Street Trash (1987)

James M. Muro directs Mike Lackey, Bill Chepil and Vic Noto in this bad taste romp where the bums of New York are melting into toxic ooze whenever they take a sip from a dangerous consignment of cheap liquor.

Want to see homeless grouches melting into streams of rubbery green, purple and yellows? Probably not… but Street Trash delivers. Then at the midway point it gets bored of its main plot and introduces gangsters, Vietnam flashbacks and deathly tramp gangbangs just for the hell of it. It is hyper offensive… women are prey for sexual predators, casual racism abounds, bodily fluids weep with disease. I’ve never witnessed quite such a self consciously dirty, cartoonishly offensive production. One twist in the plot sees a particularly nasty hobo cleaned up and dressed as your grandad as a punishment. That’s the level of fucked up wit we are dealing with here. Street Trash should be unwatchable but it has real punk energy and unusual visual strength. The director went on to be James Cameron’s go-to steadicam operator. Beyond the absurd extreme deaths Muro imbues the real world locations with a dark magic. For most of the performers this is their only IMDB credit. Mike Lackey plays lead down and out Fred like a velvet hatted Bugs Bunny. His opening chase sequence sees him pinch bottoms and execute side hustles as a mob grows after him. As anti heroes go, he’s a hoot. Frankenhooker’s mad lovelorn scientist James Lorinz turns up in the final act as a doorman with a helluva mouth on him. A character so funny they keep returning to him long after he’s been narratively useful. Street Trash is a throwaway videoshop gem. If you can stomach Larry Cohen and you’ve exhausted Frank Henenlotter then give this farting, squelching, screaming zero budget epic a try!


Check out my wife Natalie’s Point Horror blog

We also do a podcast together called The Worst Movies We Own. It is available on Spotify or here

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