The five of cups, the hanged man, and the sun—even if you don’t know how to read tarot, that’s fine, because Annapurna Sriram’s boldly titled Fucktoys (2025) tells us that the combination is plan ol’ bad luck. Our hero AP (Sriram herself) begins her journey in the middle of a huge swamp, where a tarot reader (iconic genderfluid bounce artist Big Freedia) tells her frankly, that she’s been cursed. Those teeth that have been falling out? Yeah, that’s black magic. Capitalism, of course, is her way out: the only way she can undo the magic is by gathering one thousand dollars to have the tarot reader lift the curse, involving a ritual slaughter of a baby lamb. If not, then bad, bad things will happen.
What else is AP to do but hop on her crystal blue moped, adorned with a sparkly unicorn, and begin to gather the money—a delightful fairytale-like starter to Sriram’s debut feature, which landed its world premiere in South by Southwest’s (SXSW) Narrative Feature Competition. Turning from acting to feature filmmaking, the US talent is off to a good start, snagging the competition’s Special Jury Award for a Multi-Hyphenate (she serves as the feature’s writer, director, star, and executive producer).
AP doesn’t live in what we know as the “ordinary world”; she lives in Trashtown, USA, where the first montage shots of the city are crumbling buildings, downed power lines, and hazmat-donning cleaners seemingly wiping up wreckages. The police that break up the reunion at what looks to be an ad hoc commune, where she reunites with her bleach-blonde masc friend (but perhaps friend-with-benefits) Danni (Sadie Scott), wear latex and begin to flog the man who was just moments before gleefully dominated by AP.
In a patterned crop top/skirt combination and a red bowtie in her hair, she crafts a pin-up persona for herself, as this is what seemingly appeals to her clients; we learn she makes money through sex work and pursues more adventurous encounters to earn the one thousand dollars. By this point, we’ve already witnessed a golden shower, and later, a joyful fisting of a client named James Francone (Brandon Flynn)—both carried out by Danni—so we know that Sriram is not afraid to go beyond the vanilla. However, as she mopeds her way across this world with Danni, the extent of the so-called debauchery we witness onscreen is not constant, and the camp never reaches full camp. In talkbacks at SXSW, Sriram has openly cited references the films of John Waters and the rambunctious, semi-hallucinatory chaos of Gregg Araki (although with less intentionally blown-out colour schemes)—of which we can say she’s definitely achieved, even if perhaps in a more rambling manner.
The writer-director uses sound effects (sound by Nathan Ruyle) that fill in gaps of information such as the barking of dogs to signal the loss of her fur-baby, Pepper, or other sonic elements to demonstrate AP’s messy interiority. There are also several interesting uses of non-diegetic music, such as when characters are filmed underwater, such that the music is muted or distorted as if it were diegetic. AP’s journey is further soundtracked with bops in several languages, including covers of French- and Spanish-language language songs (some classics, others simply fitting the vibe) and multiple needledrops of “USSR”, a breezy 1984 funk track from relatively obscure group Wild Fire (you’ll hear “I’ll even take you to the USSR / if you take your lovely body back home” ringing in your ears after the film ends).
Fucktoys fares best during its most playfully experimental, such as when it plays with elements of screen life and fast-paced editing by Lilly Wild and Grason Caldwell. The choice to shoot in 16mm and then trim down the frame to a dramatic 2.35:1 ratio (what is effectively anamorphic widescreen) is an interesting (and noticeable) move, even if saturating the colours more would add to the camp. The film certainly can be described as queered cinema, especially when it comes to its full-on depiction of sexual freedom, but sometimes it feels surprising that we never witness a hookup between the very close AP and Danni, for instance, or that AP’s encounters are mostly with older men. Of course, this doesn’t discount any intentions behind describing the film as queer; rather, it adds another dimension to films under the umbrella of queer cinema.
The work’s narrative is what ends up as its most frustrating part: the hunt for the one thousand dollars ends up largely as a MacGuffin, turning Fucktoys into mostly a series of interconnected vignettes—featuring fun performances by perpetually recognisable actors Damian Young and François Arnaud—with a somewhat out-of-the-blue ending. It might seem surprising, but Sriram could probably turn up the dial even further to eleven—both stylistically and narratively—without ever going too far, as the film occasionally veers into homage territory rather than standing on its own. Nonetheless, the writer-director has shown that she’s ready to get down and dirty both onscreen and behind the camera, which is sure to guarantee an even more inspired sophomore feature.
