Reviews and notes
In high-concept terms, MEET THE FEEBLES
is easily defined: it's The Muppets Go Sleazebag. Aiming to do for the perky world of puppets what Fritz the Cat
did for animation - i.e., overwhelm it with filth, sex and drugs - Peter Jackson's film sets out to be relentlessly, gratuitously offensive. Most of the time, fortunately, it succeeds.
Jackson's previous movie, the live-action Bad Taste
, was a ramshackle SF/horror splatter comedy, blithely tossing in gags and parodies from whatever source came to hand. FEEBLES
is better organised but almost equally eclectic: we get a black-and-white moody torchsong flashback, a 'Nam movie flashback (complete with Russian roulette), and - in the intercutting between Heidi's backstage slaughter and Sebastian's big production number - a parody of the baptism/bloodletting sequence from The Godfather
The massacre rounds off a film in which no excuse for spurting bodily secretions - blood, pus, vomit, or whatever - is passed up. Not all the humour, though, is quite so grossly visceral, and Sebastian, the effete (and, of course, English-accented) director gets several of the best lines. "You mean it's not part of your act?" he asks testily when an Indian contortionist gets his head stuck up his arse. "Pity - we could call it Passage to India
-Philip Kemp, Sight and Sound, May 1992.
Weblink: Review by James Berardinelli
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