Tetsuo: Iron Man

By now most of you out there have heard of the Fleshlight, but if you haven't, it's basically a flashlight filled with foam rubber, then dug out in the shape of a vag.  What you do is, you squirt some KY in that bastard, then stick your dick in it and jerk off.  I'm holding out for stem cell research to develop a cod-piece that has an organic pussy in it.  Strap that fucker on, wear it to work, then just throw your hips around a little and voila, cumshot on the sly.  Take it home, douche it out, maybe feed it  a cracker or two, and it's ready for the next day. 

Yes, this is the line of thinking that occurs after watching this movie.

Here's the deal; a guy tries sticking metal into his body, then hits another cat while on a Sunday drive with his girlfriend, then the first cat transforms into a metal/flesh beast and dukes it out with the second cat, the one who he hit with his car.  A lot of "What The Fuck?" mayhem ensues.

Back in '92 (I think), a Premiere magazine had a list of flicks that were making the rounds at festivals and some new videos that had come out, all of the connected by the what-the-fuck factor.  The list looked something like this; El Mariachi, Reservoir Dogs, Bad Lieutenant, Meet the Feebles, Hard Boiled, and Tetsuo: Iron Man.  I made solemn promise to myself that I would watch every one of those fucking movies if it killed me. It damn-near did.

So, at the top of the flick, our hero slashes a nasty, ragged hole in his thigh, then shoves a piece of steel rebar into the gaping wound.  He wraps it up, then unwraps it later, only to be horrified by the maggots crawling around in it.  Yes folks, there's no shortage of subtlety in this one.

Essentially, this is just a horror tone poem about the slow mechanization of the human condition.  It took me reading roughly twenty scholarly articles in Film Comment and Film Quarterly to figure that nugget out.  While you're watching this fucker, you can forget about high-minded criticism.  You'll be lucky to get out with your skull merely fractured.

This one is pure cinema.  A masterful little jaunt that visually and aurally assaults your face like a Kong dick blasting paisley, cotton-candy cum all over you.  The camera work and the images draw you in and hold you down making the whole film feel like a prolonged instance of rubbernecking at a really nasty accident.  One with meat spread out on the road like chunky peanutbutter. And the best part of all?  The cat who made this flick did almost all of it on his own.  Director, writer, lead actor, D.P., make-up effects, camera operator, editor  Shinya Tsukamoto decided he was going to, By-Crom's-Bones, make a fucking movie and so he did.  A Goddamned fierce one to boot.  The images the man got o his 16mm camera (you're welcome, Meredith) land fucking deep, baby.  Metalic zits to drill-bit dicks, I promise the taste of this one will fucking move you.  What?

Get it and love it.

Save Yourselves,

'Nuff Sugar