Sausage Party

Sausage Party
Anthropomorphic food funniness with Sausage Party.

Seth Rogen and long-term collaborator Evan Goldberg serve up a deliriously dirty slice of animated fun stuffed with foul-mouthed foodstuffs and cursing condiments in Sausage Party. The film undoubtedly lives up to its marketing as the first genuinely adult CGI-cartoon comedy, with a supermarket full of anthropomorphised food products who hold the unwavering belief that one day they will be selected by their beneficent gods (the oblivious human shoppers) and taken to the “Great Beyond” (outside the supermarket doors) to start a pleasurable life, along as they remain in their packages as unsullied and compliant comestibles.

The movie’s savoury hero is a horny frankfurter called, you guessed it, Frank, who hopes to conjoin with Brenda the hot-dog bun once they are both chosen and liberated by their human gods. However, when a traumatised honey mustard unexpectedly returns to the supermarket shelves with the revelation that the gods are in fact hungry sadistic monsters, the supermarket residents’ cherished belief system is thrown into serious doubt. Frank and his perishable pals thus set out on a journey to discover the hidden truth behind their existence among the supermarket aisles.

To its credit, Sausage Party provides more than just a slew of vulgar sex-jokes and ridiculous stoner gags. The scriptwriters gleefully take aim at organised religion and ask for reason and knowledge to prevail without belittling those who follow certain beliefs that are scientifically unprovable.

Some viewers may find the racial stereotyping a little too close to the bone, such as a box of cracker-hating grits, but most of the jokes hit their target and, like South Park, the scriptwriters manage to offend everyone equally. Plus, the movie offers one of the most outrageously filthy finales you’re ever likely to see on screen that will make even a hedonist turn tomato red. Like a box of calorie-filled chocolates, it’s a tasty but oh-so-naughty cinematic treat.

4/5 stars


By Robin Davies