When Jaws (1975) was released over fifty years ago, there was “a different set of jaws” prowling around in late-night cinema screenings: The Rocky Horror Picture Show (1975). Fast forward to 2026, another summer blockbuster from Steven Spielberg is in theaters, and everyone is awaiting the looming giant that is Christopher Nolan’s The Odyssey. However, much like Rocky Horror, there is a different sort of odyssey making the rounds in midnight showings and independent cinemas: Fucktoys.
In her debut feature film, Annapurna Sriram unapologetically charts a day in the life of a sex worker while mirroring the Major Arcana of the tarot. The film heavily pulls from the likes of John Waters, Gregg Araki, and the French New Wave, while also feeling wholly inspirational in its own right. Unlike any modern film from the past twenty years, Fucktoys escorts you into a new world, a cinematic universe made of ribbons, lollipops, trash, and psychics. Candy-colored visuals, neon-drenched daydreams, and a pixieish, pastel color palette tie this fever dream together into a highly stylized, camp romp.
The film follows AP (Sriram), a sex worker who needs to make some quick cash to get rid of a curse. Her search for money leads her down the alleys of Trashtown, USA — a fictional setting that bypasses time and space. Trashtown encompasses the world as we know it, as we knew it, and as we wished it could be. Not unlike many small American towns, it is covered in trash. But it also features frilly bedrooms in the prairie, a psychic in the middle of a swamp, and peculiar relics of bygone eras.
Sprinkled alongside these oddities is a constant carousel of ominous cleaners in full hazmat gear. As AP and her partner in crime, Danni (Sadie Scott), gallivant across Trashtown over the course of one night, the suited figures quietly pick up the perpetual trash in the background. This juxtaposition of images conjures sage advice: find whimsy in the wasteland, no matter how much rubble you have to wade through.
There is a sense of timeless nostalgia that envelops Fucktoys, while also feeling wholly fresh, new, and its own. The film blends inspiration, homage, and time periods together like a gas station concoction of sodas. Most strikingly, the film evokes a pop-princess aesthetic from the early 2000s mixed with the unfiltered cinéma vérité of 1960s France. For example, AP will make a call on her blinged-out flip phone, followed by a long, meandering shot of Danni on the back of her moped, driving through Trashtown. Sriram breaks convention to present her singular vision of a slightly askew reality.
There’s something twee and amiss about Trashtown and its inhabitants. AP wears the same outfit, even after changing, like a cartoon character, as she embarks on a series of bizarre sidequests. There’s a disarmingly charming man on house arrest (François Arnaud), a James Franco-esque actor by the name of “James Francone” (Brandon Flynn), and hedonistic old married folk plucked from any banal American household. There is one thing in common between these encounters: sex.
Fucktoys mixes worlds of trash and spirituality — two descriptors that can also apply to people’s wildly different views and experiences of sex. To the average American, “fucktoys” might sound vulgar, filthy, like trash. To the neighbor next door, it might be an invitation, a playful nod, a good time. (It’s also a play on “fuckboys.”) AP’s job as a sex worker is at the forefront of the story in an earnest, sincere way. Her work isn’t sensationalized or overtly fetishized like many films that have portrayed the profession. This rejection of societal norms and filmic convention plays perfectly into the felicitous folk tale at the center of Fucktoys.
The portrayal of these strange occurrences, late-night creatures, and Godlike mortals imbues the film with a sense of magical realism that feels fruitful and blossoming. Rather than storming into deadly battle like Odysseus, Fucktoys frolics into the fields of femininity and folklore. It is a feat of independent filmmaking, tailored to marginalized communities and fueled by boots-on-the-ground marketing and word-of-mouth. Sriram premiered the film at the 2025 South by Southwest Film Festival to much acclaim and awards. While Fucktoys is still seeking distribution, for now it’s slowly making its way around the country for sneak peek viewings and limited engagement screenings before it finds its home.
Review Courtesy of Kasey Dunifer
Feature Image Credit to Trashtown Pictures