You don’t come into a film titled Fuck My Son! unaware of what insanity could possibly lay waiting once the lights go out, and honestly that promise AND the film being at Fantastic Fest is what got me in the door.
But before I go any further what are your thoughts on tentacle porn? And have you ever wanted to see the characters from Nothing But Trouble naked?
Todd Rohal’s Fuck My Son! is the story of a mother (Tipper Newton) and her young daughter who are drugged and kidnapped while out shopping. Their kidnapper is yet another mother, played by Robert Longstreet – who is playing a woman via these Mrs. Doubtfire type prosthetics. She’s on a mission to have her hideously deformed wheelchair bound man-child’s v-card punched. But even before we set eyes on grotesque “little” Fabian (Steve Little), we start to see this film isn’t playing it safe and that’s made it a rather hot topic since it’s screening duing TIFF’s Midnight Madness slot.
The film begins with a nightmarish AI pre-show, and before you anti-AI folks get your pitchforks, It’s meant not just to cheaply evoke The 20 on acid, BUT to comment on the corporate generated slop that’s filling our screens and the soullessness of the multiplex. After the preshow and being notified of the film’s X rating, we then are presented with the Universal Pictures logo. It’s weird what seeing that does, as it’s obvious – A. this film was never put before the ratings board (But I would contribute to a kickstarter to MAKE them watch it) and B. this is definitely NOT a Universal Picture. But seeing that logo does trigger some sort of authenticity check, deep in our cinematic lizard brains.
While the opening’s John Waters inspired peeping tom humor didn’t really phase me with its lascivious hijinks and shocking kidnapping. I knew this film wasn’t fucking around when to intimidate mother into doing the deed, our Mrs. Doubtfire pours boiling water on her daughter, who is locked in a dog crate. That’s where we realize no one and nothing is safe in the surreal space. Director Todd Rohal does however soften the blow ever so slightly, with some humor injected after the fact, by taking us into the mind of the young girl and showing us her hilarious disassociation. This has her interacting with her favorite Youtube cartoon “The Meaty Gang”, a group of religious CGI cartoon characters, whose gimmick is, you guessed it – they are made from lunch meat.
While this isn’t the last time we see their hilarious meaty faces, this is essentially the point of no return.
We then witness the mother and daughter trying to gain their freedom, as their kidnappers continue to escalate the madness and sheer what-the-fuckery around them, that no doubt will be too much for some. Don’t get me wrong, isn’t A Serbian Film by any stretch, but the way these grotesque and terrible situations are played for laughs, will definitely be too much for some – but that’s kinda the point.
What is good art or comedy for that matter that doesn’t elicit a reaction, and a strong one at that? But honestly, with a title like Fuck My Son! – what did you expect? It’s like the fable of the scorpion and the frog.
The loose narrative is more or less a delivery device for this audio/visual declaration of free speech and war on “Good Taste”, that feels like what watching Pink Flamingos in the 1970s probably felt like. It’s not easy, given how our minds have become so desensitized – to actually illicit this kind of pearl clutching in this day and age, but it has had that effect on some. The weird part is you’d think the kind of folks you’d get at these kinds of film festivals, would understand the purpose of this extreme outsider art and get the joke — rather than end up becoming the punchline? But I think that’s Todd Rohal’s divine purpose here, to fuck shit up in cinema and show that films can STILL be dangerous and push boundaries, just with a giant prosthetic tentacle penis.
To be completely honest – I lost my shit, and almost choked laughing more than once, as the film not only manages to push the envelope, but also comment on the contradiction of it all through its existence. Fuck my Son! ultimately is the kind of dirty joke, that’s as smart as it is crass and that’s not easy to do.
