Macon Blair’s The Toxic Avenger is both a tribute to Troma’s midnight-movie legacy and a bizarre reinvention that feels like it escaped from the wrong decade. Somehow, it manages to feel like Troma and not like Troma at the same time. It is gruesome, brutal, cheap-looking in an oddly expensive way, and packed with over-the-top performances.
Peter Dinklage anchors the film as Winston Gooze, the downtrodden janitor who mutates into Tromaville’s mop-wielding radioactive savior. Dinklage is almost too good for this material. His grounded sincerity clashes, in a strangely funny way, with the cartoonish world around him. Opposite him, Kevin Bacon chews scenery as Bob Garbinger, a villain who looks like Bon Jovi’s stunt double, before morphing into something closer to Sabretooth. Elijah Wood, nearly unrecognizable, lurks as Fritz Garbinger, giving off the energy of two different Penguins, part Robin Lord Taylor and part Danny DeVito. Together, the cast elevates what could have been a disposable camp.
The world Blair builds is visually striking: somewhere between the neon grit of The Crow and the pulp surrealism of Dick Tracy. The Killer Nutz, a gang that falls musically between Kottonmouth Kings and Hollywood Undead, only adds to the unhinged texture. At times, the film feels less like the scrappy original and more like a grindhouse comic book movie, echoing The Mask with its Looney Tunes energy.
The makeup on Toxie looks surprisingly solid, though the oversized left eye is a distracting misfire. Ironically, it looks better after it pops out and gets shoved back in. The effects team (Millennium FX) clearly poured love into the gore, and the kills are vicious enough to make genre fans wince. The finale’s kill, in particular, is the kind of gloriously nasty payoff that midnight audiences will cheer for.
Blair keeps Lloyd Kaufman’s gonzo spirit alive with weird side characters and strange humor. David Yow as Guthrie Stockins, “the Wise Hobo,” steals the show with a monologue on life, death, and kindness, an oddly soulful interlude in the middle of radioactive chaos. Subtle background jokes, like TV ticker headlines, are some of the funniest touches. But when the humor gets too try-hard, the film stumbles.
The soundtrack is another odd delight. The Killer Nutz even perform before Toxie takes the stage, setting the tone with their chaotic blend of rap-rock absurdity. From there, opera chants, like a Lacrimosa remix, collide with Toxie belting out lines in a Lemmy-from-Motörhead growl. It is absurd, loud, and somehow perfect for the movie’s patchwork tone.
If anything holds The Toxic Avenger back, it is the inconsistency. Some reveals feel tacked-on, making no sense and adding nothing. There are scenes that veer too far into stupidity without the charm to back it up. And while this is certainly a step up from some of Troma’s recent “woke-for-the-sake-of-it” output, it does not feel like a full return to form either.
Still, there is no denying it: this is destined for midnight-movie status. Between the slapstick gore, a bloody Weekend at Bernie’s gag, and a final act that goes full comic book lunacy, it is so stupid it circles back to being fun. Fans of the original will probably still prefer Lloyd Kaufman’s grimy 1984 cult classic, but Blair’s version is a strange, gory, opera-scored party worth attending.
Jessie Hobson