by Anthony O'Connor
Worth: $11.50
FilmInk rates movies out of $20 — the score indicates the amount we believe a ticket to the movie to be worth
Cast:
Tipper Newton, Steve Little, Robert Longstreet, Kynzie Colmery, George Sample III, Bryan Connolly
Intro:
For a certain type of human being (aka stoned and/or drunk ratbags), Fuck My Son! will be endlessly entertaining. For everyone else, this will be yet another nihilistic nasty, grinning and drooling and asking if “you’re triggered?”
There are certain movies that seem designed to piss people off; works of cinematic art that are calibrated with exacting precision to give the roaring shits to the largest number of people possible. The Human Centipede trilogy (2009-2015), some of the nastier Troma entries (looking at you, Citizen Toxie) and The Greasy Strangler (2016) are but three notable examples of the deplorable, puke-spattered sub-genre. Well now, in 2026, you can add to that list Fuck My Son!, the latest flick from writer/director Todd Rohal and a film that is sure to incense, appall and, frequently exhaust all but the most dead-eyed sociopaths.
Fuck My Son! tells the tragic tale of Sandi (Tipper Newton), who is having a nice shopping day with her young daughter Bernice (Kynzie Colmery) when she is knocked out and shoved into a van by clinically batshit insane old lady, Vermina (Robert Longstreet). Sandi comes to in a dingy little house tied up, her daughter in a cage, with Vermina giving her a very simple demand: fuck my son and live. Refuse and die. In the interest of saving Bernice’s life, Sandi agrees, however, when Vermina wheels out her son Fabian (Steve Little), a pustule encrusted, diaper-wearing lump of mewling, twisted flesh, she begins to regret everything. That’s around the same time that you, the audience member, will also begin to question life choices.
Okay, so, first thing’s first: Fuck My Son! will almost certainly offend and disturb you, on one level or another. This is a flick that combines rape, sexual coercion, child abuse, ableism, bodily fluids, incest and generative AI in a putrid stew with the same glee as a mischievous toddler delighting in the contents of their full and festy nappy. It’s less shocking than the big guns of disturbing cinema like Salo (1975), Cannibal Holocaust (1980) or The Sadness (2021), but it will mess with your head if you’re not at least somewhat used to this kind of gleeful, anarchic trash. It’s quite a well shot film, with solid direction from Rohal, decent performances from Newton, Longstreet and Little and effectively grotesque special make-up effects courtesy of Robert Kurtzman. There are also genuinely funny moments amidst the nastiness, but it doesn’t quite sustain the interest through its entire 94 minutes, and by the time you reach the film’s second (!) epilogue, you may find yourself more knackered than engaged.
For a certain type of human being (aka stoned and/or drunk ratbags), Fuck My Son! will be endlessly entertaining. For everyone else, this will be yet another nihilistic nasty, grinning and drooling and asking if “you’re triggered?” Smug at times and a bit too high on the smell of its own farts, it never reaches the level of classic B-grade trash like Basket Case (1982), Brain Damage (1988), Astron-6’s Father’s Day (2011) or Australia’s own Ribspreader (2022). Still, you could probably piss off a lot of people by playing it at a movie night or something. After all, one man’s empty edgelord wank is another man’s hilarious cult classic.
We’d caution against watching it with your mum, mind you.
