Going in I knew it was a film that tried to up how disgusting it was for any justifiable reason as the movie progresses. The Greasy Strangler; I've never made more hand gestures in a theater to no one after seeing the things I saw. I hope that the producers had the foresight to film the audiences reaction using night vision for a commercial as I can only imagine what other audience members faces contorted to as I heard the sounds of "Ech," and "What the f**k!"Sundance Next Fest was in its death throes with the last screening of the festival to be shown before going away for another year. Nearby a small hub let fans play VR games at the aptly titled Next Door. Nothing could have prepared anyone for the gross fest that would be seen before us. Perhaps, torture porn and The 120 Days of Sodom might prepare someone for this feature.
Yet, setting us up for the film was a completely other disgusting mess, Royal, from director Flying Lotus. Barf bags were given out before the screening with Royal written on them. It was only later that the rope inside would be explained and why we needed the bags as we saw a sexual encounter with a living boil who gave a bj. That was between what seemed to be a brother and sister who liked to get infected and have strangulation sex; the rope we got. It's gross and delving anymore into it is a waste as I have to finish writing and then forgetting the other film.
A film where a father and son dressed in pink and in short shorts have a walking disco tour of LA. I know, what? Their relationship is contrived at best. Ronnie (Michael St. Michaels) treats his son Brayden (Sky Elobar) like crap. Oh, and Ronnie is the Greasy Strangler, a bizarre naked version of Ronnie with eye-popping super human strength. Did I mention he was naked and covered in grease?
There's dick everywhere in this film. Ronnie's long hog hangs out just about everywhere almost all the time. Why? To gross you out. So gross.
Brayden and Ronnie get into a love triangle over a woman who I thought from the trailer was a cross-dressing man. The love triangle is the main story in-between the murders of the greasy strangler.
This is all with two notes that director/writer Jim Hosking's loved: holding on shots and repeating the same lines.
What's scary is how competent the shots were. The director could easily direct a modern film and have done something funny or poignant, but made something so unwatchable through the writing and actors to the bombardment of penis on screen that I recommend no one see it, not even as a dare or as fearless crusader of seeing bad cinema.
It's like the acting of The Lobster with a sketch going on too long from Tim & Eric. Just don't let anyone see it, unless you hate them. Lie and make up something and have someone watch this movie as revenge.
I will hate to see it at the line-up of Specrefest this October.
