Okay, here's the deal. There ain't one amongst us who doesn't know that Tim Burton is just about a twisted little guy. Don't get me wrong, now. I'm not saying I wouldn't eat dinner or have a drink with the fella. I don't imagine he'd snap and go Hannibal Lecter on me. I'm just saying his view of reality is about a taco short of a number twelve combination platter.

Looka here. The off-kilter world of Pee-Wee's Big Adventure leaned a little further left with Burton's influence. The funkiest view of the Afterlife, complete with guidebook and case worker, came from Burton's cranium in his unforgettable Beetlejuice. Jack Nicholson dancing to Prince music in a half-toned Gotham City? Burton. An orphaned cutlery boy adopted by Avon ladies? Burton. Animated skeletons kidnapping Santa Claus? Burton.

Oh yeah. He made a "straight film" too. Even won an Oscar for one of his actors. But his "straight" effort was a bio-pic of the slap-goofiest man (and I use the term loosely) to ever work in Hollywood. Ed Wood's life was already so whacked out that anything Tim could've added would have only made it more normal.

Burton's latest film, Mars Attacks!, premiered on Friday the 13th (of course!) I was so primed to see this movie, I could hardly live with myself. So primed that I'd trained my dog Orson to do a conga-jig at the mere mention of the title. (You shoulda seen him when an ad hit the screen during "Jeopardy.") I'm not so sure why I was so pumped. Mostly, I imagine, it was the thought of Tim Burton directing the end of the world. And, so help me, I couldn't stop giggling. The anticipation was so strong that my concentration had been soft-focus for weeks, and in a related note, I'd like to offer an apology to a patient of mine, Col. Claude Dupree: I swear, Claude, with the right haircut, nobody's gonna notice that scar.

Anyway, I go to see Mars Attacks! It's been at least 27 hours since I watched it, and I'm still grappling for the proper turn of phrase to describe just what I witnessed. Here, I'll give it a shot:

Tim, I am in awe. I am overwhelmed. I am amazed. You are, indeed, the god of Bizarro World. I genuflect to your crackpot genius.

If you want to have a clear understanding of Mars Attacks!...well, you can't. You can try taking a copy of Independence Day, cover it with the contents of six cans of Nabisco Easy Cheese, spray it with bright yellow Day-Glow pavement paint, dress it in liederhosen, and spank heartily with an "Ultraman" script, and you've got a close approximation.

Mars Attacks! is a combination of a 1950s sci-fi movie, a spoof of recent blockbuster alien invasion flicks, and a drug-warped view of an alien-induced apocalypse. Yes, Mars Attacks! is one of the weirdest, funniest, strangest, wildest, and best films in years.

I can't go into a depth of detail without spoiling some surprises. Let me say this. If after the first three minutes, you can honestly say, "Ah, this is nothing special," then you are one severely jaded bastard. Go directly home. Do not pass "Go." Do not collect $200.

Burton tosses out big-name cast members like a poker hustler with a sleeve full of aces. He scoops on special effects like a mashed potato server at Morrison's. He fires off a soundtrack chock full of more goodies than a Stuckey's check-out counter. And you just sit there and giggle. Burton manages to take every predictable scenario and stand it on its head. Your brain incessantly recites a buzzing mantra: "What the hell was that?" While your mouth hangs unattractively open. A puddle of drool gathering in your popcorn cup.

The thing I loved the most about Mars Attacks!, more than anything, was its attitude. If a film could be a person, this one is a snotty, little brat of a fifth-grader, one of those Braniac test-tube kids who knows he's smarter than his smartest teachers. No topic is too sacred to mock. Every cultural icon from the last 35 years has its Bizarro-World reference: JFK, Dr. Strangelove, Vegas lounge lizards, MTV, New Agers, Disco Music, Republicans, Democrats, Reagans, Perots, Trumps, Stephanopolouses, and the phrase "As Seen on TV." And for all the obscure kitsch and sub-referencing, it all works. Everything works.

I do not, however, recommend Mars Attacks! for everyone. If you don't have the gumption for surreal worlds, if you like your movie comedies tidy with one-liners and witty banter, if your socks must match your tie, then Mars Attacks! will frustrate and punish you from the get-go. But if you love an absolute freak-out, if you hate to know what's coming next, if you've worn your underwear on your head at least once in the past two years, then Mars Attacks! is gonna make a mighty fine movie outing.

Mars Attacks! is like a fine meal -- prime rib and potatoes au grautin -- blanketed with five inches of Oreo cookie filling. Dig through the delicious layer of sugar, and find an even more delicious feast.