Thursday, December 29, 2011

Dead Midgets Review


                ‘Dead Midgets’ is a movie about a particular form of necrophilia. To call it vile, offensive, and obscene is a compliment. I am still in shock about this movie’s premise and its look into the seedy underbelly of the ‘cool kid’ lifestyle. Since I lack any form of hipness I’m better off for it. Besides, now I do not need to drink midget blood to be hip. Though I admit, I am jealous of the close relationship he has with himself on Facebook. I mean, Buttercup McGillicuddy and Stephen Michael McDowell have a nice ring to it. Maybe it is time for Beach Sloth to enter a relationship with…

                Stephen Michael McDowell has better sunglasses than me. He also made a movie. I feel inadequate once I compare myself to this magnificent, Baltimore-based creature. Glad such a cool person lives in my city. Or at least that’s what I thought before I saw the first several seconds of the ‘Dead Midgets’ trailer. 

                In the opening scene we witness Stephen giving the ‘oral lovins’ to a lovely lady. She says stop. He fails at orally satisfying her. She feels disappointment from an inability to get off sexually from his lackluster nether region performance. How bad is the disappointment? She drinks National Bohemian. Drinking National Bohemian is the saddest thing one can possibly do. Perhaps suicide is sadder than drinking National Bohemian, but in a very small way, like suicide is a 100 out of 100 and drinking National Bohemian is a 98 out of 100. Fuck National Bohemian.  

We see all sorts of crazy stuff happen to young, lovable Stephen, his sexy friends, parents, and band mates. Stephen suffers from a directionless life. He is part of some band that does the soundtrack to his life which sounds pretty sweet. A soundtrack to life makes most people happy, but maybe Stephen needs something bigger. Too bad young Stephen suffers from an obsession of self-image, something anonymous bloggers never worry about. 

                He tries to cure this problem. Stephen swings around in an orgy cage and defiles the bodies of midgets. This is the bacchanal. Other people encourage him to search for himself, to find himself just like Siddhartha did, only Siddhartha never looked this good. Siddhartha had a serious self-image problem too. Stephen avoids this fate by swinging around the basement in the orgy cage. He stabs a National Bohemian can, angry at it for taking his girl earlier in the film. 

                By the end of the film, Stephen finds Jesus Christ. Stephen also makes up with the shitty, foul-tasting fluid National Bohemian that barely even counts as a beverage, that worthless can of alcoholic piss. All his friends return. Everything is fantastic.

                I highly recommend this movie for its sheer filth and depravity. I am appalled by Stephen’s sheer gall throughout the movie, though at the same time I want to shake his hand. Hope one day I can do it. 

See the trailer here!

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