A depraved feminine-driven journey through a 16mm dreamscape, Fucktoys loudly announces the arrival of writer/director/lead actress Annapurna Sriram. Expect grimy aesthetics, hilarious cameos, and plenty of bodily fluids—for AP (Sriram), that is just another average day in Trashtown. The mesmerizing cinematography and vignette nature of the narrative structure are accompanied by gross-out humor and hysterical comedy. Sriram’s debut feature has shades of Harmony Korine blended with the campiness of Troma, but by the end, her bold creative vision has morphed into a wholly original flavor of filmmaking. Featuring all the makings of a cult classic, Fucktoys tees up outrageous absurdity wrapped in an oddly poetic cotton candy world.
The fragmented story (if it could even be called that) concerns free spirit AP, who receives seriously concerning news in the opening tarot-reading scene courtesy of gay icon Big Freedia. “Someone cursed the shit out of you,” the first psychic says, and in order to be free of its dark cloud, AP must agree to a thousand-dollar ritual lamb sacrifice. Later, another psychic tells AP almost exactly the same thing. Both psychics have long nails but little else in common; both insist that AP’s curse must be addressed immediately. What follows is a zany road trip movie through the decayed landscape of aptly-named Trashtown. Accompanied by her closest friend, Danni (Sadie Scott, Spoiler Alert, CRSHD), AP pursues every avenue to make the money to break her “curse” once and for all.
As far as the plot goes, that’s just about all we get from that front. Sriram’s script is more concerned with exploring the trashy side of Americana rather than presenting some narrative deep-dive. By eschewing traditional storytelling, the door opens for quirky cameos and outrageous scenarios. Either Danni or AP encounter the following during the film’s zippy runtime: rich weirdos, sex parties, geriatric blowjobs, cocaine overdoses, faux robberies, hallucinations, an artist who will pay to be fisted in the name of his “art,” a sugar daddy DJ, and a dangerous romance with a pretentious limp-dicked mixologist. There appears to be little rhyme or reason in its random scenarios, which precisely encapsulates Fucktoys‘ quirky charm.
Scott and Sriram make for compelling leads for us to follow, particularly as they boldly react to the insanity stretched before them. Almost none of AP’s actions make her a believable character—consequently, it is completely up to Sriram to convince the audience of her ambitions. My favorite of their many encounters are those with The Mechanic (François Arnaud, Midnight Texas, The Borgias) and James Francone (Brandon Flynn, 13 Reasons Why, Hulu’s Hellraiser). Each are sexually-charged and ridiculously over-the-top. Both also serve up commentary on the very concept of art, viewing a trash can as a literal art piece or child-level watercolors being seen as revolutionary. The girls’ time spent with married cheater, Robert (Damian Young, Ozark, Red State), is also hilarious, as he attempts to smuggle them in his basement while his wife and kids mingle upstairs.
Wild, transgressive cinema thrives in an indie space—particularly apt given the types of unique, genre-bending films that screen yearly at South by Southwest Film Festival. The vulgar and frankly disgusting lengths Sriram will go to underline her points will push away a certain subset of viewers, by design. Her darkly hilarious social satire on sex, power, and desperation taps into chaotic filth in a way that few comedies are equipped to execute. Make no mistake, this will be a love-it-or-hate-it type experience, with very little wiggle room in the middle. When you dial into the wavelength of this wildly unpredictable joy ride, the raw power of its surreal kaleidoscope of characters and disparate moments will go down easy. In the words of AP herself, “I love trash.”
Fucktoys premiered at 2025’s SXSW Film and TV Festival.
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