Since Pixar’s Toy Story in 1995, computer-animated movies about otherwise-speechless objects or animals have served the family market entirely, venturing only around the boundaries of true adult territory through mild or sometimes even risqué innuendo, usually (and hopefully) unidentifiable by the target audience. And now, perhaps it can be said that after two decades of such films, one specifically made to be much less fluff-fest and far more sausage was inevitable.
Seth Rogen, who also writes and produces, plays a sausage named Frank who lives in Shopwell’s supermarket with his other food friends, including his hot dog bun girlfriend, Brenda (Kristen Wig). All the inhabitants, whether sausage, bun, bagel, tequila, banana, milk-shake or taco, believe in “The Great Beyond” – a heavenly place where they go when they’re “chosen” by the gods (picked off their shelf and purchased by a human). But when Frank discovers the horrible truth – that there is nothing awaiting them besides being diced, boiled or peeled alive – it’s up to him to convince the population of Shopwell’s to fight back.
As well as its cast, Sausage Party unites the creators behind 2013’s unforgivably-underrated comedy flick This is the End, and is just as refreshingly-surreal and controversially-experimental. And there is, of course, a certain novelty in watching a CGI movie that looks like it’s been made for kids when under no circumstances should it be seen by any. There’s also enough “food horror” (never a thing until now) to put vegans off vegetables and more bad language than you’d find in an entire season of Gordon Ramsey’s Kitchen Nightmares.
To say that Sausage Party is nothing more than a dumb, R-rated feast-for-the-eyes is a lie, as its narrative bun is also filled with smart commentary around our gluttonous obsession with food while the film also cleverly deconstructs the entire concept of religion, and even shines a light on our intolerance of other cultures. Add to that the film’s jaw-droppingly-explicit sexual content, from its provocatively-shaped hot dog buns (as provocative as hot dog buns can be) to a montage so disturbing it gives new meaning to “food sex”, and is one you’ll never be able to un-see.
But while the film makes some bold statements, it’s hardly food-for-thought comedy as you’ll likely remember it for its thoughtless humour rather than any of its social messages. Nevertheless, Sausage Party is far from bad taste comedy and is, inexplicably, one of the smartest and most memorable flicks to emerge this year. The one thing it won’t leave you with though, after its potato-related violence and hot dog erotica, is anything in the way of an appetite…
