Killer Condom

(This review initially ran in the Purchase College Independent on October 4th, 2007, in a slightly different form.)

Perhaps you’re familiar with Troma Entertainment, purveyors of fine family fare such as Surf Nazis Must Die, Chopper Chicks in Zombietown, and, of course, Toxic Avenger. But naturally, this company’s humor-tinged shock tactics and gross-out grindhouse aesthetics are not for everyone. Perhaps you’d prefer a kinder, gentler Troma, even a socially conscious Troma. In that case, my friend, Killer Condom is for you.

Killer Condom (1996) is only distributed by Troma, not actually a product of its studios. Condom actually came out of Germany, yet it’s set in New York City with a Sicilian protagonist. This low-budget horror-comedy naturally has something of a hard time hiding its European roots in its satirical depiction of America: at one point, a villainous henchman tries to appear inconspicuous in Manhattan by hiding behind a copy of USA Today, that being the city’s preferred newspaper and all.

The action begins in the discreetly-named “Hotel Quickie,” a rare no-tell hotel that hosts both male and female prostitutes in addition to a drag revue. Thanks to the good ol’ US government’s “safer-sex campaign,” there’s a box of condoms sitting in the lobby. The fact that they’re loose and unwrapped somehow doesn’t bother the clientele, including a sleazebag teacher who hopes to blackmail his obviously-twentysomething teenage student from (groan) Farmville, Oklahoma into fucking her way to graduation. As he slides on the condom, the girl’s eyes widen and her face spatters with blood. A Killer Condom claims its first victim!

With a spate of unexpected cock amputations at the Hotel Quickie, Detective Luigi Mackeroni is put on the case. Luigi is a gruff, hard-boiled cop fond of cigarettes, young men—he informs a homophobic colleague that he likes “firm male asses, not pissflaps”—and reminiscing about his native Sicily. Initially it’s believed the bloody mutilations were caused by prostitutes biting off their clients’ genitals, but it gets personal for Luigi when he decides to do some firsthand investigation with hustler Billy and wakes up in the hospital minus one testicle.

While determined to expose the bizarre truth of the matter and get his would-be lover off the hook for the crime, Luigi’s impressive manhood—“exactly 32 centimeters!”—serves as a powerful lure for both the rampant Killer Condoms and his former fling, Bob, an ex-cop turned transvestite prostitute who essentially stalks Luigi. Bob is a stereotypically awful crossdresser at that, with visible chest hair, five o’clock shadow, and all; he’s also an incredibly obnoxious and generally pointless amalgamation of several minor characters from the original German comic books this movie was based on. At any rate, Luigi’s superiors are loath to believe his story until a conservative political candidate gets his own penis bitten off in front of his mistress: can a man without a phallus be a suitable leader? Oh, the philosophical implications!

Surprisingly for something Troma-related, this movie isn’t all that gory; it’s no cavalcade of severed cock shots. The Killer Condoms themselves, with a leechlike ring of sharp teeth concealed at their opening, actually look more like the rubber nipples of baby bottles, considering their oversized reservoir tips. They emit oddly endearing squeaking noises as they sneak around and strike. Yes, the film does eventually explain where they come from and why they exist: naturally, it’s part of a vast right-wing conspiracy. And it ends with a lesson about accepting people’s differences and not being afraid to fall in love. Aw. Stick around during the closing credits for a condom-themed Eurotrash techno song!

Killer Condom is even more fun if you have any knowledge of the German language . . . or the archaic gay “hanky code,” which provides the punchline for a particular scene. How can you see it? Rent the DVD, which is also full of pointless Troma extras.