Annapurna Sriram beguiles as the writer/director/star of this gonzo-fueled affair
Welcome to Trashtown, USA. Home to all manner of weirdos, miscreants, and deviants. A netherworld seemingly built atop the ruins of its shooting location, Louisiana. One of it’s denizens AP (Annapurna Sriram) has a problem, she’s cursed. Its sensed by not just one, but multiple tarot card readers, and according to each, can only be lifted by a ceremony that’s gonna cost a cool $1000 and involve the sacrifice of a baby lamb. Short on cash, AP falls back to what she knows best, using her body and feminine wiles to ply her trade through the seedy underbelly of the town. She’s joined by her old friend Danni (Sadie Scott) along for the ride to help as she strips and indulges her clients kinks, all before an encounter with a rich man in a luxury house who looks to take the most precious thing she has, just to satiate his own perverse urges.
Fucktoys is undeniably in bad taste, but Sriram’s is exquisite, informing her crafting of this playfully perverse and transgressive feature that marks her triple-threat status as writer, director, and star. The story is inspired by real life events and Tarot card Arcana (specifically the Fool’s Journey), but repurposed to deliver an incisive commentary on class. For all the weird and kinky twists to behold in this alternate world, some things remain unchanged, such as social structure and the enduring squeeze of capitalism. The haves and the have nots remain. For AP, it’s a need to get immediate cash to solve a curse rather than pay for an auto repair or medical bill, but the point remains the same. She’s a service worker, living paycheck to paycheck in a land that caters to the debauched and animalistic urges of the upper class.
A smart and incisive script comes with a smutty edge, but there’s also an enduring sweetness to the film, stemming from the motley crew of characters we meet during AP’s travels, and also from her friendship with Danni. They traverse this land atop a moped, in connective scenes that conjure up misty feelings as their expressions convey hope and determination, even though their next stop might be another setback or involve yet another wanton act.
Fucktoys has a lo-fi but distinct aesthetic. Cinematography from Cory Fraiman-Lott lights up pastel hues and adds a disarming haze to add warmth, burnishing off the rougher edges of the backwater locales. The production design from Nichole McMinn is savvy and effective. In the background we see collapsed building, piles of junk, antiquated technology, and the enduring sight of hazmat teams doing cleanup. It all points to a land hit by some kind of disaster and a minimal amount of effort to help set things right. Despite the neglect, these people endure and eke out survival as best they can, finding comfort and support within their community. A globe-hopping soundtrack adds a further sense of inclusivity and diversity, themes that persist and echo an underlying championing of sex workers, sex positivity, and the trans-community.
There’s a line in the film about AP loving trash, and it speaks to Sriram’s approach. In her aesthetic and vibe, and also in her dedication to telling a story about these downtrodden and exploited castaways of society. The ambition, aesthetic, tone, and larger than life characters bring to mind the films of Meyer, Jarmusch, and most notably Waters. Inspirations for sure, but Sriram’s vision is unquestionably her own, one that evokes the punk spirit of a bygone era of filmmaking. Fucktoys is a joyously gonzo affair that puts to rest the old adage that they don’t make em like they used to.
