If you thought that rape, necrophilia or chopping some guy’s dick off for an impromptu game of catch on a lovely summer afternoon could never be portrayed as mere light-hearted high jinks, then you obviously haven’t seen Street Trash – where any foul act of depravity can be capitalised on for laughs as long as there’s a zany sound track playing. PTSD? A riot! Gang rape? Fucking hilarious! Casual murder? A god damned hoot! You’ll come for the tasteless violence, but you’ll stay for the exploding hobos.
STREET TRASH (1987)
Genre: Comedy/ Horror
Director: Jim Muro
Buy the blu-ray
A tenuous thread draws together the lives of a handful of degenerates eking out a living in Manhattan, although given that the majority of the characters are crazy bums, this mainly involves trying to lay their hands on a bottle of anything strong enough to commit mass brain cell genocide.
A deranged cop begins his hunt of an even more deranged vagrant suffering from PTSD, who after being dishonourably discharged from Vietnam for drug running, has set up a tiny, grubby kingdom in a junkyard where he rules with an iron fist and a dagger made of a human femur bone. After the disgraced veteran Bronson smashes a nerd’s head through the wind shield of his own car in broad daylight, the cops get an inkling that he might be a teensy bit doolally and set out to shut him down.
Meanwhile, hobo Fred steals a bottle of highly suspect looking liquor that the dim-witted shop keep found in a hidden compartment in the basement of his own store. Seriously, the guy’s poking around down there like it’s Hangar 51 and has no idea what or where anything is. Where does he keep his excess stock? Did he just wander in from the street and decide to set up shop? In all likelihood, yes, because after finding the 60 year old stash amidst a cocoon of cobwebs, he hauls the musty crate upstairs and starts selling them.
Luckily for Fred, one of his street pals nabs the bottle of Tenafly Viper he worked so hard to procure and as such, narrowly avoids a messy but wonderfully vibrant death. The hapless hobo that suffered this fate is shown moments before his demise, kicking back in his ceramic throne and a few pained screams and a haphazard homage to Raimi’s Evil Dead camera work later and a sad looking pile of gloop is all that’s left of our pungent friend.
Fred lucks out again that night when he picks up a mobster’s drunken girlfriend and our hobo with a heart of gold takes her back to the junkyard, has his fun and tosses her to the rabid lunatics outside to rape and murder. That Fred! Always getting into mischief! The morning after, just as the fat junkyard owner is getting over the unsuccessful rape of his secretary with the corpse of the aforementioned sozzled Suzan, Fred finds himself pursued by both Bronson and the mob. Bronson’s shake down is put on hold for the big game of dick ball and the hit man from the mob is beaten to death by Bill the bent Bobby who celebrates his victory in combat by barfing all over him.
Up until this point, exploding hobos have been pretty thin on the ground but it’s guts galore from here on out. After a particularly trying day, Fred heads back to the trusty liquor store to finally pick up a bottle of that sweet Tenafly Viper and redeems himself ever so lightly with the following exchange:
Fred is awash in a sea of gloriously garish innards as bums begin bursting all around him. Will Fred finally get his comeuppance or will he survive to carry on being a giant dick with no real repercussions whatsoever? And what ever happened to those mobsters…? Find out in Street Trash.
We dare you to buy Street Trash on blu-ray!
Author Gamer Girl is a podcast co-host on FrontTowardsGamer Radio. It is highly recommended you follow her on Twitter.
Previously in Poison Popcorn: Lifeforce. See previous Poison Popcorns right fucking here!