Unflappable and unstoppable mouse secret agent Nick Grabovsky (László Sinkó) with his deadpan voice, baggy pants and a big "G" on his shirt, goes up against the criminal cat gang run by the sinister, metal-pawed Mr. Teufel (Miklós Benedek), in Hungarian director Béla Ternovszky's surreal, animated sci-fi treasure. Set in the year 80 AMM ("After Mickey Mouse") on Planet X where cats and rats have banded together to eliminate mice, the film features a show-stopping series of musical numbers including a deranged Euro-disco song ("Just purr with me / Touch me with tender paws") and a bizarre chorus of Mexican vampire bats named Los Vampiros who inhabit an ancient Mayan temple.

“A crime is a crime, even if committed by kings,” intones the narrator of director József Gémes’s animated portrait of the supposedly “heroic” age of medieval knights and kings, a sprawling and bloody tapestry of ruthless combat. Based on an epic narrative poem by 19th century Hungarian writer János Arany, Heroic Times has a unique visual style combining gorgeous oil paintings and silken 2-D animation.

Hungarian director György Kovásznai’s wildly idiosyncratic animated musical is one of the most indescribably strange, personal and totally irresistible cartoon features ever made. A truly insane mash-up of styles, from 1920s Art Deco to 1960s Psychedelia to late 1970s louche Roxy Music decadence, BUBBLE BATH is incredibly restless and creative, the bohemian love-child of Bill Plympton’s off-kilter individualism and Ralph Bakshi’s wonderfully warped, rubbery visual style. In other words: it’s not quite like any animated film you’ve ever seen before. Sadly, this was director and animator Kovásznai’s only feature film -- he died of leukemia in 1983. BUBBLE BATH has been beautifully restored by the National Film Institute in Hungary for its first-ever U.S. release by Deaf Crocodile.

Director Juraj Jakubisko's Gothic horror comedy about an orphan who hides out in Frankenstein's castle with a lovable rogues' gallery of monsters. A bittersweet, slapstick cross between Monster Squad, Young Frankenstein and the Island of Misfit Toys, Freckled Max is a nostalgic Gothic fairytale about broken hearts and monsters who long to be loved for who they are - and a truly delightful discovery for genre fans.

Director Jiří Barta’s stop-motion animated masterpiece, based on The Pied Piper of Hamelin, is set in a dark and twisted medieval village of narrow streets and weird Gothic arches, half-CABINET OF DR. CALIGARI and half-Jan van Eyck. The money-obsessed citizens, carved out of wood blocks and speaking in an onomatopoeic babble, are like George Grosz caricatures, literally spouting coins from their mouths instead of words. The rats are far more organic and sympathetic, made of real fur and whiskers, constantly tunneling and burrowing under the towering arches and cobblestone streets above. (In one of the film’s many surreal moments, a rat emerges from a gargoyle’s gaping maw.) Fans of fellow Czech animation legend Jan Švankmajer and the Brothers Quay will adore Barta’s eerie, Expressionist gem, recently restored for its first-ever U.S. release through Krátký Film Praha, Deaf Crocodile and Comeback Company.

A unique and almost indescribable mix of Gothic fiction, steampunk gadgetry (designed by Czech animation wizard Jan Švankmajer), slapstick comedy and romantic opera, director Oldřich Lipský's wonderfully bonkers delight has elements of THE FEARLESS VAMPIRE KILLERS, Terry Gilliam, Mel Brooks and "The Benny Hill Show." Based on an 1892 Jules Verne novel The Carpathian Castle (which partially inspired Bram Stoker to write Dracula), the film follows Count Teleke of Tölökö (Michal Dočolomanský) on the trail of the count's lost lover, opera singer Salsa Verde (Evelyna Steimarová) - only to discover she's been abducted by fiendish Baron Gorc of Gorceny (Miloš Kopecký), whose castle home is filled with the bizarre inventions of mad scientist Orfanik

Swiss director Jean-Louis Roy’s long-lost mid-1960s Cold War super-spy thriller is a marvelous and surreal hall of mirrors, part-DR. Strangelove, part-Alphaville, with sly nods to British TV shows like “The Avengers.” The film stars a Who’s Who of great Sixties character actors starting with the unforgettable Daniel Emilfork as crazed scientist Herbert Von Krantz, who’s invented a device to sterilize all nuclear weapons. A mad herd of rival spies are desperate to get their hands on the device, including legendary French singer Serge Gainsbourg as the leader of a sect of bald, turtleneck-wearing assassins, and Jess Franco vet Howard Vernon (The Awful Dr. Orlof). Gainsbourg’s deranged jazz-lounge song, “Bye Bye Mr. Spy” – performed by him on a funeral parlor organ, no less – is arguably the film’s high point. “An accomplished spy is at the same time psychologist, artist, funambulist, conjurer,” to quote one of the characters – and the same could be said of Roy’s exotic camera obscura of B&W Cold War paranoia.

Legendary animator and cartoonist Bill Plympton’s first feature, The Tune is a wildly surreal animated musical comedy about a struggling songwriter named Del (voiced by Daniel Neiden), desperate to write a hit tune to save his relationship with his pert, long-suffering girlfriend Didi (voiced by Maureen McElheron, who co-wrote the script and composed the music). On his way to meet her and his boss, Del gets sidetracked in the cheerfully deranged Alternate Universe of Flooby Nooby: a strangely nostalgic vision of 1950s middle-class America as filtered through the affectionate-but-twisted sensibilities of David Lynch, Talking Heads and classic Warner Bros. Bugs Bunny ‘toons. Plympton’s famed animation style, done in colored pencils with a gorgeous pastel palette, is perfectly suited to this beautifully off-kilter gem.

Night Flight invites you into the the existential weirdness of the wonderfully loopy Soviet-era sci-fi comedy KIN-DZA-DZA, recently restored by Mosfilm for its first-ever U.S. release by Deaf Crocodile. Two average Muscovites are teleported across the universe to the planet Pluke, a Tatooine-like desert world whose inhabitants are hilariously noncommunicative and where common wooden matches are tremendously valuable. A deadpan, absurdist mixture of Kurt Vonnegut, Monty Python, Samuel Beckett and Jodorowsky's never-made Dune where alien cultures are even more haphazard and WTF? than our own, the film is also a savage satire of bureaucratic idiocy and dysfunction no matter what political system you're living under - or what planet you're living on.

A combination feline detective story, Gothic mystery and occult horror, Felidae follows green-eyed protagonist Francis and his grizzled, one-eyed companion Blaubart as they unravel the killings stretching back decades, involving death cults, genetic experimentation and a mysterious martyr religion. One of the most sought-after titles among world animation fans and never before officially released in the U.S., Felidae marries the dark, adult themes and nightmarish imagery of Watership Down with the family-friendly animation style of Don Bluth. Be forewarned, though: this is not a kids’ animated movie – Felidae features R- rated language and cat-themed slang (humans are dissed as merely “can openers”), bloody dissection and more.

Long-lost 1980s Romanian animated sci-fi film DELTA SPACE MISSION in incredibly strange and beautiful work of galactic eye candy that defies all rules of perspective and logic; like M.C. Escher and Moebius teaming up on a Romanian Saturday morning cartoon. In the year 3084, a Modigliani-esque alien journalist with blue-green skin, Alma, boards a state-of-the-art spacecraft named Delta - whose highly advanced computer brain develops a mad teenage crush on her with disastrous results. Fueled by an addictive electronic synth score by Calin Ioachimescua and scanned in 4K from the camera negative by the Romanian National Film, Delta Space Mission is available in the US for the first time ever!

A truly gonzo Croatian sci-fi / fantasy / comedy about a struggling writer named Robert who dreams up a story of gold-skinned alien androids named Andra, Targo and Ulu from a distant planet. Incredibly, his fictional alien creations become reality, causing chaos in his relationship with his girlfriend Biba and threatening his small seaside village. The alluring lead robot Andra looks like H.R. Giger re-designed the Maschinenmensch from Fritz Lang's METROPOLIS. But nothing rivals the Mumu Monster -- created for the film by legendary Czech animator Jan Švankmajer --, a rubber-suited, multi-tentacled creation that destroys a wedding party, ripping off heads and spouting plumes of toxic green smoke while a blind accordion player blithely plays his squeezebox. VISITORS was a rare live-action feature from animator Dusan Vukotic (1927-1998), best known for his stunning UPA-style cartoon shorts including "Cow On The Moon" (1959) and the Oscar-winning "The Substitute" (1961). This long-unavailable genre treat has been newly restored in 4K by Deaf Crocodile and Zagreb Film.

In the vein of horror anthologies like Bava's BLACK SABBATH, the long-unseen PRAGUE NIGHTS is a gorgeous and supernatural vision of ancient and modern Prague: caught between Mod Sixties fashions and nightmarish Medieval catacombs, and filled with Qabbalistic magic, occult rituals, clockwork automatons and satanic visitors. In the first tale, director Jiří Brdečka's stunning "The Last Golem," a young rabbi (Jan Klusák) struggles to fashion a massive, silent giant out of living clay - until he's distracted by a mute servant girl (Lucie Novotná). In the second episode, "Bread Slippers," an 18th-century countess (Teresa Tuszyńska) indulges her passion for sweet cakes, adulterous affairs, and secret kisses with pretty maids - until a mysterious visitor (Josef Somr) whisks her away to an abandoned mansion, where Fate has a different kind of dance in store for her. In the final story, "Poisoned Poisoner," a ravishing murderess in the Middle Ages dispatches lecherous merchants to the tune of upbeat 60s Czech Pop songs (scored by the renowned Zdeněk Liška).

Part Kafka, part Agatha Christie and part Monty Python, director Karen Shakhnazarov's surreal satire of Communism follows an Everyman engineer named Varakin (Leonid Filatov) who arrives in a remote city where nothing quite makes sense, but everyone acts as if it does.  In Zerograd, we’re treated to a bizarre and wonderful sideshow of non sequiturs out of a Wes Anderson film, including an underground museum filled with a thousand years of real and imagined Russian history ("Here's the pistol with which Urusov shot the False Dimitry II.") Frozen in time, frozen far beneath the surface, the waxwork figures are strangely beautiful and forlorn, like Shakhnazarov's marvelous and enigmatic satire of Soviet bureaucracy. With music by the great Eduard Artemyev (Solaris, Stalker).

A new restoration from cult label partner Deaf Crocodile of the long-lost, independently financed Blaxploitation film Solomon King is streaming now! In the vein of Shaft and Dolomite, Solomon King stars Sal Watts (who also directs, wrote and produced) as an ex-CIA nightclub owner seeking violent revenge for the murder of his girlfriend by hitmen working for an oil-obsessed Middle Eastern ruler. Shot in Oakland, CA in 1973 with a cast of mostly non-professional actors, Solomon King features a stunning soul-funk soundtrack and incredible clothes from Watts's own Mr. Sal's Fashion stores.

Arguably the only anime ever made inspired by both Hello Kitty and Thomas Pynchon’s The Crying of Lot 49, TAMALA 2010 is a futuristic techno fever dream that flows back and forth in time, following the adorable wide-eyed kitty Tamala. Escaping into space, she’s waylaid by the God of Death and crash-lands near Hate City on the Planet Q, where she meets a new boyfriend, goes bowling and shopping in a thrift store – and realizes she may be the latest reincarnation of an ancient Greek cat cult with ties to the omnipresent Catty & Co. A heady, conceptual work of psychedelic sci-fi, influenced by the style of classic manga and anime such as Osamu Tezuka’s Astro Boy and Takashi Murakami’s postmodern art movement Superflat, TAMALA 2010 is also a savage take on modern consumer culture.

Populated by singing (and barely dressed) Mermaids, a funky hepcat Octopus and whiskey-drinking Skeleton Pirates, the underwater kingdom is the grooviest scene this side of Yellow Submarine, with helpings of Dr. Seuss, Sid & Marty Krofft and Harry Nilsson's The Point thrown in. (Danish kids' entertainment in the early 1970s was truly outtasite!) In addition to the candy-colored, kaleidoscopic visuals, the film is famed for its incredibly addictive soundtrack featuring Jazz heavyweights of Copenhagen circa 1970, with vocals sung by the cream of Danish late 60s Pop and Rock on tracks like "Octopussong/ Blækspruttesangen" and "seahorsesong/ Søhestesangen".

The final film from Russian fantasy master Aleksandr Ptushko, Ruslan & Ludmila was a glorious and magical summation of his career. The 2-1/2 hour film based on an epic fairy tale written in 1820 by Alexander Pushkin is filled with the sweeping lyricism, bejeweled visual F/X and mythic storytelling that put him on par with Walt Disney, Ray Harryhausen and Mario Bava. The film opens with the seemingly-joyous marriage of bogatyr (warrior) Ruslan to Ludmila, the daughter of Prince Vladimir. On their wedding night, Ludmila is spirited away by the riotously long-bearded wizard Chernomor (Vladimir Fyodorov), and taken to his sinister palace where she’s held prisoner.