There are some movies that transcend their cinematic boundaries and become wondrous experiences that defy all attempts at plot synopses, reviews and critical theory. They can never be described — only experienced. If ever there was an example of this transformational cinema it’s the 1974 Japanese martial arts epic of fists and plot points gone wild, The Street Fighter. Starring the electrifying Sonny Chiba as the most despicably amoral, charismatic anti-hero the screen has ever seen, The Street Fighter is 91 minutes of nonstop, jaw-dropping WTF-ness. And of course the perfect place to see such a film is the grindhouse dungeon of the Cult Fiction Underground. I’ll be there Friday night, but don’t be surprised if after the movie they open the doors to find the audience has vanished — raptured away into B-movie grindhouse nirvana. $5.