“I love trash!” AP (Annapurna Sriram) exclaims upon seeing a waste receptacle in the multimillion dollar home of one of her clients (Francois Arnaud) in “Fucktoys,” a film that’s more provocative than the profanity in its title when it so readily summons a world that has left so many behind. AP would be among them if she were a little less resourceful or less optimistic, but rather than give in to the oblivion that surrounds her as her generation faces dual environmental and economic crises with few average jobs to come by, the world’s oldest profession has given her entrée to a hillside mansion complete with an infinity pool where its owner’s prized possession – the trash can – is artfully presented in a corner as if to remind himself of more innocent times. Beyond the fact that someone could probably get away with this exact same set-up at the Whitney is an amusing punchline, the idea that getting down and dirty might be the best way to look at the culture right now is what makes Sriram’s cross-country adventure quite worthwhile.
You won’t be surprised that a lot in “Fucktoys” is in very poor taste, but Sriram’s judgement as a filmmaker is beyond reproach, giving audiences something to hang onto at all times as AP rides her modest moped from one place to another with her life going off the rails. Floating somewhere between Anna Biller’s loving swinging ‘60s homage “The Love Witch” and Evan Glodell’s apocalyptic “Bellflower,” the film starts out in the swamp where AP has learned that she has somehow contracted a curse from a psychic (Big Freedia) and is told that it can probably be lifted for $1000 with a ceremony involving the slaughter of a baby goat. Given her line of work, AP isn’t the type to ask questions in general and she’d love to rid herself of the bad juju around her as she starts to negotiate a breakup with her boyfriend, so she starts taking odd jobs in the most literal sense of the term, asked to do unspeakable sexual activities that Sriram gleefully puts up on screen to stress their absurdity. One particular house call leads her to reunite with her old friend Danni (Sadie Scott), who is fighting for cash in another area of the dilapidated abode, and when they learn they could get paid for humiliating men to satisfy their fetishes, they are more than willing to join AP for the ride.
Sriram cleverly subverts a seemingly cliched scene of the two cruising through America with their arms spread out like wings as cheery pop music plays in the background, but in “Fucktoys” that road leads to nowhere fast when every stop is some den of depravity where people act on their darkest impulses when little matters and people feel as if they have no value. The writer/director’s savviness is evident from the opening credits when an unraveling social fabric has physically manifested itself in the mangled metal alongside the highway, likely filmed in spots where there had just been a hurricane — or perhaps had such damage a while back and nobody’s still bothered to clean it up. There is an ever-present dude in a hazmat suit around with a broom in the world Sriram creates, but relegated to the background as is Nichole McMinn‘s shrewd production design where piles of discarded computer monitors or vacated picture frames in a house mark the detritus of past civilization, the rot subtly evolves from the structural to the spiritual. A film like this can generally be undermined by a nasty streak or actors whose mere willingness to be in such a transgressive film can land them the part, but Sriram is constantly getting more than commitment from a game cast including herself as well as Scott and Damian Young as an overly generous John named Robert, and there’s a playful quality that overrides the ick factor. Indeed, both on screen and off Sriram shows a genuine affection for trash when you could easily see this landing on John Waters’ year-end best list, but ends up mining it for gold.
“Fucktoys” will screen again at SXSW on March 11th at 9:15 pm at Alamo Lamar 9 and March 15th at 6 pm at Alamo Lamar 8.