Trash Humpers

Not a documentary on former lovers of Madonna as it turns out.

Charlatan, visionary, asshole, vanguardist, poseur, artist or fraud?

Harmony Korine may be all of those things, but I sleep better at night knowing he is out there.

And whatever you make of his disturbed, scant cinematic ramblings, you should too.

I find him a untergenius. A filmmaker at the precipice of his time yet doomed to the knowledge that his milieu is vapid and damned. The importance and impact of his films will no doubt wane in retrospect, much like Pasolini's or Jodorowsky's or even (gasp!) Godard's, but he has what Frank Zappa coined "his thumb on it" for the time being - an iconoclast who does not give one flying fuck what anyone thinks of his work - and flaunts that demented aloofness like a weapon against the passive dullards we, as filmgoers, have become.

Despite the resounding, unbearable failure of his 2007 offering Mister Lonely, the bastard has been one of the few writer/directors out there balancing on the uneasy crags of introspection while shedding a glaring light on just what sort of malcontents and freakish fucknuts inhabit the world around us.

Trash Humpers, his latest, began appearing on a lot of "best of 2010" lists a few months ago (although it was a 2009 release) and while it is an astoundingly unique piece of filth, abhorrence and degradation that I cannot easily shake, I would not be hard pressed to come up with ten more enjoyable films from last year. But, fuck me, I drink way too much tequila, masturbate a lot and spend most of my time plotting revenge from the merest slight, so what am I gonna do? Vote for Toy Story 3?

Trash Humpers is the sort of movie (like when seeing a Mike Rothko painting) where your first reaction is, "Well... fuck... I could have done that myself."

But you didn't. And you couldn't. Korine is a functioning troubled mind at work.

And Mike Rothko is a bad example because he's an overrated hack.

But you know what I mean.

It's one of those movies that you simply cannot recommend to anyone, yet it is a film that everyone should be forced to watch (with Clockwork Orange eyelid stents no less) just to bring them out of their linear narrative catatonia. It's difficult, absurd, monotonous, grueling, provocative, boring, sensational, awkward...

It acts as a metaphorical statement on sex, a social commentary on the American South (it was all filmed in Nashville), a treatise on aging, physical disability, alcoholism, violence, consumer-driven throwaway culture and our incessant need to capture our lives (no matter how mundane) on video for posterity. It stars four principals in grotesque, rubber geriatric masks (including Korine and his wife) who fuck dumpsters, trash bins (hence the title), jerk off weeds and trees, destroy discarded appliances, murder some of those they encounter (there's a serial killer theme that's never explained), abide other miscreants, drag tethered baby dolls behind them on bicycles, reprise an old Carter Family tune, drink wine incessantly from the bottle, squeal nonsensical catchphrases, pontificate dimly and befriend a creepy, fat kid in a suit (with a laugh that will echo in your basement prison hell when he ages) who bludgeons a doll with a hammer.

Did I mention it was shot on VHS and blown up to 35mm with all the old camcorder viewfinder commands on full display? Even to the point of intermittent static and rolling tape malfunctions throughout?

Suffice to say, Trash Humpers is a meandering piece of hyper-indulgent bullshit.

Korine is the poor man's Lars Von Trier (he latched on to the Dane's Dogme movement with both claws) but lacks the dramatic know how of his better. If he gave a shit about that, I'd start worrying about the boy. He's got a lot of nerve making a movie like this.

And that's why he's one of the most important filmmakers working right now.

If only to let Todd Solondz know he can suck it.