When an actor surprises the hell out of you three times in the space of just a couple of months, it’s staggering. Matthew McConaughey is one of those star-actors of whom I didn’t hold too high an opinion (though not too low, depending on the part or what Kate Hudson vehicle he was in). But lately, he’s taken a couple of risks that I found to be quite good—in Richard Linklater’s Bernie as a sleazy prosecutor who acts as the quasi-villain in an already twisted dark comic tale, and in Steven Soderbergh’s Magic Mike as a past-his-prime male stripper. Now we come to Killer Joe. Holy crap.

In Killer Joe, McConaughey plays the titular sheriff of a small redneck West Texas town who is hired when clients need a “job” done, that is, to have somebody killed. Chris Smith (Emile Hirsch) wants to enlist Joe to kill his mother so that he can receive the insurance money—he’s in debt—and he figures that he can hire Joe for 20 grand. But Joe, with his big cowboy hat and a devilish grin, wants $25,000 in cash, which Chris and his father (Thomas Hayden Church) can’t swing. However, there is the little matter of Chris’s sister, played by Juno Temple. Joe agrees she can be a retainer while he awaits payment. And by retainer, yes, that means Joe gets to have his way with her.

Killer Joe is one of the nastiest neo-noirs I’ve ever seen, and acted out with stunning pitch-black comic precision. In large part this was because I haven’t seen a William Friedkin film like this one, but he’s a natural for this material—it really is the Friedkin we know from The Exorcist, only in sorta Blood Simple/Coen brothers way. You’ll squirm in your seat.

Like in any good neo-noir, this one has some twists. Boy goddamn howdy does it! And Friedkin doesn’t back away when it comes to the sex and the violence, which is more implied than shown—the overall tone merited the NC-17 rating. (Think back to his previous collaboration with screenwriter Letts, the twisted psycho-horror Bug). Yet it’s his willingness to highlight how cruel, wicked, and desperate (and dumb, which Church is great at playing) the characters become that makes the movie such an enjoyable ride.

At the center of it, McConaughey steals the show. It’s a high point in a career filled with some peaks (Time to Kill) and big valleys (Surfer, Dude, seriously?). His performance reminds me of Werner Herzog’s direction to Nicholas Cage, the star of his Bad Lieutenant remake, to play the “ecstasy of evil”: sometimes it’s just fun to play evil without going to deep into a character’s psychology. Whatever agreement the director and actor made, they go for it all the way. I should note that in the final reel, when everything comes undone following (spoiler) the murder and the cover-up and pay-out, some of the most deliciously warped, cringe-inducing, uproariously funny material I’ve ever seen occurs. For better or worse, and mostly for the better, it’s an unforgettable climax of disturbing proportions.

Will the movie split audiences? Hell, yeah—I was surprised I didn’t see more walk-outs during my screening. But I will say this, you’ll never look at a leg of fried chicken the same way again. Or Matthew McConaughey without a shirt. And THAT is saying something.