Combining my misguided adoration for undrinkable liquids, spray paint-fueled road movies, women in prison flicks, public handjobs and prompt necrophilia, Freeway II: Confessions of a Trickbaby is another in a long line of films that seem to exist solely as nourishment for my increasingly debased cinematic desires and suspect proclivities. An extremely brash follow-up to the first chapter's skewered take on Little Red Riding Hood, writer-director Matthew Bright (Forbidden Zone) sets his cockeyed sights on the fairytale Hänsel und Gretel. Of course, I don't know much about the Germanic yarn beyond the title (and the non-German industrial duo - Hanzel und Gretyl), but I was able to pick out little details here and there. Like, for instance, a trail of crack cocaine replaces the classic trail of breadcrumbs, and the old witch is now a Mexican nun who may or may not have one of Vincent Gallo's penises positioned as her primary penis. In any case, prior knowledge of the original source material is completely unnecessary. Sure, it may give the thinkers in the audience a smug sense of satisfaction, but this film is more about not puking on the pussies of other people, than it is about children lost in a forest. An exquisite tribute to induced vomiting and the vaginal expanse, the film is a touchingly funny tale of a friendship between two young fugitives who love to barf and eat pussy. It's true, that the so-called "strange dick" referred to in the first film is fraudulently chased to a certain extent–especially when the action ends up in Tijuana, where lots of strange dick is not consumed. But its main mission is to follow White Girl (Natasha Lyonne) and Cyclona (María Celedonio) as they make their way through the unkind morass that is modern society.
The toilet bowl-loving White Girl just wants to find a quiet place to honk chunks in peace, while the psychopathic Cyclona desperately wants something, anything, to prod her melted candle in a loving manner. However, both their destinies seem to involve Sister Gomez (Vincent Gallo), a Mexican nun who Cyclona thinks can cure her of her "angry demon" (she likes to murder people and then have sex with them). White Girl, on the other hand, could stand to get ride of her "hungry demon" (she suffers from an profound case of Bulimia nervosa).
Bragging about the blondeness of her pubic region as if it were second nature, and exaggerating about the scrumptious flavour of the wet contents underneath her lightly shaded follicles like a seasoned professional ("It tastes just like candy"), Natasha Lyonne is a deranged angel in thigh-high hooker boots sent froth from some sort of magic kingdom of sleaziness to quell the aching souls of reprobates the world over.
Appearing bored and sounding more deadpan than usual, the oddly attractive actress is easy to connect with, not only because she would date you, but because her indifference seems sincere. The genuine nonchalance causes her to unwittingly ooze a rare form sex appeal, the kind that goes beyond the surface and comes at you on a more glandular level. And by repeatedly putting herself out there, Natasha makes White Girl seem like the ultimate accidental heroine.
Attacking the film's raunchy and slightly inappropriate dialogue with an elegant ease, María Celedonio's Mink Stole-esque performance is a deranged work of art. Always masturbating, and always advocating the wonders of female-owned genitalia, the svelte actress promotes her unhinged character's ludicrous philosophy with a truckload of gusto.
The sheer amount of reprehensible behaviour that Cyclona engages in during this film was shocking, yes, but somehow María managed to make her likable. Maybe it was her heartfelt enthusiasm for girl brisket, or maybe it was the manner in which unabashedly fed her addiction to spray paint. Well, what ever it was, María turned a serial killing necrophiliac into someone who looked adorable while prancing around Tijuana to the music of Juliana Hatfield and Veruca Salt.
The fact that Vincent Gallo's Sister Gomez, an androgynous spiritual leader, isn't the strangest character in the film is a testament to María's commitment to Matthew Bright's off-kilter fixations. However, that's not to say that Gallo is by any means sane. On the contrary, his performance is still pretty messed up. It's just that we've spent over hour with a paint huffing pussy fiend, and our tolerance for weird has become quite hardened. Which is pretty good way of summing up the experience of watching this film. Only difference being, I'm always hardened. In that, I possess the courage of a nail that is about to be struck.
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