If you like your horror sex comedies dripping with depravity and unnecessary John Stamos references, Judge Bill Gibron thinks you'll dig this daffy Double Feature from Chris Seaver and Low Budget Pictures.
The female of the species is the most deadly of all…
Lori, Ryoko, and Charlotte are modern day roommates, and as such, they have the same concerns as any up-to-date cosmopolitan gals. That's right, they are obsessed with sex and how their big ass breasts (or lack thereof) will affect their chances of riding baloney pony. Charlotte and Ryoko are lucky—both have hooters that holler 'atcha when you walk in a room. But Lori is a perfect pirate's dream in the torso department. She is so desperate for human headlights that she hooks up with weirdo Goth guy Julian for a little demon dialing.
When the titty transformation works, Lori is up to her rack in relationships, specifically from local lover boy (The) Max and his clan of barely Young Ones. But the incantation has brought Phil the fun-loving devil back from the bowels of Beelzebub's bunghole, and he's horny as Hades and looking for some tainted tush. Naturally, the girl's "coming out" party is the place to be for our hopped-up heretic and his depressed vampire friend Razor. Maybe there they will learn not only to be filthy and nasty, but also Filthy McNastier!
When Clavell and his G-cupped girlfriend Maxine break up over his small schlong, the desperate dude seeks solace in his best friend's Wicca world. They make a deal to do some demon dialing (yes, again!) and lo and behold, a female frightmare arrives on the scene. She's D'artagnan, who matches the original party pitchfork Phil blow for ball. After knocking up (and off) the Teen Witch, Ms. D makes a busy beeline to Clavell's to reclaim the man meat she gave him. But since Maxine has rediscovered her ex's extremity, there's just no getting to his tool.
So D'artagnan systematically seduces and slaughters the party guests, using her teeth-filled vagina (yes, you read that right!) to snatch them to death. It will take a return visit from one messed-up adolescent monkey, as well as an original high-haired hero from the mystic past, to patch things up between Satan, his she-servant, and the now hung hunk. But this final confrontation will not be pretty. Indeed, it looks to be the Filthy McNastiest showdown in history.
After the creative cosmic stumble of Mulva 2: Kill Teen Ape! (sub-par Chris Seaver, which to many may be a redundancy), it's with a stool-smeared grin that the LBP director (that's Low Budget Pictures, for you know-nothing mofos) is back in McNasty land, giving Phil the demon and his merry band of sexual deviants another rinse and wring through the surreal cycle of independent farce. The original Filthy McNasty, paired up with the wonderful, wholly inventive Mulva film (the initial Zombie Ass Kicker extravaganza still is the benchmark in the LBP canon), was a paean to everything penile and poontang, a bloody, ballsy excuse to use curse words as conversation and vile descriptions of perversion as passion. It twisted and soiled the simple concept of the '80s teen comedy/horror slasher film and converted it into a series of inside jokes laced with porno and gore.
If you're expecting Filthy McNastier or Filthy McNastiest to be any different, then you're obviously sniffing the wrong pair of crotchless panties. Seaver has basically made the same movie twice, taking the plot premise of a huge appendage (testicular or chesticular) and offering the horrid Hellbeast providing the supernatural cosmetic surgery in both its XX and XY ideals. The gags are all the same—the characters are nearly identical—but it's interesting how a gender retrofitting makes one movie an obvious satire of sexual standards, while the other is merely a series of sensationally disgusting dick jokes. Both films supply imagination and ingratiation in droves, but only one becomes something other than a series of scurrilous assaults on good taste and human decency—which in the hands of The Seavage, et. al., is not necessarily a bad thing.
Filthy McNastiest is the lesser of the two enjoyable evils, a celebration of breasts and boner that plays like a series of pop culture references strung together by smegma and gonorrhea. As with all the performances in a LBP film, the cast Seaver assembles is really not playing characters so much as creations, fertile homages to the media soaked scenarios that have burrowed themselves inside the filmmaker's festering brain like so many TV and movie mealworms. Bows to The X-Files, Bill Cosby, Friday the 13th, hip-hop culture, and horrible ethnic stereotypes add up to almost an hour of power as Seaver swings wildly at any and all targets, coming up with a few winners along the way. While the dude dedicated to David Lee Roth is not given enough to do, the large-lunged Cherry Brady almost steals with show with her adult film acting (she's a well known, very well endowed XXX star) and constant knocker nods.
Naturally, this wouldn't be a LBP joint without an appearance by TeenApe and Bonejack, two of Seaver's most original creations. The misogynistic simian is back again, performing bathroom abortions and doing his Dice Clay damnedest to put the skanks, hos, and biatches in their place. The return of Mr. BJ is not nearly as sweet, since he's doing nothing more than the ninja hero routine he used in Mulva 2. The director himself puts on the Don King wig and whacked-out bottlebrush moustache, doing his Amos and Andy best to black himself up for maximum non-PC pratfalls.
As Clavell, the guy who dreams of a dong the size of a submarine, Jason McCall is just right, modulating between macho and moronic with flexibility and fun. Though it's the last in the Filthy McNasty trilogy, this is really the lesser of all the films. It's fun, and the gazanga gal angle is enjoyable (for reasons other that the plot—wink, wink), but when compared to the mammary methods of the second slice of McNasty Seavage, it can't hold a carnal candle.
Filthy McNastier is the real keeper here, a nonstop lampoon of the sexual stumbling blocks between men and women. The first fifteen minutes of this movie are just classic, as our three leading ladies laugh about and lord over their large chests. With their constantly clever comments about the cleavage, we suddenly see a semi-satiric streak in Seaver's scripting. He's obviously deconstructing the entire breast as sex object syndrome that seems to dominate any discussion of female physicality. But by flaunting and making fun of it, Filthy McNastier is pointing out how really foolish such a standard is.
Seaver also has other targets to take on. He gives his fiancé/wife Lauren the plum as pudding role of a buxom babe who speaks and emulates the entire eerie mannerisms of those awfully annoying Japanimation gals. With her broken English, bad sentence composition, and USA A-OK dialogue, we instantly learn where LBP stands on such manga muck (though Seaver is an admitted geek). The goofy Goth kid Julian is also a stitch, delivering his lines with a combination of Paul Lyndne's loafer lightness and self-deprecating dopiness that basically wees all over the entire dressed-in-black generation.
Seaver can still stumble as a filmmaker (continuity? consistency? hello?) and there is a rushed feel to these productions, a strike-while-the-iron-is-heating-up notion of novelty that sees shortcuts taken to get to certain points. But Filthy McNastier and Filthy McNastiest are classic LBP-age, a combination of bad taste and bold artistry that manages to overcome its "for friends, by friends" feeling to translate to a broader cinematic demographic. This doesn't mean everyone will "get" these films, just those willing to let Seaver belch and boast until he's done expelling. How you react to the anarchic aroma will definitely determine your LBP propensity. But be warned—it can get quite odiferous at times.
Shot on digital video and substantially shoe-stringed in transfer, the two films have similar, but slightly different visual variables. McNastier is presented in a 1.33:1 full screen image with colors that are a little faded and an overall print that is sometimes fuzzy and indistinct. McNastiest is somewhat better, but it has a faux-cinematic 1.66:1 non-anamorphic letterbox look that presents its own problems. There is lots of noticeable grain, and again we have to deal with lax pigmentation and a deficiency of detailed clarity.
As for Seaver's sonics, they are never very good. TeenApe speaks from behind a mask that muffles all his clever comebacks, while the rest of the cast are continuously undermined by the internal microphone manner of the dialogue recording. Seaver also loves him some ska, and whenever another of those ranking full stop songs come popping on the soundtrack—especially in Dolby Digital Stereo—it's enough to unblock your pork pie hat. Everything gets drowned in two-tone tuneage.
Aside from a couple of nominal clips (Seaver does a decent Lloyd Kaufman-like intro, there is a commercial for a TeenApe Love Doll with incestual overtones), the majority of the bonus feature space is taken up with commentary and Splatter Rampage trailers. McNastier boasts only one alternative narrative track (with Seaver solo), while McNastier gives co-star Meredith Host (she played the demon D'artagnan) a seat in the speaker's box. And, of course, there is another free-for-all discussion featuring several of the cast. The McNastier track is a downer, with Seaver disowning the film for "personal" reasons, and constantly touting how crappy it is in light of McNastiest. He does hint, however, at the origins of the film, as well as why he went back to the Filthy Universe in the first place.
The tracks on McNastiest are also less than enlightening. Paired with D'artagnan actress Host, we get some talk about the demon make-up job, the killer vagina (which is a direct rip-off from the Italian splatter movie The Evil Clutch), and what it was like to work with Cherry Brady's chest. The cast confab is better, since they provide anecdotes about their co-stars as well as the problems that persisted during the three-day shoot.
Such a short production schedule will not surprise fans (or critics) of Seaver and LBP. His is a muse moving at mach ADD, never resting to consider his past, or taking the time to hone and perfect his present. As a result, Filthy McNastier/Filthy McNastiest will require a cinematic sensibility the size of the Grand Tetons in order to accept its homemade humoresque. But as long as a comedy is funny, a lot of flaws can be forgiven. Luckily, this double feature provides a lot of lowbrow, scatological yucks—in any connotation of that word. You may feel a little skeazy afterward, but it's a picnic with the perverted while it lasts.
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Scales of Justice, Filthy McNastier
Perp Profile, Filthy McNastier
Studio: Tempe Video
Distinguishing Marks, Filthy McNastier
• Intro by Chris Seaver
Scales of Justice, Filthy McNastiest
Perp Profile, Filthy McNastiest
Studio: Tempe Video
Distinguishing Marks, Filthy McNastiest
• Intro by Chris Seaver
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