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Imagine if John Waters directed a New French Extremity film, and you would have a pretty good idea of what to expect with Sheitan (Arabic for Satan). These days, Kim Chapiron’s deranged debut escapes virtually all mention in talks about that particular era of French transgressive filmmaking, however, that omission is more due to its scarcity rather than an actual lack of memorability. Certainly no one who has witnessed this cinematic exercise in sustaining unease can say it is bland — after all, the director went out of his way to make the characters as well as the audience uncomfortable. And, without a doubt, show-stealer Vincent Cassel did not hold back as the on-screen conveyer of said disquiet.

Sheitan may not be considered part of the Extremity club, on account of its comedic and seemingly straightforward execution, but its induction wouldn’t be too out of order, either. There is...