Banjo (2015)
Howard Gorman
|
Starring James Hamer-Morton, Damian Morter, Dani Thompson
Directed by Liam Regan
Those with a particular penchant for Troma’s puerile schlockbusters should find Regan’s Banjo twanging a familiar and delectable tune. Virtually breastfed on the entire Troma back catalogue, and having recently worked with Lloyd Kaufman on Return to Nuke ‘Em High, it comes as no surprise just how much this first-time helmer blazons his indubitable affection for his mentor – heck, there’s even a Kaufman cameo of approval therein.
Starting life as the short film “Confessions of Peltzer,” the concept for Banjo came to Regan – hold on to your helmets – when he accidentally snapped his own frenulum. That might sound like a pretty limp foundation for a feature-length narrative but, in its own campy way, Banjo generally succeeds in fusing Troma’s emblematic brash humor with a revenge thriller to create a sickly sweet package. Lest we forget the icky sticky carnage that no bath salts could even begin to soothe.
Meet hapless Peltzer Arbuckle (Hamer-Morton), drudging in his own self-pity and putting up with all kinds of torment at the office. If that wasn’t enough, he’s only gone and got himself tangled up in the most bizarre love pentagon in cinematic history. And then the coup de grâce comes when the most sensitive part of his “best friend” snaps mid-mating to unleash his long-repressed imaginary friend, Ronnie, who embarks on a binge of soul-shattering mayhem to “help” balance the scales.
Each supporting actor is just as quintessential as the next but it’s all purposely paradoxical and the amateur melodramatics are fully in league with the film’s lifeblood. Most players put in solid, albeit spurious performances; and Regan’s unhinged script largely works, although those less familiar with Troma territory might find themselves befuddled by some of the more sugar-coated, cheesier exchanges. A nice addition to the cast is Laurence R. Harvey in a smaller role, playing pretty much the only straight-faced character in the film.
Banjo‘s biggest appeal, though, is the kinetic chemistry shared by Peltzer and Ronnie, the latter best described as Bruce Campbell acting in the style of Drop Dead Fred whilst incredibly well-versed in the one-liners of Freddy Krueger. Morter strikes a perfect balance, and as nefariously sinister as he may be, his witty outbursts will have the audience in fits. For all its merits, however, I couldn’t help feeling that Ronnie didn’t get quite as much screen time as he probably deserved and that Regan could have squeezed a decent amount of extra mileage out of his kooky antics.
Banjo is definitely in it for the gross-out factor too, and Regan couldn’t have chosen more wisely than to work with Paul While when it came to the practical effects. While provides a real Yagher/Savini aesthetic, and the prosthetics and splurges of every conceivable bodily fluid will have you cross-legged and in stitches, quite literally. The whole Troma vibe is further enhanced with Kurt Dirt’s simplistic soundscape, and it was an inspired touch to have old and new technologies collide to create an even wackier backdrop. Were cell phones really that huge?
Yes, it’s another of those condemned-to-polarize films that requires you to switch off the old gray matter along with your cell phones as you take your seats, but those well-versed in Troma’s trajectory won’t be capable of wiping that great big cheeky grin off their mugs. It might not be a perfect riff on its Troma brethren, but Regan has laid down some pretty sturdy foundations for a pinky-promising career, and his plans to follow Banjo up with a black comedy rape revenge has me intrigued, to say the absolute least.
-
Film
Categorized:Reviews
