Aug 3, 2008

Vrooom Vroom Vroooom

The very same director that created a genre with his films Sweet Sweetback's Baadaassss Song and Watermelon Man brings you a short (1994) included in a pack of 6 short erotic films with a genre twist to them. It's obvious that Melvin is getting senile in his old age with the release of the cantankerous short film that has me holding my gut in shame for watching this fermented filth.

A down-on-his-luck hillbilly acne-plagued Black boy named Leroy is surrounded by not white trash, but black trash. Disgusting locals who slop their tongues around screaming about barbeque's while Leroy pines for attention. His pop constantly pokes fun at his sons lack of girl communication or "getting some" The virility is often challenged by the duo of father and son which leads to uncompromisingly awkward bonding scenes.

Fueled by a southern bluegrass and Jazz soundtrack, it adds to that Kentucky Fried Chicken feel that is present along with every other Black stereotype. He soon saves the life of a witch who dresses like a Tusken Raider from Tatooine. The befuddled Leroy believes in magic; not voodoo which could be canon to the Negro folklore, but we're treated to a bullshit Genie approach. He wishes for two things - a motorcycle and a woman. In the vein of Goosebumps and the classic phrase "Be careful what you wish for!" his wish turns into a motorcycle-morphing woman who is sweatier than a professional wrestler.


This short tale is not thrilling but disgusting and goofy. The sex scenes are PG-13 at best and feature some of the most disgusting situations, faces, and sexual advances I have ever witnessed. I rather found myself to be permanently turned off from sex as a whole. Eventually, when the film begins to slow down, the ending is one of those "Broke the early warning" endings. I can't relate to these characters who get a wish only to void it.

Vrooom Vroom Vroooom is a very amateur sketch for a seasoned director. This idea doesn't even look good on paper. Someone with the taste of black culture should be ashamed to direct a film that regards itself as using "state-of-the-art morphing technology." You sir, Melvin Van Peebles, might burn in hell for creating this disgusting piece of trash from which I couldn't muster the ability to harvest any "cinematic nutrients" from.


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