Some films are made to win awards. Others are made to leave audiences scratching their heads and wondering what on earth they have just watched. Killer Thong firmly belongs in the latter category. A comedy horror about a murderous leopard print thong sounds like the sort of idea dreamt up after a late night drinking session, and writer-directors Reno Anastasio and Shawn Doucette never pretend otherwise. This is proudly absurd, proudly cheap and proudly committed to its bizarre premise.
The film opens with birthday girl Alex (Rebecca Ambrosino) descending the stairs to what is supposedly a surprise party. The soundtrack erupts with cheers and applause, although the room itself contains only a handful of people, making the enthusiastic crowd noise unintentionally amusing. The entertainment arrives in the form of two ageing male strippers, Cashier (Shawn Doucette) and Old-Timer (Junior Lirette), who perform in little more than leopard print thongs. Before long, the title card appears, letting audiences know exactly what sort of experience they have signed up for.
Following the party, Alex and a friend head shopping, where they encounter an unsettling shop assistant. After joking about some leopard print underwear on display, events take an increasingly surreal turn as a leopard print thong seemingly develops a life of its own. From this point onwards, Killer Thong abandons any interest in logic and instead embraces dreamlike imagery, strange editing techniques and repeated snippets of dialogue that echo throughout the film. At one point the audience is even treated to the thong’s point of view as it stalks its victims.
Much of the film unfolds like a fever dream. Alex slips into a bizarre nightmare where the possessed thong begins terrorising her friends in increasingly ridiculous fashion. Rather than attempting to explain every plot point, the screenplay seems content to throw one strange visual after another at the audience. Whether the thong is possessed, supernatural or simply a manifestation of Alex’s subconscious is left deliberately vague. It is clear that making perfect narrative sense is far less important than generating laughs through sheer absurdity.
Stylistically, Killer Thong feels heavily inspired by low budget direct-to-video horror films from the 1980s. Everything from the rough cinematography and practical effects to the editing style and deliberately exaggerated performances evokes the sort of cult oddity that might once have gathered dust on a VHS shelf. The visual effects are intentionally old fashioned, with crackling electricity, floating objects and obvious compositing adding to the retro aesthetic rather than attempting realism.
That aesthetic extends to the production values as a whole. This is undeniably a micro-budget production and it often shows. Some of the framing feels awkward, dialogue delivery can be inconsistent and certain scenes outstay their welcome. Repeated lines such as “Super sexy” or “Put her to sleep” quickly become overused, while several surreal sequences continue longer than necessary. A tighter edit would almost certainly have improved the pacing.
Even so, there is something oddly infectious about the film’s commitment to its own ridiculous concept. Reno Anastasio clearly understands exactly what kind of movie he wants to make and never attempts to elevate it into something more respectable. Instead, he doubles down on every strange idea. The result is a film that often feels closer to an experimental comedy sketch than a conventional horror movie.
There are several genuinely inventive moments scattered throughout. One sequence involving Edvard Munch’s famous painting The Scream takes an unexpectedly bizarre turn and ranks among the film’s funniest visual gags. Another memorable scene transforms an ordinary household blender into something horror fans are unlikely to look at in quite the same way again. These moments demonstrate a willingness to embrace creativity, even when the execution occasionally falls short.
Beneath the insanity, there is also an attempt to tell a coming of age story centred on Alex. As the film progresses, it gradually explores her uncertainty surrounding her sexuality, using the surreal horror elements as a metaphor for self acceptance. The theme is never handled with great subtlety, but it gives the narrative something to build towards beyond simply watching a floating thong attack people. The social commentary will not resonate with everyone, but it does provide more substance than the title initially suggests.
Rebecca Ambrosino does well as Alex, grounding the increasingly ludicrous events with an earnest performance. Shawn Doucette and Junior Lirette throw themselves wholeheartedly into their exaggerated stripper roles, fully embracing the cartoonish humour required. Jennifer Campbell, Cynthia Taylor and Lalesha Railsback also understand the tone, never playing the material with complete seriousness.
For all its faults, Killer Thong remains surprisingly entertaining simply because it refuses to play by any conventional rules. Horror fans familiar with films such as Rubber, about a killer tyre, will immediately understand the type of experience on offer here. Logic is irrelevant. Taste is optional. The only real requirement is a willingness to surrender to ninety minutes of complete nonsense.
That does not mean the film works all the time. The pacing frequently drifts, some jokes are repeated until they lose their impact, and the technical shortcomings are impossible to ignore. Those expecting polished cinematography, strong performances and a tightly constructed screenplay will almost certainly be disappointed.
However, viewers approaching Killer Thong as a midnight movie with friends may have a very different experience. This is exactly the sort of film that thrives with a lively audience, plenty of laughter and absolutely no expectations of realism. It is unlikely to become a mainstream horror hit, but it could easily develop a following among fans of cult cinema and deliberately outrageous comedy horror.
Killer Thong is weird, cheap, often badly made and frequently baffling. It is also occasionally hilarious, surprisingly imaginative and impossible to accuse of being boring. Not every joke lands and not every creative decision works, but Reno Anastasio deserves credit for committing wholeheartedly to one of the most ridiculous horror concepts of recent years. Sometimes sheer enthusiasm counts for a lot.
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