Friday, June 17, 2016

Make "Fortress of Amerikkka" great again?

this shit is not safe for work (and probably life)

John Waters once said, "Get more out of life. See a fucked-up movie." Those are words to live by, my friend.

I've talked before about the purity of these kinds of movies many times. They promise a certain kind of entertainment—usually mindless—and they either deliver it or they don't. Here's one that certainly delivers, but be careful what you wish for. It crosses the line about as far as The Human Centipede sequels did. Early on, a defenseless old man gets drawn between a car and a tree. Later, a terrified child get shot in the back.

Fortress of Amerikkka has a lot in common with Surf Nazis Must Die. They both have sleazy titles, they both have scenes of unbelievable cheese and hilarious action, and they were both distributed by Troma. My only complaint is Surf Nazis Must Die is just a little more fun. Any movie in which the hero is a motorcycle-driving black mama is automatically better than one in which a white man plays a Native American named John Whitecloud.

John Whitecloud. Just... I mean... shit.

one of my favorite cult films of all time

The first thing Whitecloud does upon being released from prison is stock up on guns and ammunition at the local gun store. There he has a run-in with the dirty cop who put him away and killed his brother. The cop tells Whitecloud he better watch his back, a scene every movie like this must include. Incidentally, there's a militia performing training exercises in the surrounding woods. Despite the fact their camp is the size of a small city the authorities can't find them. The villain, who reminds me of Donald Trump trying to "make Amerikkka great again," commands his loyal followers to kill anyone who stumbles upon the location of their camp, which seems to be damn near everyone but the cops. (When I pointed out how hard it would be for a group that large to remain hidden from the police, my friend quipped, "Camouflage, duh!")

These are two very different plots which run parallel for the majority of the movie until, suddenly, they don't. And here's where the confusion comes into play: Why is America spelled with a triple-K? It leads you to believe the militia has ties with the Klan, yet they're the most racially inclusive (and female friendly) group in the entire picture. Although Troma films have been known for attempting subversiveness which tends to be as subtle as a cannonball—and I'm almost inclined to suspect this film is saying something satirical about America itself—I just can't bring myself to believe the guy who directed the first two Class of Nuke'Em High sequels had anything more to say than "violence and boobies, yay!"

The "that's so wrong" factor of this movie is simply stunning. Get a bunch of drunk friends together and you'll probably have a blast. I'd go so far as to say it's one of the wildest Troma films that wasn't produced in-house.

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I'd be remiss if I didn't mention the short film we watched before the feature: Gayniggers from Outer Space. I'm not sure why we ended up watching this particular combination of films (beer was involved), but it was one of the best movie nights I've had in a while. Here's the heartwarming tale of a group of homosexual aliens who decide to rid the earth of women, featuring complex characters named Captain B. Dick and Sergeant Shaved Balls.

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