The alternate name for Pussycake, Emesis, gives a stronger indication as to what the latest film from Pablo Parés is about. The word Pussycake refers to the name of the female punk band at the centre of activities, whilst emesis explains exactly where the horror and disgust are going to come from. Copious amounts of thick white vomit is the step-up from the never-ending sexual violence within Parés’ previous outing. Given how bad taste I am Toxic feels, by comparison, Pussycake, sick and all, is quite palatable.
Although now known by the title Pussycake, the story opens without the titular band in sight. Instead, the story begins with a teenager desperate to find his missing scientist father. Hoping to replicate the final experiment his father was working on, the child sneaks into his laboratory. The test appears to work, but with some very drastic, gross, and unexpected results. This opening sequence runs its course and is then almost entirely forgotten about. The focus moves to the punk rock quartet and it’s as though the strange beginning never happened. Later in the story, the group does cross through the laboratory, but it’s almost an afterthought and they don’t use the opportunity to uncover any information. With so little connection to the main piece, the opening exists in isolation and almost feels like a short film tagged onto the feature, just how cinemas used to screen films once upon a time.
It doesn’t take Pussycake long to discover that something strange is happening and so the stomach-churning moments begin early and in earnest. The introduction to the band briefly touches on key characters and future plot points. Lead singer Elle (Maca Suarez) is leered at by a fan, the incident triggering the trauma of a former abusive relationship. Her new partner, band-mate Sara (Aldana Ruberto), is fiercely protective of Elle and the other girls are just sort of ‘there’. The emphasis is spent on the dynamic between Elle and Sara, and it tries hard to be a story about love in extreme situations. Whilst it’s great to see time given to thrusting a same-sex couple into the lead story, the relationship between the two women doesn’t feel like one that should be celebrated. In many ways, Sara is just as toxic for Elle as her previous partner and it doesn’t seem right to root for them to be together.
Beneath the attempts at science-fiction, Pussycake is, at heart, a zombie film. With so many films within this subgenre in the world, filmmakers are always seeking new ways to portray the creatures. Whether that be by making their typical slow speed, super fast (28 Days Later), or giving them the ability to feel again (Warm Bodies); audiences have experienced a wide variety of the undead. Parés’ variation is zombies that vomit. A lot. Subverting the usual zombie bite, in Pussycake a new zombie is born after one has vomited directly into the host’s mouth. It’s as grim as it sounds and those with a weak gag reflex should keep themselves far away. The idea quickly becomes tired and repetitive, any spark it had quickly snuffed out.
Tonally a vast improvement of I Am Toxic, Pussycake still seems to be trying too hard to shock and disgust purely for the sake of it.
Pussycake
Summary
Sickbags are vital equipment to make it through Pussycake with your lunch intact.
Pussycake was reviewed at Arrow Video FrightFest 2022.
