Hey, everyone. "Moriarty" here with some Rumblings From The Lab.
I can't believe I forget to mention this in my coverage from Fantasia 2001. Yes, I wrote about CITIZEN TOXIE and the attendent madness at the screening, but I forgot to mention THE BIG NEWS. You see, Lloyd Kaufman let slip that there's another Toxie movie in the works as we speak. That's right... next year... prepare yourselves for...
SAVING PRIVATE TOXIE!!
In the meantime, you'll have to make do with this report from Baltimore spy Joe Slutt...
I wouldn’t know if a review of the Baltimore premiere of “Citizen Toxie: The Toxic Avenger IV” qualifies as cool news, but it certainly qualified as the most rousing evening of entertainment that Charm City has seen in quite some time.
Rarely has a Troma production struck such a deep and definitive nerve in its fanbase, especially those that flooded downtown Baltimore to see the film and press the flesh with its producer and director, Lloyd Kaufman. The return of the company’s most obsequious icon was well-received by those looking for an overload of off-color gags and an endless parade of disembowelments and decapitations. There will be those who curse me for even insinuating so, but “Citizen Toxie” is the only film I know of from any sphere of world cinema in the last decade to rival what Peter Jackson accomplished with his landmark goofball epic “Braindead” (aka “Dead Alive”) in terms of pure unadulterated prosthetic goopiness.
The convoluted narrative hinges upon The Toxic Avenger and his “morbidly obese” sidekick Lard-Ass and the events that befall them following their intervention in a violent siege upon the Tromaville School for the Very Special by a gang of diaper-sporting miscreants. When Lard-Ass seemingly saves the day after basting a bomb in peanut butter and eating the damned thing, the resulting intestinal blast allegedly transports Toxie to a parallel world called “Amortville” where an almost-identical super-villain named “The Noxious Offender” reigns over denizens of the metropolis.
Just as Toxie lands in Amortville, “The Noxious Offender” is transported into the Troma universe and mistaken for the titular superhero by his enamored minions. He quickly proceeds to tear the arms off of the chief of police and then hurls a young child to her death, thereby endangering Toxie’s status as a beloved member of the community.
Lost in a world he cannot understand, the Toxic Avenger seeks the advice of a parallel-world Lard-Ass (a destitute physicist who exchanges oral sex for pastries) in his quest to be reunited with his blind and pregnant wife in Tromaville. Also aiding Toxie in his efforts is the talking head of a black man who was dragged along the road to his apparent death by a pick-up truck full of rednecks.
I really wanted to write a thorough-yet-spoiler-free dissection of the plot complications that follow, but the enormous amount of gore, latex effects and celebrity cameos that comprise the all-too-brief running time forces a certain judiciousness in my reportage.
Corey Feldman seems to be thankful for any appearance in front of the camera and this is further evidenced by his expectedly over-the-top and largely unremarkable performance as an OB-GYN who spends more time leering at his nude co-star than concentrating on the cue cards. Ron Jeremy makes the most of his abbreviated screen time as the devout mayor of Tromaville and the one-and-only Lemmy Kilmister provides a confused yet spirited performance as that one guy in every reaction shot. But then again, what sort of criticism could you level against a film that casts Hank the Angry Drunken Dwarf as a benevolent and horny God who presides over a suspiciously underpopulated Heaven?
“Citizen Toxie” represents an assured leap of faith into the abyss for Sir Lloyd and his cohorts. The unrelentingly graphic violence, gleeful sadism and lurid sexuality on display in this film register earlier Troma efforts (such as “Tromeo and Juliet” and “Terror Firmer”) as comparatively reserved. Consider the scene where Toxie castrates a man and then finds inner peace by swishing his testicles around in his palm as if they were magnetic relaxation balls. Another gratuitous sequence features a particularly bosomy starlet who lap-dances a retarded child while his peers are gunned down with assault rifles.
The ever-exuberant Kaufman hosted this screening in a rented limited-capacity wing of the Charles Theatre, which has been expanded into a five-screen art-house-plex since its previous appearance in John Waters’ “Polyester.” As the only independent multi-screen house in Maryland, the Charles Theatre has the freedom to host a 3-D engagement of the John Holmes XXX classic “Disco Dolls” and is currently in the midst of a furious promotion for the Grindhouse re-release of “Cannibal Holocaust.”
When Troma wants to promote an event such as this, they really have no equal in the realm of independent film distribution. Many of the latte-slurping twits that usually clutter most Saturday afternoon matinees at the Charles Theatre were even wooed away from the latest Francis Veber joint by the sheer absurdity of it all.
Later in the evening, Lloyd and the gang hosted a post-premiere party at The Sidebar, a show-club located along a downtown row usually reserved for wimpering emo-rockers. Mohawk-sporting gents rushed to shake Mr. Kaufman’s hand in thanks for the years of grotesque entertainment provided to them. Lloyd’s wife and daughter were also in attendance and chugged beer out of plastic cups while a life-size recreation of the Killer Condom promoted a so-called screening of “Terror Firmer” that was airing on a pair of bar-mounted televisions usually reserved for Orioles games.
Strolling up the street to another club where local costume-rock faves Dingleberry Dynasty were performing a late-night set, the Troma prexy politely declined the advances of a surprisingly insistent groupie with Japanese calligraphy tattooed down her neck. The irony of this business-minded older man, clad in khaki shorts and a Polo shirt, feeling most at home among a collection of punks and piercing-victims was not lost on him or his adoring fans.
You have to hand it to the manpower of Troma, especially whatever guy had to wear that Toxic Avenger outfit for the better part of seven hours. Some misplaced wag made a crack about the brazen stupidity of it all, causing “Toxie” to quickly set his mop aside and threaten to put the outspoken fellow in a headlock. I guess a Saturday evening spent behind a novelty mask would probably bring out the worst in anyone.
I’m Joe Slutt and this was my journey.
