Let's Review the Vulgar Misery of a Most Aggressively Gross Movie
Playful comic adaptation or perverted excuse for perversions? Yes.
Dear Moviegoers,
It's likely - VERY likely - that, whenever or if ever Todd Rohal's absolutely despicable film F*** My Son! comes around to digital or "physical" (eww) media, individuals will take, in solitary mass, a single solitary viewing based solely on its title. And that's fine, except for the solitary part. As with all movies, it's a theater, occupied by other cinema adventurers (or moviegoers), that is the prime place to watch a film, as a collective unit.
"Collective."
"Unit."
For F*** My Son!, that is the only prime way to watch it. This brings up thoughts on the trailer for John Waters' midnight classic Pink Flamingos, which was, brilliantly, a one-by-one post-screening collection of audience member reactions. "What are these people laughing at?" the opening title card says. From there, it's just midnighters speaking to the camera, either shocked or amused, but expressing their thoughts and feelings with cuteness and charm. How could this be, from a movie where a man "whistles" from his butt?
Because people were watching together. As a collective unit. Whoever is doing the marketing and distribution for F*** My Son!, tailoring the rollout directly to a more arthouse audience, is doing so with this mindset. The only preview video available is a mere glimpse - a justification for the title - of the misery to be unfolded on others. It states what it is and what it will be, but maintains a mystery all the same. The whole deck of cards is up its sleeve, only to be played when tickets are purchased.
Of course, a traditional theatrical run would be out of the question by virtue of the title alone, never mind its content. Carnival barking isn't by choice here.
And of course it could never be. F*** My Son! is, for better and best, exactly what the title demands. It's a sideshow freak of a comic adaptation/interpretation, a satirical-ish horror on grindhouse and midnight exploitation cinema, and a torture porn flick that's distilled in pickle brine. It's not that people won't believe their eyes, but rather that their vision is clear: they got what they paid for, fixings and more.
Out of fear of spoiling anything, and out of delight from maintaining its pre-show hush-hush aura, just know that the movie is about a woman and her daughter who find themselves kidnapped and at the mercy of an elderly lady who requests...well, it's understood what is wanted, right?
Robert Longstreet plays the vile old lady in a gender swap role, with the commitment of someone who's not only dedicated to the assignment, but is absolutely humble about it. Longstreet is what makes F*** My Son! hold together as a film, carrying what would've only been an exercise in stinky sleazy style and adorable audacious aesthetic on his arthritic-laden back and gross goal-oriented terror.
Self-assured and self-knowing, director Todd Rohal plays out his latest not unlike his previous Adult Swim-esque flavored projects, from the ambitiousness of M.O.P.Z. to the surprise of Uncle Kent 2. F*** My Son!'s story is the ingredient that's foreign to his catalog, but his approach is just the same. It's irreverently awkward with the comedy, blending the morbid with the absurd to concoct a confection that's biting and sweet, if with a sinister angle and intent. Could Rohal be performing a prank? Is he being as genuine as a Todd Solondz (Happiness) freaky feature? Both?
Yes.
In its Wikipedia entry, F* My Son is referenced with a link to a page about the Dan Aykroyd bomb of bizarre, Nothing But Trouble. This makes sense, though only on its face. Uncomfortable and strange comedies they are, but one was released mainstream, and the other went underground-like. Aykroyd's feature was a night of the living desperate (to kinda bring this back inverted to John Waters) regarding its release, while F*** My Son! is a monstrous meth addict on its way to the halfway house of a local cinema dive.
It knows where to screen and who to screen at. The title brings the curious in, but does the movie keep them in their seats? Only the brave will know, but they'll know collectively. As a unit. 3/5
Follow the movie on Instagram or visit its other links for more information and updates.
