March 18, 2007
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You won't need an urban-to-whitey decoder to appreciate it.Don't you hate it when one of your odorous body parts detaches itself from your person, swells to 800 times its original size and completely destroys a major American city? I don't know about you, but I'm getting pretty sick and tired of this bi-weekly ritual. This scenario has happened to me at least sixty-two times in the last year or two, and the US government is starting to wonder if they should simply put yours truly out of his misery. After all, we can't have some guy's enlarged uvula crushing grandmothers into delightfully sugary wads, now can we? Of course not. Don't be so silly all the time.
Probably the best cinematic representation of those secretly living with this as of yet untitled disease is cult director Mark Pirro's oddball 2004 comedy Rectuma. Granted, there aren't a lot of films that tackle this very sensitive subject, so there's really nothing else on the market to compare it with. A victory by default is still very much a victory if you ask me. Besides, I doubt anyone other than the director of Curse of the Queerwolf could accurately depict the agony, the unbridled suffering of those cursed with this bizarre, socially-devastating affliction. Preach on, Brother Mark. You hold our eyes and ears in complete rapture.
After being anally raped by a demented frog on a sandy beach in Mexico, working class moron Waldo Williams -- portrayed with loving grace by actor/comedian Bill Devlin -- begins experiencing extremely sharp pains in the area of his body where the fudge is produced. According to our hero's finger-licking proctologist, Waldo's forceful amphibian lover deposited a very large blob of poison directly into the poor guy's prostate, causing it to swell to abnormal proportions. Unless he seeks the expertise of a kooky doctor named Wanasamsaki and his ass-obsessed assistant, Waldo should expect to drop dead in no less than three hours.
The treatment prescribed by this jovial anal prober involves in the insertion of nuclear rods into our hero's aching backside. Despite some minor breakage during the procedure, the operation is deemed a smashing success. A few days later, Waldo is shocked to discover an eerie green light emitting from his dysfunctional poop shoot, a discovery that disturbs the guy to his core. What's causing this radioactive emission of energy, you ask? Apparently Waldo was supposed to give himself a daily saltwater enema as a part of the treatment, a detail he flippantly decided to ignore. Big mistake, in more ways than one.
Before you know it, Waldo's posterior is detaching itself from his body and murdering those who would do him great harm. For starters, it wipes out his cheating spouse and her spooge-fearing black lover while its owner sleeps peacefully through the night. Unfortunately for Waldo, his homicidal hump left a calling card in the form of a fecal trail that leads right to his front door. It doesn't take long for the authorities to put turd and turd together, leaving our hero to take the fall for the hideous actions of his angry anus. Can Waldo make everyone believe his outrageous story of bodily horror before it strikes again?
Low brow scatological sarcasm aside, Mark Pirro's Rectuma is one seriously twisted flick. Taking cues from countless Japanese giant monster movies, the veteran writer/director has crafted a unique microbudget comedy that somehow manages to outshine its visibly small budget. That's not to say Rectuma is a nonstop laugh riot that will deftly split your sides and bust your gut, mind you. The film is definitely more surreal than funny, though it does have a few moments of genuine hilarity. It reminded me a lot of Patrick Voss' Inbred Redneck Alien Abduction, another absurd microbudget sci-fi comedy nobody's ever heard of. No offense to those involved, of course. You know I love you.
Mark Pirro's mildly entertaining script is powered by a dedicated cast of nobodies, a take-no-prisoners collective of struggling comedians and starving actors. Though not every joke on the page is a certified crowd pleaser, they certainly do the best with what they're given. Bill Devlin does as a fine job as our hapless hero Waldo, balancing his comic performance precariously between hopelessly stupid and flat-out annoying. Nobody here is ever going to rub elbows with the likes of George Clooney or T. Rigney, of course, but they're certainly not the worst you've ever seen. Huge kudos to all involved.
One aspect of Rectuma that will turn off those unfamiliar with the world of microbudget cinema is the special effects. Great Green Goddess of Greece are they awful. The poor digital composition and fuzzy matte jobs reminded me a lot of those full-motion video adventure games from the early 90's, namely Tex Murphy, Phantasmagoria, Gabriel Knight and the sort. Sometimes they're so poor you can't really tell what you're looking at. If you thought the effects in Eragon were unbelievable, you might want to think long and hard before adding this one to your collection.
If you can handle iffy acting, peculiar musical interludes, lousy special effects, and about 25 billion fart jokes, Rectuma could be your new favorite comedy. Pirro's humor is certainly not for everyone, so you probably shouldn't lend your copy to your friendly neighborhood proctologist. Those who appreciate microbudget comedies and the fine individuals who assemble them will find plenty to enjoy deep inside the bowels of Rectuma's cinematic digestive tract. If nothing else, it will teach you a very important life lesson you can pass on to your grandchildren.
When an Asian man tells you to dip your groin in saltwater, you'd better do it.
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