Candy, an ice-cream scooper and stripper, deals with unwanted attention and an unwanted baby in the messy Sugar Rot, written and directed by Becca Kozak, presented through the Fantasia International Film Festival.
Sugar Rot follows Candy, who sells ice cream during the day and strips at night.
While I can see the film being very polarising (a quick look at Letterboxed as of 1312 on August 1st shows an even mix of 5 and ½ stars), I ended up landing smack in the middle, leaning on the lower end of the scale. I’m a fan of body horror, and Sugar Rot finds plenty in Candy’s ice cream leprosy and the various rips, tears, fluids, and general goopiness. But it’s also a mess (heh, goopy), going against what it seems to be trying to say, with little autonomy or push for cohesion; the type where I know the filmmaker
has a message, but she’s muddled in action, so I’m not sure if what I received was the same that went out. That and the endless sexual assaults.
When I reviewed Occupy Cannes for this festival (published on 8/31), I mentioned how many films try so hard to be Troma but don’t hit the mark. Sugar Rot falls into that category. It’s purposely profane, fuck-you pink punk, and a sense of DIY anything-goes filmmaking. There’s an obvious labor of love to put something together for the change found in the couch. There’s plenty of blood, cum, pus, or mixtures thereof. Where bodies are used, boobs and penis all over, and abused, ripped nipples and penile mutilation galore. And plenty of vomit.
The sort of film where every person is scheezy and unlikable. And the obvious influences of John Waters, Lloyd Kaufman, Russ Meyer, and others, Herschell Gordon Lewis (a character is even named Herschell Gordon to take the point).
But it didn’t land wholly for me. The overall way it came through didn’t sit. Take Candy, our lead, played by Chloe MacLeod. Candy seems to be forceful, out for what she wants, but she’s really under the thumb of everyone. After one of the many rapes in the film, she’s left pregnant with a mutant fetus. It’s turning her into an ice cream monster; parts of her body are transforming into candy colored gobs (in the spirit of the sort of film, very low-rent appliances are used) and falling apart otherwise. Everyone is immediately attracted to her, making her do their bidding with little say. It feels like a backwards feminism. Now I’m writing this as a straight man in his 40s, and this was written, directed, and starring mostly women. That might be wholly on purpose. Losing autonomy against the system, being used and abused by others. It’s a message on how we treat assault victims. But it’s one of those things that doesn’t fully click until sitting down to write this. As the film was playing, it seemed more that Kozak was punishing Candy, not lifting. Sure, start with the abuse, but give her power. Fight back, don’t keep her as a victim.
It’s ultimately a thoroughly unpleasant film, even if taking in the sources (which, again, I enjoy). I wanted to like it. But the fact that I’m so thoroughly ugh on it, even with the aspects I liked, the whole was a chore; going on forever with repetition and “yeah, I get it, can we do something else?” Sugar Rot may work for others, but it wasn’t for me.