Plot: A zoot-suited Christ lands in the desert and begins healing people, performing miracles, and prophesying. The constipated Seaweedhead Greaser, owner of the titular establishment, and his gang of oddballs do various things, few which make any sense.
This strange little movie has a language of its own. It's rebellious and quietly wild, weird and wacky, and almost completely pointless. You'll scratch your head until your skull bleeds, you'll laugh a bewildered guffaw, and you'll declare that you've just watched the greatest Western ever made and then immediately retract the statement, claim you never said that and that you indeed hate the movie, and get a few band-aids for that skull of yours. I was moved spiritually, nearly baptized myself in a kool-aid bath actually as the credits rolled, but it also made me want to wash my hands with another man's washcloth and drink a cup and a half of bleach afterwards. A unique and wonderful slab of absurdist funk here!