Head on over to Spreaker and check out the latest episode of the Ed Wood Jesus Do? Podcast in which the podcrew jump head on into that milky sex pool to dissect the film, production, and idiosyncrasies of Eraserhead, David Lynch’s 1977 student film that took the Midnight Movie world by storm and propelled its director into the art film limelight. Come peep this perfect film with us and don’t even try to skip this episode.
Film: The Greasy Strangler (2016)
Directed by Jim Hosking
Available on Amazon Prime
this shit is written by eric
Spoiler Alert: This film contains gratuitous amount of prosthetic penis. If you are a fan of that one scene in Boogie Nights, you will fall fast in love with this cutie of a film from 2016. The Greasy Strangler was directed by British filmmaker, Jim Hosking who is also known for the highly sexualized gore-fest The ABCs of Death. The film centers around a father and son as they search for life and love while guiding Disco Tours through some desolate commercial dead zones in some non-descript Northeastern textile town that lost all of its jobs to China. The world consists of dialogue so dumb it gleams brilliant and characters defined by their crazy sexual predilections. It’s also perfectly acceptable to wear a disco one-piece with the crotch cut out to expose one’s monstrous uncircumcised penis…
Big Brayden and his father, Big Ronnie, played to disgustingly incredible effect respectively by Sky Elobar and Michael St. Michael, live together and create lies about the local community’s involvement in the history of disco. Ronnie loves his food as greasy as possible, piling on what appears in the film to be just hyper-viscous petroleum jelly onto everything he eats. Brayden loves cooking for his father and writing fantasy novels with Rastafarian leads. Brayden soon falls for Janet, played by Elizabeth De Razzo. She also portrayed Maria in Eastbound and Down, and is an absolute delight in this film; thankfully not being typecast as the stereotypical Mexican woman with a thick accent. In a film full of the wide gamut of acting ability, she comes across as a shining light. Brayden and Janet soon fall for each other and Big Ronnie steps in the way, seducing Janet by being his “smoothie” self. On the side, Big Ronnie runs around the B-plot as The Greasy Strangler, a serial killer who greases up his entire nude body in order to strangle the locals.
The film revels in its true strength, which is making you feel uneasy about certain social and tactile conventions. In a way, the atmosphere is quite reminiscent of Eraserhead, insomuch as the exterior shots feel oppressive with desolation, and the interior shots tend to disgust with their abrasive visions of human and animal biological function. It is quite easy to find yourself as turned off by Ronnie eating a greased up sausage as it is in the scene of Brayden masturbating his comically microscopic penis to completion while on the phone with Janet. It is hysterical in its dark and grotesque humor and I feel like that may be where the film falls short. While it is weird and often times hard to watch, I cannot not say it is all that original in the ways it tries to shock you. I applaud its use of male nudity, but it is nothing more offensive than one would see in the YMCA locker room; old and ugly penises grow stale quite easily.
Overall, the film’s casting is pretty great. Michael St. Michael has face appeal that is so fucking great in this latest resurgence of cinematic weirdness. He looks like Karl Lagerfeld meets Klaus Kinski meets Denis Lavant (especially in that UNKLE music video, “Rabbit in your Headlights”) and has a deep and gruff voice that simultaneously makes him seem smooth as grease and greasy as grease. While some of his line delivery is suspect and feels read from an off-screen placard, there is no denying it matches the tone of the film. Brayden looks like what you imagine every neckbeard nice guy to look like, but exudes a certain charm like the guy outside the convenience store you can’t help but be polite to, despite the fact he has been giving you the same sob story about trying to get enough money to get to Denver for two years.
This is one of those films that is weird and probably just for weirdness sake. But if you are into that sort of thing, definitely check it out. You’ll dig it, probably.
New Column Time – As you may know, our cult film podcast, Ed Wood Jesus Do?, has been unleashed upon the world, and though in great length we will dissecting films through an audio format, there are films too important not to discuss here. So welcome to Ed Wood Jesus Do? The Column! (THE N IS SILENT, MOTHERFUCKERS!) These will be less reviews and more explorations of what works and why you should see them.
Film: KUSO (2017)
Directed by Steve, or Steve Ellison, or Flying Lotus. Written by Steve Ellison, David Firth, and Zack Fox. Follow them on Twitter or whatever.
Available Exclusively on Shudder
this shit is written by eric
Good gravy! That’s all I can say directly after seeing the 2017 horror film, KUSO. I don’t even have time to replay the events in my mind or to even find a suitable through-line to make everything digestible. I am going from the gut on this motherfucker and the gut is telling me that KUSO is the greatest film to ever be created by Earthlings. I am not 100% certain these Earthlings exist on our temporal-spatial plane, and in fact, this is the Citizen Kane of a dimension in which films are strange, and linger in parts of your brain not connected to logic or consciousness. So maybe us.
KUSO is the first film directed by Steve Ellison, otherwise known as Flying Lotus. If you have not heard of him, I am sure by the name, you can easily pick up what he is putting down. This film follows four chaotic vignettes in a post-earthquake, surrealist LA. It was co-written by David Firth, creator of the legendary YouTube creep hype toon, Salad Fingers. The film is strange, deep in its shallowness with a depth that is shallow in and of itself. There are CGI breasts and even a psychotropic healer named Mr. Quibbles living inside George Clinton’s asshole. It also features Adult Swim and Comedy Central alums such as Hannibal Burress, Tim Heidecker, Anders Holm, and Donnell Rawlings. It is intense, scary, gross, and fucking awesome.
Let’s stop there. This isn’t just a weird film. That’s right, we’re about to get real in here. Flying Lotus’ filmmaking is a lot like his rap. He riddles the listener with absurd lines and awkward sounds, but behind all the ugly surrealism and the offensiveness meant to shock, there is real fucking talent. This film feels like the marriage of the absurdist humor of Tim and Eric with the ultra-violent visions of Takashi Miike. It is as important to cinema in 2017 as Eraserhead was in 1977. Every shot of a little person rubbing his own feces all over a sticky xenomorphesque pod in the woods is bookended by magical scenes that instantly develop the tone in much the same way Apichatpong Weerasethakul established his in the astounding Uncle Boonmee Who Can Recall his Past Lives. There is a melding of obtuse CGI imagery with Troma-style practical effects. A lesser artist would have left you feeling lost inside, but Mr. Lotus creates a world that doesn’t give a fuck about how cohesive it looks. As much as this film may be dismissed as kissing the ass of Bunuel, it must be remembered much of the beauty of the famed Spanish surrealist was incorporated to allow subversive thought to become more easily digestible. KUSO is subversive thought wrapped in a fucking tortilla shell of subversive style. In other words, just like Flying Lotus.
For now, the real question is: “How the fuck am I supposed to return to my life? What am I supposed to do with the vivid imagery of someone repeatedly stabbing the head of an erect penis with an ice pick?” My guess is that I need to watch it again to try and make sense of it. And when I can’t, I’ll tell someone else to watch it, and you should too. Tell your high friends to watch it; dissect it in between bitter bong hits. Tell your church friends to watch it and that God exists and He created a masterpiece about two fuzzy creatures who perform abortions like Scorpion from Mortal Kombat; “Get over here!” “Fatality!” “Toasty!” Tell your mother to fuck off, she probably won’t like this film.
The film enters with Busdriver, one of my all-time favorite lords of Hip-Hop, doing a majestic spoken word piece. He only returns post-credit with another melodic monologue, a sigh of relief, a bit of beautiful levity to let us know that though the world is absurd, we live in it, and will continue to live in it. “So skin me alive. I survived, and I can barely believe it; quake,” he says in the last line of his soliloquy. “So skin me alive. I survived, and I can barely believe it; quake.” And with that, we get the most profound statement of this film, and possibly our lives.