Even though the film's hero dead-names Babette at least twenty times over the course of Killer Condom (Kondom des Grauens), you can't help but root for him in his quest to exact revenge on the killer condom that ate his left nut. Huh? What's "dead-naming"? Oh, that's when you use the birth name of someone who has changed it to something else. In the case of Babette (Leonard Lansink), a former cop turned sex worker/lounge singer, her birth name is Bob. And every time Luigi Mackeroni (Udo Samel) dead-named her, I would cringe. While it's clear that Luigi, a chain-smoking New York City cop who was born in Sicily, doesn't respect Babette's decision to transition, their scenes together are worthy of a shit-ton of GLAAD awards. (I don't think this is the type of movie they usually give awards out to.) Really? Well, that's a shame. While the film, directed by Martin Walz and based on the comic by Ralf König, practically oozes politically incorrectness from start to finish, it's one of the more pro-LGBTQ+ genre movies I've ever seen. For one thing, the film has a gay hero. That right there is something you hardly ever see, especially in a horror film. And get this, he's not some cute little glee-esque angel with floppy hair who gives fashion advice to lonely cis women. No, this guy is a balding loutish lump who is unabashed when it comes to his love of fucking other dudes in the ass with his giant cock. In one particularly memorable scene, he explains to his homophobic partner, Sam (Peter Lohmeyer), why he prefers men over women. Oh, and the word "homophobic" is used in the film. Which I thought was strange, as I don't remember it being a common an expression back in the mid-1990s. Or maybe my memory of the mid-1990s isn't as sharp as I thought it was.
Either way, social justice aside, the film is still about condoms that kill. Normally viewed as items that are designed to save lives, Killer Condom, "The Rubber That Rubs You Out!," turns that whole concept on its head by making the popular prophylactic a pointed predator that preys on pockmark-laden pricks.
(Oh, come on. How do you know the cocks attached to the multitude of men who have their junk masticated by a sentient rubber were "pockmark-laden"?)
It's simple, really. Judging by the sleaziness of the hotel at the center of this masterpiece, I would guess that 90% of the penises were covered in pockmarks.
If you're wondering why everyone in New York City speaks German, stop... wondering that. Did you know German almost became the official language of the United States back in the 1700s? Well, it might have. You see, I can't confirm or deny it (it sounds like an urban legend). Nevertheless, in this version of the United States, or at least New York City, German is the official language. And the sooner you accept this, the quicker you'll be able to suspend belief. I've heard of that some people are unable to accept the fact that all New Yorkers speak German, and thus hampering their ability to enjoy the scuzzy spectacle that is this movie.
Which, if you think about it, is kind of sad. I mean, you can accept the fact that an armada of cock-chomping contraceptives are wreaking havoc across New York City. But you can't accept a New York City where everyone is fluent in German. That's fucked up.
Playing like a conventional murder mystery, Killer Condom adds a twist to the genre by having cocks be the primary victim. Usually attacked during coitus, the authorities initially blame the sex workers for the cock-noshing, but Luigi Mackeroni knows better.
For one thing, he likes to frequent the hotel where the bulk of the attacks have taken place. Why, you ask? Um, anonymous gay sex? Duh.
Just as he was about to plunge his giant schlonge into the anal cavity belonging to a yummy prostitute named Billy (Marc Richter), Luigi feels something gnawing on his genitals. Thwarting the toothy condom's attempt consume the entirety of his package in the nick of time, Luigi manages to survive the altercation. Unfortunately, he lost a portion of his testicles in the fracas, his left ball to be testes-specific.
This encounter with the ravenous dinger gives Luigi an unique perspective, as the majority of his co-workers doubt the string of dick-related homicides were caused by murderous cabal of sheath-like inanimate objects designed to hold vagina-bound dick-jizz.
Frustrated by the lack of support of his fellow cops, Luigi must battle these "killer condoms" all by myself. If that wasn't enough, Luigi must contend with Babette, his transgender ex, and the desire to mount Billy... like I said earlier, his initial attempt to mount Billy's butt was hindered by a psychotic prophylactic.
(Are you sure Babette isn't merely a cross-dresser?) That's what I thought at first. But Luigi mentions the "fake hormones" coursing through Babette's veins at one point. Correct me if I'm wrong, but I don't think cross-dressers go through hormone replacement therapy. (Okay, but why is Babette so hairy?) Didn't you get the memo? Trans women who are hairy are valid. Bigot.
Call me overly sensitive, but when Luigi eventually calls Babette "Babette" without being told to do so, I got a little teary-eyed. Yeah, that's right. I cried while watching Killer Condom, you got a problem with that? I didn't think so.
A poorly-worded German love letter to New York City when it was a sleaze-soaked paradise, Killer Condom breaks ground left, right and center. Sure, it's mildly transphobic and homophobic. But I can't stay mad at a film that boasts a Cruising tribute (the hanky code, baby) and multiple scenes that feature dudes getting their genitals eviscerated. No, transphobia and homophobia aside, the film... Oooh, they mention the internet, too! And cybersex! Anyway, where was I? Oh, yeah. This film is basically a must-see for fans of Frank Henenlotter's NYC-set body horror flicks.
Special thanks to Katie for recommending this movie. *hugs*
Special thanks to Katie for recommending this movie. *hugs*