[CFF 22 Review] ‘Bitch Ass’ plays by its own demented rules
In the opening of Bill Posley’s Bitch Ass, Tony Todd regales us with a monologue that promises a “hood horror story” in the vein of those that have come before. Or as he puts it: “a nightmarish tale in which the stakes are no less than your very lives!” Playing the omnipotent character of Titus Darq, Todd uses his signature baritone to capture the film’s devilish mood. Channeling hosts like Clarence Williams III and Vincent Price, his presence is as familiar as it is dangerous. Likewise, so is the rest of the film. Along with writing partner Jonathan Colomb, Posley crafts a slasher film whose titular killer (Tunde Laleye) patterns his murders after a series of board games, where each game tests its victim’s capacity for survival.
Set in 1999, Bitch Ass guides its characters through a chaotic environment where a real-life game of Operation is gruesomely attempted, and flipping the table is far from the worst thing to happen after a high-stakes game of Connect Four. When aspiring members of the 6th Street crew plan a home invasion, they unknowingly walk into a powder keg of retribution twenty years in the making. Q (Teon Kelley) reluctantly follows a group of misfits including Cricket (Belle Guillory), Moo (A-F-R-O), and Tuck (Kelsey Caesar) in search of riches that are said to be guarded by the killer and his reclusive grandmother (Sherri L. Walker). Slowly, details of the killer’s life reveal he was the subject of a horrific attack by local bullies. Here is where the fantastic elements of hood horror are reconciled with a crushing realism.
Breaking free of the barebones POV killer mold to humanize Bitch Ass and give him a name (Cecil) is by far the film’s most engaging aspect. Cecil’s mask only covers the top of his face, prominently displaying his scars. His cruelty is designed to reciprocate his old bullies’ malicious actions. Building moralistic spectacles akin to Jigsaw traps seems like an unsatisfactory prospect to Cecil, however. As a result, he is more involved in how the killings play out. And it speaks to how well the cast works through the experimental nature of the script that they can produce moments with Cecil that are ironically hilarious and downright tragic. To say nothing of the relationship Cecil has with his pious, abusive grandmother and the depths Posley is willing to go to flesh out the man’s trauma for all it’s worth. Attempts at juggling serious tones are disrupted by jarring simulated gameplay at times, but Posley never loses sight of his story’s cultural significance.
What the slasher genre misses when it negates predominantly Black, and otherwise non-white, settings is the challenge of drawing horror from a place where people have to survive on the daily. There’s a bleak humor to having awareness of the inadequate institutions around you that makes the idea of a masked killer something to scoff at. Nowhere is this more evident than in the attitude of gang leader Spade (Sheun McKinney). Choice cuts of cynical dialogue include: “robbing old people is fucked up. Do you think I’m a monster?” and “is school putting money in your pocket?” Meanwhile, most of the core group approaches the possibility of their own deaths with a hearty defiance. Characterization like this is what pushes the film from being mere homage to the real deal. And though it is closely bonded to its exploitation film roots, the technical innovations in Bitch Ass should not be overlooked.
The film wears its influences lovingly on its sleeve. From ‘70s visual references to Dean Cundey’s evocative, theatrical lighting, to a minimalist synth score, the film is true to the spirit of late ‘70s low-budget genre mavericks. Not content to just be flagrant Carpenter-sploitation, however, Bitch Ass rejects the comfort of emulating its progenitors by literally pushing boundaries within its own world. There are editing flourishes where the aspect ratio contorts at such a rate that would make De Palma blush. And it is all in service of the table-top gameplay theme. The film consistently utilizes an ultra-wide aesthetic in its framing, though it digresses for Todd’s segments (shot in academy ratio), player versus player combat, and a Rubik’s cube motif that is the source of some of the most inventive sequences. These risks absolutely work in a home setting, yet I couldn't help but dream of an immersive theatrical presentation.
Bitch Ass is a gnarly slasher mixtape. Gleeful violence is mixed with moments of reckoning that hinge on the psychological tension of each game. Throwback slashers are often too cozy in the skin of their forebears to try new things. It’s a total drag, considering the outlaw sensibilities of the era in which the slasher sub-genre festered and boiled. With a film like Bitch Ass joining the likes of Tragedy Girls, Death Drop Gorgeous and Sound of Violence, however, it is safe to say the perennial raunchy spirit of American grindhouse is rejuvenated.
Bitch-Ass is playing at the Chattanooga Film Festival through June 28th, 2022.
