Baby Doll (1956), Elia Kazan.

"I don't eat a nut that's been cracked by a man's mouth."

Technically, this is a "he walked out of the room" movie, not a "movie he made me turn off."  It's just a shade over the top, ridiculous, out there, nose-wrinkling.  I guess there's a reason the Catholic Church had it banned.  I reveled in it.  It's got genuinely good acting, a bafflingly grotesque depiction of southerners and the awesomeness of awesomeness: Eli Wallach (El Cattivo!) cast as a seductive Sicilian in trimly belted trousers, holding a fly-whip and breathing all close and heavy like on our titular Baby Doll (played by Carroll Baker), the 19-year old icy virgin wife of Karl Malden.  

Baby Doll is very stagey and, in parts, shouty.  I do sometimes find that a photographed play can sometimes be a mis-use of film - it's by no means an interpretation of a written work for film, it's simply capturing a stage performance.  But there is something to savour there, and it's the acting style and the general approach towards Tennessee Williams from when his material made it big.  Karl Malden gets the low marks for doing nothing but yelling.  He's very monotone.  But to see him sweat and struggle and pull on his sad, diamond-shaped thatch of what passes for hair in extreme frustration allows a few gems like, "WHAT IS THIS, GRASS?" to pass by.  Malden's character is the ultimate loser, perhaps the biggest loser ever encountered onscreen.  He fails at everything.  His crime is even discovered in the first act, and is even obvious to his thumb-sucking bride with her fourth-grade education.  He can't even yell at Aunt Rose (who looks like Harpo in a tea towel) very effectively.  Yes, the black farm-hands and Chinese workers constantly giggling at him from the edges of every scene do make a slightly distasteful margin illustration, but again, it also just echoes what we in the audience are doing.

I loved the greasy details and for a purely visual medium like film, Baby Doll just about has a stink.  The floors are rotting and slippery with melted icebox trays.  There's a pigpen in the front yard (how scenic) and  all they eat for breakfast is a Coke.  Sure, today, Baby Doll looks kinda hokey but I bet you if anyone made such a bluntly rude picture about the lack of sophistication in rural Quebec, or Alberta bible-thumpers, well, sign me up because I would be laughing all the way through that one, too.