A couple of assumptions can be made when a movie has a title like Fuck My Son! The most obvious one is that the title also serves as the film’s entire premise. The second is that it’s probably going to be a raunchy, tasteless, and chaotic affair. Writer-director Todd Rohal’s (The Catechism Cataclysm, Uncle Kent 2) adaptation of Johnny Ryan’s comic of the same name meets both of those expectations. However, it starts out with an unexpected amount of promise before hitting the slippery slope that leads to an unforgettable but underwhelming experience for the audience. 

WTF?!

Fuck My Son! starts off with a scuzzy charm that makes you think it might just surprise you. It gives the audience a cute intro (although it looks like AI was heavily utilized) and explains how to use the Perv-O-Vision and Nude Blok glasses that the audience was given on the way in. This is obviously a ploy to throw some naked people on screen and rip the X-rated band-aid off early. While this bit lasted too long, I appreciated having peen on a big screen. As someone who yells into a podcast microphone a few times a year, “I want to see a pair of testies for every pair of breasties,” I appreciated a filmmaker having the balls to have balls on screen. 

We soon meet Sandi (Tipper Newton) and her kid, Bernice (Kynzie Colmery), as they are shopping. They have a run-in with a nameless pervert that feels like Rohal might be going for a John Waters kind of sleaze. While having a heart-to-heart about good people versus bad people, they notice an older woman, Vermina (Robert Longstreet), needing assistance. They do not know that this old lady dressed like Mama from Mama’s Family has set a trap for the woman. This soon leads them to a home where Vermina explains that Sandi will have to fuck her son if she doesn’t want anything bad to happen to her or her daughter. To make this situation more twisted, her son, Fabian (Steve Little), is a mutant with a mutant dick (once it’s finally found).

We Also Feel A Little Trapped

What comes next is a lot of gross-out humor, repetitive jokes, and the fairly predictable escape to only be brought right back to their tormentors. Fuck My Son! loses all of the goodwill (and steam) we had as it stretches this premise well past the breaking point. There are a few more jokes that land as Sandi and Vermina square off, but not enough to stop the movie from overstaying its welcome. That being said, Tipper Newton understood the assignment and had a standout performance worth noting. She is still compelling enough around the forty-minute stretch when it becomes clear this movie didn’t need to be a feature film.

Fuck My Son! Tries to stitch a lot of things together that never really add up. For example, Bernice’s meat friends (the animated meat also gives AI), who visit her in times of distress. The movie also never addresses whether Vermina is being played by a male actor for an actual reason. No one is going to see Fuck My Son! for social commentary, and Longstreet does earn a couple of chuckles. However, it feels like another attempt at what passed for humor decades ago rather than putting drag on the big screen with a purpose. This could also be something that I just overthought once the movie lost its way. Much like I wondered why this old lady would have pads on hand when she is well past the point of having a period.

We Used to Be A Society

Some of these gripes could be partly explained by Fuck My Son! wanting to stay closer to the source material than it should for modern audiences. However, the issue of running a joke into the ground is pervasive throughout the movie. Even before it starts reaching for anything that could be even slightly offensive and makes its way to rape jokes and multiple endings. It makes for an overall frustrating experience because we want filmmakers to do something unique and take chances. Just not like this.

Many of us also have a soft spot for sleazy movies from the 1970s and 1980s. I was one of the last people to discover the charming chaos of Frank Henenlotter’s Basket Case and Frankenhooker. So, I know scuzzy cinema can work, and it can be fun. However, Fuck My Son! is a one-and-done instead of a title that will stand the test of time. It’s a movie you can toss on to laugh at with friends before it becomes background noise. It’s not one that most of us are going to demand a physical release of. Or want to revisit again. 

As a recovering theater kid who supports women’s rights and wrongs, I think Dead Lover is an interesting experiment. It feels like a sketch group has taken over a Black Box theater, and during the Q&A at TIFF, it was confirmed that that was the case. This leads to quite a bit of laughter and a few cheers as you invest in the ridiculousness of this world. Which is great for a movie premiering its Stink-O-Vision at a prestigious festival. However, what stands out the most for me are the themes of longing and basic human desire.

A Smell To Remember

Dead Lover introduces us to a lonely and smelly gravedigger who dreams of being loved. One night, her wish comes true as she saves a man who seems intoxicated by her pungent scent. However, like all gothic romances, theirs is doomed. Her lover dies at sea, leaving the gravedigger upset and alone again, as all that’s left of the man she loved is his finger. This propels her to turn to science to see if she can bring her lover back from the dead using his sole digit. This obviously causes chaos because, as all horror fans know, sometimes things are better left dead.

Director, co-writer, and our leading smelly gravedigger lady, Grace Glowicki, puts forth a world that allows women to be gross. However, unlike most cinema, Dead Lover knows the nauseating and uncouth lead still deserves love. There is no She’s All That makeover or a montage of her learning how to be a lady. This movie gets that people are people, women can be many things, and our dreams should not hinge on how society perceives us. Between the jokes, this film touches on yearning for the life you deserve. While Glowicki’s character yearning leads her to love, the sentiment can be applied to anything. She just happens to think her place in the world is beside the dead love of her short life. 

It’s The Ensemble for Me

In addition to Glowicki, Leah Doz, Lowen Morrow, and Ben Petrie (who also co-wrote the script) take turns playing an array of zany characters. This allows the world to feel fuller, even if it’s the same two stages reused with the same four actors. It also guarantees the team a dedicated playground to make an impression. Everyone gets at least one character so bizarre that they feel like the MVP of the film. At least until the next one is introduced.

The small ensemble of four performers tackling all the roles is committed to their bits and having fun. This allows Dead Lover to reach for some silly highs and some ridiculous lows as they move through these characters at a fairly rapid speed. This results in more of a Mel Brooks and Gene Wilder energy (with modern sensibilities). Which isn’t something most of us would expect from a body horror comedy.

If you are in the mood for a likable sketch troupe exploring gothic expressionism, then this is your movie. You might even find yourself charmed by the style choices and improv vibes if you’re a theater person.