film was re-released with music composed by the Alloy Orchestra. This is the version I watched, as it’s the most readily available.