Stéphan Castang

I discovered this film when it was released, and for the young cinephile I was, it was a weird experience. I felt that for the first time I was seeing an Odorama movie. You should be warned: Street Trash is a film that stinks. It even starts with a big fart blown in somebody’s face.

It shows a New York we’re not used to seeing, that of the downtrodden and destitute, living as hobos in an auto junkyard. A Brooklyn liquor store owner finds an old crate of an unknown alcohol beverage (of the Viper brand). He sells this liquor to the local hobos, and from there, a massacre begins as the alcohol literally melts anyone who takes a sip.

A gore movie without blood, as here fluids aren’t red but multicolored, (yellow, blue, green, purple), the horror coming less from the exploding bodies than from other more upsetting scenes: a cop puking on a gangster, a hobo trying to recover his severed penis, a drunk woman raped to death by the hobos... Everything is exaggerated, vulgar, in bad taste, like a nasty stupid cartoon and it’s as disgusting as it’s exhilarating.

Closer to the spirit of Hara Kiri than of a real social commentary, Street Trash offers a counterpoint to the 80s triumphant America, and represents its hidden side (which Carpenter will also show with his extraordinary They Live!).

But if this filthy film has reached a true cult status, it’s also due to its inventive direction and the technical virtuosity of the camera work, that set it apart from other productions of the era. Jim Muro (it’s his only movie) would go on to be a renowned steadicam operator for major Hollywood productions (he’s among others, a regular camera operator for James Cameron).

I warmly recommend this film, so disgusting it has been disowned by its creator, who no longer wants to hear of it. Maybe to the satisfaction of Roy Frumkes, the script writer and producer, who declared: “With this script, I wanted to shock every community on the planet.” Mission accomplished, Roy!