May arrives on Blu-ray as spine #32 in Lionsgate’s Vestron Video Collector’s Series, finally giving Lucky McKee’s deeply unsettling debut feature the deluxe treatment it deserves. This 2002 psychological horror gem has been lurking in the shadows of cult cinema for over two decades, collecting devoted admirers who recognize its unique blend of heartbreak and horror. With striking new cover art by Matt Ryan Tobin and an impressive collection of special features, this release transforms May from a forgotten festival darling into an essential piece of modern horror history.

What makes May so compelling isn’t just its eventual descent into Grand Guignol theatrics, but how McKee builds genuine sympathy for his troubled protagonist before pulling the rug out from under us. Angela Bettis delivers a powerhouse performance as the titular character, a socially awkward veterinary assistant whose childhood trauma and adult isolation create a perfect storm of psychological instability. It’s the kind of fearless, committed performance that transforms what could have been a simple slasher into something far more complex and disturbing.

Unlike the cookie-cutter horror films flooding multiplexes in 2002, May operates as both character study and cautionary tale about the devastating effects of chronic loneliness. McKee understands that the most effective horror comes from recognizable human emotions pushed to their breaking point, and he crafts a narrative that makes us complicit in May’s journey toward darkness.

When Perfect People Have Imperfect Parts

The setup for May feels almost deceptively simple on the surface. May Dove Canady, born with a lazy eye that required childhood patches and constant ridicule, has grown into a young woman whose only meaningful relationship remains with Suzie, a glass-encased doll her mother crafted years earlier. Working as a veterinary assistant, May observes the world around her with the detached fascination of someone who has never quite figured out how to belong.

Everything changes when she becomes fixated on Adam Stubbs (Jeremy Sisto), a mechanic with beautiful hands who shares her appreciation for horror films. Their initial courtship unfolds with awkward charm, but McKee never lets us forget that May’s idea of romance operates by different rules than most people. When Adam tells her “I like weird,” he has no idea what he’s unleashing.

The film’s first half functions as a pitch-black romantic comedy, complete with meet-cute moments and relationship complications. Bettis plays these scenes with such genuine vulnerability that we find ourselves rooting for May despite the warning signs piling up around her. Her interactions with Anna Faris’s sexually adventurous coworker Polly provide another avenue for connection, but McKee shows us how May’s desperate need for approval makes her vulnerable to exploitation rather than genuine intimacy.

The genius of May lies in how it gradually reveals the depth of our protagonist’s psychological damage without ever making her a mere victim or monster. She’s both, and neither, simultaneously. McKee’s script avoids the lazy shorthand of trauma-as-explanation that plagues so many psychological thrillers, instead showing us how isolation can warp someone’s understanding of human connection to the point where violence becomes their only remaining form of intimacy.

Beauty in the Breakdown

Lucky McKee’s directorial debut demonstrates remarkable assurance for a filmmaker working with a minuscule budget and unknown cast. The visual design of May emphasizes the character’s outsider status through carefully composed shots that isolate her within the frame, while the production design creates a world that feels simultaneously grounded and slightly off-kilter.

Cinematographer Steve Yedlin, who would later work with Rian Johnson on projects like The Last Jedi, brings a distinctive visual style that emphasizes May’s perspective. The camera often lingers on details that fascinate our protagonist: hands, necks, legs, and other body parts that she finds beautiful in isolation. This fetishistic attention to human anatomy serves multiple purposes, establishing May’s aesthetic philosophy while foreshadowing the film’s eventual destination.

The supporting cast provides excellent counterpoints to Bettis’s central performance. Jeremy Sisto makes Adam genuinely likeable despite his eventual rejection of May, avoiding the trap of making him a simple villain. When he tells May that her weirdness has crossed the line from charming to disturbing, we understand his perspective even as we sympathize with her pain. Anna Faris delivers one of her most nuanced performances as Polly, a character who could have been a simple predator but instead becomes another lost soul looking for connection.

James Duval appears as Blank, a punk rock scenester whose very name suggests his function as a walking canvas for May’s increasingly twisted artistry. The film’s third act introduces a group of blind children who inadvertently trigger May’s final psychological break, a scene that demonstrates McKee’s ability to find horror in unexpected places without exploiting disability for cheap scares.

The Art of Perfect Imperfection

What separates May from typical slashers isn’t just its psychological complexity, but how McKee handles the inevitable violence. Rather than dwelling on gore for its own sake, the film’s brutal final act serves as a logical extension of May’s character development. Her decision to create the “perfect friend” by combining the best parts of different people represents both her ultimate artistic achievement and final psychological break.

The film’s climax achieves a delicate balance between horror and pathos that few genre films attempt, let alone achieve. Bettis’s performance during these sequences shows remarkable range, transforming from shy observer to confident predator to heartbroken artist. The famous final shot, which could have been absurd in less capable hands, instead provides a moment of genuine emotional impact that lingers long after the credits roll.

McKee’s script draws obvious inspiration from Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein, but updates the themes for an era of social media isolation and urban alienation. May’s monstrous creation reflects her desperate need for understanding, making her both Victor Frankenstein and his creature. The film suggests that monsters aren’t born but created through years of rejection and misunderstanding, a theme that feels even more relevant in our current era of digital loneliness.

The practical effects work, handled on a shoestring budget, emphasizes the handmade quality of May’s final project. Rather than relying on slick digital effects, the film’s DIY aesthetic reinforces the character’s artistic vision while maintaining the unsettling intimacy that defines the entire production.

Technical Presentation: Vestron’s Loving Restoration

Lionsgate’s Vestron Video treatment of May represents a significant upgrade over previous home video incarnations. The 1080p AVC transfer, presented in the film’s original 1.85:1 aspect ratio, finally allows viewers to appreciate Steve Yedlin’s cinematography in proper detail.

The color palette emphasizes earth tones and muted colors throughout most of the film, reflecting May’s subdued emotional state before her final transformation. Detail levels remain consistently strong, capturing both the intimate character moments and the film’s more visceral sequences with equal clarity. Skin tones appear natural throughout, while black levels provide solid depth without crushing shadow detail.

Film grain has been preserved naturally, giving the transfer an appropriately filmic texture that honors the low-budget production’s aesthetic. The image shows no signs of digital manipulation or artificial enhancement, presenting May as close to its original theatrical appearance as possible. Minor print damage appears occasionally but never distractingly, and the overall presentation demonstrates clear respect for the source material.

The DTS-HD Master Audio 5.1 track serves the film’s dialogue-driven narrative admirably. While May isn’t designed as an effects showcase, the track handles the film’s more intense sequences effectively without overwhelming the subtle character work. Jammes Luckett’s haunting score receives proper treatment, spreading across the front channels with occasional rear channel support during key moments.

Dialogue reproduction remains clear throughout, crucial for a film that depends heavily on character interaction and internal monologue. The track maintains proper dynamics between quiet character moments and the film’s more explosive sequences, never requiring volume adjustments to follow the story.

Special Features: A Comprehensive Look Behind the Madness

Vestron Video’s special features package for May represents one of their most comprehensive efforts, providing multiple perspectives on the film’s creation and lasting impact. The collection includes three full-length audio commentaries, eight new interviews, and archival materials that illuminate every aspect of the production.

Audio Commentary with Film Critic Alexandra Heller-Nicholas provides an academic perspective on the film’s themes and cultural significance. Heller-Nicholas discusses May’s place within feminist horror cinema and its relationship to broader discussions of female agency in genre films. Her commentary offers valuable context for viewers interested in the film’s theoretical underpinnings without becoming overly academic.

Audio Commentary with Writer-Director Lucky McKee, Cinematographer Steve Yedlin, Editor Chris Sivertson, and Actors Angela Bettis, Nichole Hiltz, and Bret Roberts serves as the disc’s primary making-of track. The participants maintain excellent chemistry throughout, sharing production anecdotes while providing technical details about the film’s creation. McKee discusses his inspiration for the story, while Bettis offers insights into her character preparation and the challenges of maintaining sympathy for such a complex role.

Audio Commentary with Lucky McKee, Editor Rian Johnson, Composer Jammes Luckett, Production Designer Leslie Keel, and Craft Services guy Benji takes a more technical approach, focusing on the practical aspects of low-budget filmmaking. Johnson, who edited the film before becoming a prominent director himself, provides particularly valuable insights into the editing process and how the film’s structure serves its psychological themes.

“The Toymaker” (15 minutes) features an extensive interview with Lucky McKee discussing the film’s origins and his approach to psychological horror. McKee reveals how personal experiences with social isolation influenced the script, while also discussing the challenges of directing his first feature with limited resources.

“Perfect Hands” (12 minutes) presents Jeremy Sisto discussing his approach to playing Adam and the film’s exploration of romantic relationships. Sisto provides thoughtful analysis of his character’s arc and how the film subverts typical horror movie gender dynamics.

“Blankety Blank” (8 minutes) features James Duval reflecting on his role as Blank and the punk rock aesthetic that influenced his character design. The interview includes discussion of the film’s music and how it reinforces the themes of outsider culture.

“How to Execute a Murder” (14 minutes) offers Steve Yedlin’s technical perspective on the film’s cinematography and visual design. Yedlin discusses specific camera techniques used to represent May’s psychological state, providing valuable insight into the film’s visual language.

“Peeling Back the Layers” (16 minutes) presents Rian Johnson discussing his editing work on the film and how post-production shaped the final narrative. Johnson explains specific editing choices that enhance the film’s psychological impact, making this interview essential viewing for aspiring filmmakers.

“Jack and Jill” (11 minutes) features Chris Sivertson discussing his collaboration with McKee and the challenges of editing a psychological horror film. Sivertson provides technical details about the editing process while also discussing the film’s themes.

“In the Cut” (13 minutes) concludes the interview collection with Editor Kevin Ford discussing his contributions to the film’s final form. Ford explains how editorial decisions supported the film’s character development and thematic concerns.

The package also includes the original theatrical trailer, TV spots, and a comprehensive still gallery featuring production photos and behind-the-scenes images. The special features demonstrate clear respect for the film and its creators, providing both entertaining anecdotes and valuable technical information.

A Disturbing Masterpiece Gets Its Due

May stands as one of the most effective psychological horror films of the early 2000s, a period when the genre was largely dominated by supernatural thrillers and torture porn. Lucky McKee’s debut feature demonstrates that the most effective horror often comes from recognizable human emotions pushed to their breaking point, and Angela Bettis delivers a performance that ranks among the best in genre cinema.

The Vestron Video Collector’s Series treatment provides May with the deluxe presentation it has long deserved. The technical presentation accurately reproduces the film’s low-budget aesthetic while the comprehensive special features offer multiple perspectives on its creation and significance. This release transforms a cult curiosity into an essential piece of modern horror cinema.

What makes May so enduringly powerful is its refusal to provide easy answers or comfortable conclusions. McKee doesn’t excuse his protagonist’s actions, but he helps us understand how someone could reach such desperate measures. The film serves as both entertainment and warning, showing how social isolation and chronic rejection can twist human needs into monstrous expressions.

For horror fans tired of formulaic scares and predictable plotting, May offers something genuinely unsettling: a film that makes us complicit in its protagonist’s journey toward darkness. The Vestron Video release ensures that new audiences can discover this haunting character study in optimal conditions, while longtime fans finally have a presentation worthy of their devotion.

In an era when horror often relies on volume over nuance, May reminds us that the most effective scares come from understanding our monsters rather than simply fearing them. Sometimes the most terrifying realization is recognizing ourselves in the very people we should fear most.

May is available on Blu-ray from Lionsgate’s Vestron Video Collector’s Series. You can order it from Lionsgate Limited.

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External Resources:

• May on IMDb
• Lucky McKee’s Official Website
• Vestron Video Collector’s Series Information