Spiritual awakening in the scenic byways of western Canada...but only sort of.
Less extreme horror exploitation than a null-budget anarcho-punk statement from identical twin sister auteurs Jen & Sylvia Soska (a.k.a. Twisted Twins), DEAD HOOKER IN A TRUNK is the visual equivalent of lo-fi riot grrrl garage rock—mashing up Robert Rodriguez, Harmony Korine, Nick Zedd, Amos Poe, and Eli Roth, with an occasional whiff of Greg Araki.
The movie has to be taken on its own terms. In keeping with a homage to no wave and grindhouse esthetics, the Soskas apparently consider continuity to be cisgender heteronormative fascism imposed by imperialist capitalist elitism: exterior shots filmed before & after a snowstorm are spliced together; one character's severed limb randomly appears re-attached; it seems that a lead role had to be reinvented on the fly when the actress cast for the part didn't show up on set and the only available substitute was the cameraman. Some viewers can roll with this; others can't.
Still, the script is energetic, brutal, funny, often quite sparkling, albeit the actors mumble and stumble through any dialogue more complicated that "F*&K!"
The plot? There's a dead hooker in the trunk: roll camera and--ACTION!
More specifically: Geek, her severely hungover twin sister Badass, and Badass' equally hungover punk-rawk pal Junkie are giving Geek's friend Goody Two-Shoes a lift home from his Christian youth ministry when, en route, they discover that someone's stashed drugs and a corpse in the boot of Badass' car.
So...call the police? It's not like they had anything to do with it, right? Well, that's another problem--
BADASS: "Last night is really fuzzy..."
Thus the quartet, uncertain whether they're psycho-killers, have to find an informal way to ditch a cadaver in suburban Vancouver in broad daylight in winter--and pious Goody Two-Shoes demands they do so while respecting the dignity of the deceased. Plus, they're all being hunted by the real murderer or murderers.
Complications, mayhem, mutilations, homicides' 'n' hijinx, along with gratuitous everything and a cameo appearance by God, ensue.
It all hangs together—often barely—by dint of the Soska sisters' relentless fan-sensibility attitude.
