With the Japanese believing they are the sole proprietor and pioneers of high art, the director also has an egotistical vision of a film separate from American cinema. This might explain why the first scene is the director howling "To hell with the US! To hell with Herpes!" in a megaphone. Only from this pivotal scene of craziness could the subversive elements float to the surface. Tampon Tango was definitely an experiment in a personal vision, in way, this vision might be TOO personal. In no way could the director have made this film for the fans of obscure cinema of today. There really is no logical reason for a film of this degree to be produced.
The scenes continue to stack with a followed shot of Japanese couples "necking" and dry-humping on a public sidewalk. We are soon introduced to a rag-tag Japanese "Real World" crew. After discussing their intention to practice fornication in a van, they rest at a beach so two of the lady companions can deodorize their soapy vagina's in brackish waters. During this quest of femininity, Defcon 5 is triggered with a meteorite warning indicator flashing on screen. A space rock lands on one of the females craniums issuing a bloody nose. The loony, impassioned director begins screaming for more tampons at this point. Cut to two naked Japanese men running over sand dunes with a plethora of tampons tied to their dicks while hollering a war cry. As a member of the audience, you really don't know what to do. You can either brave through the rest of these unnatural occurrences or get out while the getting is good.
To become of an accomplished genre, sex scenes are inimitably placed in a verbose manner. To call this portion of the film difficult would be an understatement. To film the human body as an intimate instrument is an achievement. The director has done the exact opposite and composed shots of intercourse as to appear grotesque and deformed. Greasy Chink flesh flapping and squishing together in a non-rhythmic performance in horribly edited loops makes up most of the running time. Had the antics been stretched more, Tampon Tango would have fit within its boundaries perfectly. However, the slack stretches over the line thanks to sex scenes that will leave you gasping for breath. Eat your heart out, Bat Pussy.
To pick up for any inconveniences, we're treated to a slam-bang finale including and not limited to a three-piece marching band in ironed skirts, an enormous paper-mâché tampon, a giant meteorite crashing through the ceiling, punk guys initiating a bi-family orgy of confetti, streamers, and festive screaming. Tampon Tango acknowledges what it is and perfects the formula other than the sex. It is equal parts insanity and unflattering sex scenes. Had the potency of the intercourse been toned down, Tampon Tango would appear more honed and polished. One of the most illustrious and talented shots of the film is a mid-edited scene of a man doing a back handspring and during the middle of his flip his clothes are removed resulting in a flawless frame rate -- Thus cementing a true piece of cinemagic, although tasteless.
Of course through out this "anti-American film" piece, we have many true-to-life stereotypes being played out by those of the mocked nationality. Women remark disgustedly at the size of their partner's fuzzy penis before performing putrid fellatio upon him. The only aspect that I could deem erotic is the project itself. There's something arousing about a film as goofy as this. Call it whatever you will but it's more of an aesthetic appreciation. Tampon Tango is the most obscure and bizarre film I've ever had the pleasure to see. As it may be, I took this film far too seriously upon my preliminary viewing but I can tell you this; I look forward to introducing my fellow town residents to this mock up of the porn industry. I'm just not sure how many of these chosen will retain their sanity. I sure as hell know I didn't.