Visitor Q opens with the title card "Have you ever done it with your Dad?" Through a digital camcorder, we watch a hot young prostitute as she seduces her father into having sex with her. Her father is the one with the camera, filming the scene for a documentary on Japanese youths. Eventually it seems the father is letting himself be seduced, and she tells him the price. They have sex, the father is a preemie, and the disappointed daughter reacts by doubling the price. The father then realizes the camera has been on throughout.<br /><br />Then another title card appears: "Have you ever been hit on the head?" What follows is a single shot, the content of which one could reasonably guess based on the title of the scene.<br /><br />Among all the connecting vignettes, twisted and vomit-provoking as can be, there is one which very telling, but by this time, the viewer is so taken aback that finding significance in what one is seeing seems so bewildering. But the scene involves the father in one of his many frantic situations with his camera, running off to the camera about how he is supposed to feel. He doesn't know how. And neither do we.<br /><br />Miike is known for his go-for-broke gross-out violence, blood, guts and gore, not to mention all the perverse sexuality we tend to see in his countless films, and many of them he has churned out as simply as just a fun job. When asked why, for instance, in Dead or Alive, a character produces a bazooka from thin air, Miike laughed and said "Why shouldn't he have a bazooka? Don't all guys fantasize about bazookas?" With this direct-to-video shocker, the viewer realizes how aware he is of the effect of his content, and in so being, never indicates to us what we are supposed to feel. Most movies, most TV shows, certainly the news and most other forms of media output indicate through a basic film language what we are morally supposed to be feeling. Miike doesn't find this social phenomenon so easily done, and builds this $60,000 cult film around those aforementioned forms of media, exploiting the production's conception as an exercise in exploring the benefits of low-cost Digital Video to replicate documentary footage and home movies, which lathers the film with a sense of realism, which contrasts wildly with the freakishly bizarre scenes and pitch-black humor. He keeps this tense juxtaposition consistent and never allows us for a moment to sit back and relax, to shift into auto-pilot.<br /><br />As a result, watching Visitor Q becomes this grotesque experience throughout which we realize how unaccustomed we are to human perversions. Am I repulsed, exasperated, laughing, compassionate, overwrought and bewildered? I am never signaled. You're on your own. And consequently, I felt all of those things.