There are few movies that more melodically ring the chimes of discovery than Sam Peckinpah’s 1971 classic, “Straw Dogs.” I made the point of seeing it the other day after coming across a review that condemned its unsavory and animalistic view of human nature. At that point it became a “must see” for me. A few moments past the credits, one comprehends why it so traumatizes our polystyrene (over)sensibilities. There is nothing friendly, forgiving, or welcoming about it. The movie is uncompromising and forces the audience to examine urges which they would deny having. In our age of therapism, such...