‘Assholes’ Really is the Most Disgusting Movie Ever Made (FILM REVIEW)

[rating=1.00]

or, possibly, since nothing really matters anyway,

[rating=10.00]

Assholes is the kind of movie that would probably embrace a single-star rating as much as it would a ten-star rating, if not more so. A ten-star rating would probably feel pretentious and laughable. With a single star, at least they’d know I got it.

This is a film that either elevates trash to the level of art or debases art to the level of trash. Which route it takes is up to the viewer, though regardless of how you feel about the work, your emotions will probably run along the same lines. Contemptuous disgust, bitter fascination, wonderstruck awe, outrage, adoration. Even those who can’t stomach it (whose members very nearly included myself) can’t deny the intrinsic artistic value of the film.

“Intrinsic artistic value” feels like a weird combination of words to use to describe a film that features debaucherous sex, a beherped dick, a shit demon borne of a woman’s asshole, and two characters who slowly turn into anuses, and yet here we are. On the surface, Assholes feels like the end result of a drunken bet between film students. “I bet you $1000 that you can’t turn a movie with these elements into something with artistic merit.” That’s not the case, of course, but if it were then writer/director Peter Vack would be $1000 richer today.

At this point in my reviews, I usually offer a brief synopsis of what viewers might expect upon walking into the theater. To do so here would to be rob viewers of an indelible part of the experience of Assholes, which is a film best experienced knowing as little as possible about it. What I will say is that it’s a love story, of sorts, starring two young actors, Betsey Brown (Vack’s sister, which seems both mean and gross) and Jack Dunphy as Adah and Aaron, the fart-crossed lovers whose debauchery and excess are followed by the audience.

Brown and Dunphy are (oh god, am I typing this?) delightful in this film that is actually kind of (what the fuck am I saying?) charming. Their collective descent into the moral-less abyss which eventually gives rise to a shit-covered Mephistopheles (played by Eileen Dietz, famous for portraying the face of the demon Pazuzu in The Exorcist) is beautifully madcap and surprisingly nuanced. Both performers have a background in theater, and that’s displayed here quite often, with each giving the kind of balls-out “anything can happen” portrayal that can only exist for veterans of the stage.

Equally shocking, perhaps even more shocking than anything else you might witness on the screen, is how incredibly well-written Assholes actually is. Vack has a keen ear for dialogue that’s reminiscent of the early-90s indie-boom. Sure, it often goes absurdly over the top (that’s both a given and an understatement) but the writing is also whip-smart and interesting, which has allowed Vack to use his bombastic premise to explore something about modern life.

Behind the disgusting imagery and subject matter, beneath the scenes of grotesque sexuality, and under the façade of John Watersian shlock is a film that, ultimately, examines the dangers of excess. Which is odd for a film that doesn’t so much push the boundaries of taste as it does ignore that they ever existed, but Vack has managed to weave something emotionally poignant out of a cesspool of depravity.

Equally possible is that he hasn’t, and that my brain forced what meaning it could upon the work in an attempt to justify what I was subjecting myself to. I concede that it is entirely possible that I’m reading entirely too much into a movie that features mutual analingus not just heavily but as a key plot point. Then again, art is subjective, and the fact that one could interpret both nothing or everything from Assholes proves that it is, if nothing else, art.

Whether or not it’s art worth considering, however, is up for some debate. I was repulsed as much as I was intrigued, and there were more than a couple of moments where I wondered if I wasn’t better off just walking away and ignoring the film altogether. I couldn’t though, which itself says something about the nature of the piece. Assholes is often uproariously hilarious and delightfully absurd. It’s also always disgustingly depraved and offensive. Whether or not this is something worth watching is a decision best left to your own mind, though I can guarantee that if you do, regardless of how you end up feeling, whether you’d give it one star or ten, you’ll end up thinking about it and discussing it long after you’ve left the theater. That, in itself, is a special achievement.

Assholes is currently playing in LA and New York, and will be available October 13 on VOD.