“My peace is going down the drain.”
Horror has a curious relationship when it comes to turning innocuous and inanimate objects into murderous weapons of destruction, whether it’s In Fabric’s homicidal dress, the psychic killer tire from Rubber, or the cursed hair extensions from Sion Sono’s Exte. That being said, a bloodthirsty toilet is fairly uncharted territory for horror. There’s something immediately intriguing about imbuing such intensely human emotions into an everyday item, especially one like a toilet, which is connected to such private moments.
The aptly titled Bowels of Hell is a broad, disgusting Brazilian horror-comedy from Gustavo Vinagre and Gurcius Gewdner that’s incredibly tongue-in-cheek with its sick sense of humor. That being said, it has as much to say about motherhood, grief, and acceptance as it does about puerile and repulsive setpieces. It’s a weird, wonderful burst of anarchic filmmaking that’s guaranteed to leave its audience scared shitless.
Bowels of Hell taps into that early Peter Jackson gross-out vibe and the type of film that would make for a sublime double feature with Bad Taste or Braindead. It’s the type of gonzo horror film that midnight screenings were made for, with a playful grindhouse aesthetic that fits the film’s surreal tone. Bowels of Hell feels like one of the fake trailers from Quentin Tarantino and Robert Rodriguez’s Grindhouse, only it commits to the bit and delivers a full film of fecal frights. Malu (Martha Nowill), a grieving party planner, finds herself at the center of a crass curse that terrorizes her entire apartment complex, turning its bathrooms into salacious slaughterhouses.
This brewing cosmic terror somehow occupies the sidelines of this story as a handful of harrowing character dramas that intersect over love, loss, and legacy take center stage. Bowels of Hell argues that adulthood is an inherently painful experience, and the film repeatedly gets caught up with the running theme of transitions. Everyone finds themselves in different phases of existence, some of which are more permanent than others. This extends to focusing on individuals with differences and disabilities, how they present themselves in society, and how this affects their self-perception.
Bowels of Hell taps into interesting territory by repeatedly presenting characters on the toilet, robbing them of the sacred solitude of what’s supposed to be a personal moment. These invasive sequences are meant to draw laughs and undercut tension, but they’re also a grander commentary on the loss of privacy and what society has stolen from these women. They’re left with nothing, and even something as confidential as a bathroom break becomes a dangerous, compromised concession. Their struggle, as they groan and shift on the toilet, is a distillation of their constant ordeals in life. It’s an absurd way to make this point, but one that’s still apt. That’s kind of Bowels of Hell in a nutshell. Insightful and infantile.
There’s a bit of a formulaic pattern that Bowels of Hell falls into, even if it never feels padded or repetitive. There are some impressive practical gore effects that aren’t afraid to get slimy and extreme. There are beautiful blood bubbles, rat POV shots, a gruesome umbilical cord tug of war, and carnivorous toilets with effects that look like they’re out of a Stuart Gordon film. All this works and contributes to the film’s overall aura of ‘What the F**k?’
The over-the-top kills and gross-out effects are Bowels of Hell’s biggest talking points. None of this would mean anything without compelling characters to hold it together and give it purpose. The film is full of strong performances by an entertaining collection of eccentric characters with larger-than-life personalities, particularly Malu. She delivers so many heightened expressions during her harrowing performance. All these oddballs feel so authentic, and it’s easy to get drawn into them, their struggles, and the strangeness that’s united them.
Bowels of Hell sometimes gets a little too saccharine and glib for its own good, like when neglected children lament that they have the power to change the world, but not their parents. There are some genuinely sweet moments of empathy and connection between the film’s younger generation, even if they’re occasionally clumsily executed. Similarly, there are attempts to push some sweeping message about forgiveness in the final act that doesn’t exactly feel earned either.
It also exhibits a strong disdain for influencer culture and the privileged personalities that flock to it, which sometimes feels out of sync with the rest of the movie, but it provides a target for some of Bowels of Hell’s more free-floating aggression and animosity. The film’s final act, which takes place at a vapid gender reveal party, is the perfect culmination of shit, sorrow, and the supernatural.
Bowels of Hell telegraphs the type of film that it is right from the start, and audiences will either be along for the ride or left empty by its outrageous and incorrigible storytelling. There are some very silly ideas being explored in this movie, but its emotional core hits surprisingly hard and turns this scatological saga into a deeply melancholy act of catharsis. Bowels of Hell is rude, ridiculous, and absolutely not for everyone. However, it’s undeniably an original horror experience that unabashedly embraces its polarizing premise. We need more horror movies that go all-out like this and aren’t afraid to ruffle feathers and disrupt. Even if that entails killer toilets that are gateways to Hell.
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