The mark of any great studio or prolific filmmaker is the voices they uplift. James Wan handed the keys over to multiple Conjurverse filmmakers, Jordan Peele started Monkeypaw Productions, and Lloyd Kaufman can call James Gunn, the South Park boys, and other now-famous Hollywood celebrities Troma alums. The best ideas sometimes just need financial backing […]
The mark of any great studio or prolific filmmaker is the voices they uplift. James Wan handed the keys over to multiple Conjurverse filmmakers, Jordan Peele started Monkeypaw Productions, and Lloyd Kaufman can call James Gunn, the South Park boys, and other now-famous Hollywood celebrities Troma alums. The best ideas sometimes just need financial backing and a believer, which brings us to the best Troma movie released in many, many years: Mutant Blast. Kaufman and Michael Herz gave Portuguese writer, director, and editor Fernando Alle everything he needed to bring his madcap midnighter to life (er, within Troma means), and they were rewarded with a deliriously enjoyable slice of absurdist storytelling that embodies Troma’s down, dirty, and deranged signatures.
Any summarization of Mutant Blast will make you sound like an asylum patient. It’s unquestionably unique and bullishly original. It’s a Terminator riff until it isn’t. The word “z*mbie” is bleeped out until characters finally admit, yeah, it’s sorta a zombie flick. Actor João Vilas plays “Jean-Pierre” (the human-sized French lobster in a business suit who can talk), “Goblin,” “Zombie Head,” “Yellow Mutant,” and “Rat-hand” all in the same movie. There’s political commentary à la The Return of the Living Dead, dolphin-men with katanas, and ooey-gooey goop by the bucketful. The film marches to the beat of its own drum, in a parade led by the Toxic Avenger.
The gist is this: an incompetent military cell accidentally creates a wasteland doomsday. Our protagonist, Pedro (Pedro Barão Dias), wakes up hungover after a house party with a penis drawn on his face. While trying to piece together the night’s festivities, he realizes there was a zombie outbreak. Enter Maria (Maria Leite): a tough-as-nails soldier tasked with babysitting her company’s superhuman TS-347 experiment (Joaquim Guerreiro) and, eventually, Pedro’s reluctant escort. Together, they traverse lands covered with everything from traditional zombies to gargantuan rats with acidic milk squirters. They meet friends along the way (the romantic crustacean Jean-Pierre), and fight lab-generated enemies sent by the military cell.
It’s the end of the world, and while Pedro might not feel fine, he’s having a blast anyway—because nuclear blasts transform any survivors into mutants.
Mutant Blast is, without a doubt, the holy grail of lunacy. It’s Troma-coded in the ways that Pedro and Maria encounter increasingly batshit obstacles that don’t necessarily make sense, but that doesn’t matter. Alle has that special kind of control over madness that makes the ride so damn addictive, even if our guiding vehicle goes off the rails every few minutes. That’s what Troma does best after all these years, and what makes Mutant Blast such a standout success in their catalog. Kaufman’s niche filmmaking has spanned decades of independent oddities, but his antics now come with expectations (cemented by data). Alle is paying homage to his producers, yet it’s clearly his voice and vision with no attached preconceptions.
Alle blankets his film in satirization, whether that’s the moronic overlords who cause the apocalypse or tropes that are roasted over a spit. In how Tromaville has become a bizarro portrait of American follies, Mutant Blast openly mocks officials and corporate stooges who “accidentally” launch 10 nuclear bombs without accountability. Then you have the “will they, won’t they” jokes about Pedro and Maria, centering on how Maria has no lustful interest in her tagalong despite his scattered attempts. This isn’t your typical survival horror film where trauma bonds breed romance, nor does Alle care to sugarcoat his societal commentaries. That’s not the point of exploitation cinema or off-the-lease midnighters. Subtlety is for Sundance premieres and A24 movies—Alle’s here to ruffle feathers.
That said, he does so with more tact and deftness than what Troma’s recently concocted in-house with their regular team. Something like Shakespeare’s Shitstorm pushes boundaries with a brand of immaturity that’s doing so for cheap kicks. Mutant Blast is fun-loving and sweethearted as characters trudge through bloody puddles of guts, keeping its obscenities good-natured. Sure, Pedro pushes a joke too far when describing radioactive bukkake, but he’s immediately shamed. There are repercussions for such juvenility in Mutant Blast, where Troma’s other contemporary releases can feel like they’re pushing buttons in bad faith, like a 5-year-old that just learned their first curse word, who renders the shock value impotent.
Perhaps that’s what makes Mutant Blast so enjoyable. It’s a crude, bloodthirsty gorefest best described by film critic Rob Hunter as if “Astron-6 and a young Peter Jacker had a kick-ass baby”—but you feel icky. Combat boots squish undead heads like they’re rotten pumpkins, and yet there’s a wholesomeness to certain elements. The way Jean-Pierre pines over his wife, the most beautiful lobster in all the reef, or Maria and Pedro’s friendship, which becomes that of a charming zombie-hunting duo. Characters keep one another in check while having their laughs, while splatterfest exaggerations still retain moral decorum (to a degree). It’s a movie with heart, even if Alle rips it out and uses it as a prop to be smashed into a pulpy gunk.
Speaking of grotesque visuals, there’s no shortage of the gnarly stuff. Special Make-Up Effects Supervisor João Rapaz keeps things juicy whenever violence is at a premium. We’re talkin’ sloppy face melts like a popsicle on hot pavement, decapitations during fantasy-folklore swordplay dreams, and plenty of other inventive ways to brutalize a human body. There’s also an adorable ratty hand-puppet designed by creative consultant Adrián Cardona that Pedro wears for a bit, because a literal rat explodes out of his palm as a surprise mutation. Then you’ve got full(ish)-body costumes of Jean-Pierre (working claws and all), Dolphinman (in his acid-washed jeans), and a towering mother rat that took three whole crew members to operate. Paper mache, styrofoam, and other arts supplies are used to bring forth freakish end-of-days wanderers, all of which have that Troma-approved nonsense aura that works in their low-budget appearances.
Most of all, you can tell Mutant Blast is a labor of love for everyone involved. When the film ends, it doesn’t say “Directed by Fernando Alle” or a sole credit. The text reads “A Film By,” and then seventeen names. Alle’s acknowledgement of everyone involved is indicative of a leader who empowers his cast and crew, which fits the vibe of what’s on screen. Everyone is having a grand ol’ time and brings their sincerest A-game. This might be the most absurd Portuguese horror film ever released, but it’s hardly phoned in. Performances are rock-solid, storytelling keeps a steady pace, and effects will bring a smile to your face. You won’t catch elements lacking, despite how specific props—like a doodie-coated-looking duck abomination—are probably held together with duct tape.
Mutant Blast doesn’t just know the type of kitchen-sink weirdo flick it is—it’s loud and proud about every frame. With all due respect, Alle does Troma better than his mentors. His special effects background on films like Return to Nuke’ Em High Volume 1 and Return to Return to Nuke’ Em Highaka Vol. 2 translates into a showcase for strange tales about altered dystopian states. Every scene there’s a new curveball, and they’re all worth a smile.
The Troma brand is alive and well in the hands of filmmakers like Alle, who evolve an addictive style of underground horror filmmaking with a newly minted and freshly reinvigorated appeal.
Troma returns to the big screen with The Toxic Avenger only in theaters on August 29!
