Teeth

Mitchell Lichtenstein
2007

While relieving myself in the mens room following a screening of this nifty genre oddity I realized how easily this dangerously campy picture could have teetered into complete schlock, causing theaters full of NYU jocks to grab their crotches in mock agony and hoot and holler at the screen. As I stood there pissing contentedly I smiled as I heard a card-carrying bro turn to his friend and say "dude, that was awkward."

Teenage Dawn is an allstar speaker in her local abstinence club, and her wholesome life is rounded out by a loving mother and stepfather. Home-life would be perfect were it not marred by the presence of her sodomy-obsessed metalhead step brother (complete with spike labret piercing!). While crushed out on a hunky fellow abstainee, Dawn confusedly stumbles headfirst into sexuality and realizes something's not quite right with her ladyparts.

Teeth's admittedly corny spin on the Vagina Dentata myth throws us some none-too-subtle hints as to why Dawn's unmentionables seem to be harboring some nasty chompers. First there's the ubiquity of the nuclear cooling towers looming above the suburban idyll, as well as a classroom discussion regarding Darwinism, Creationism, and freak mutation which comes off gracefully as a sucker punch. All the menfolk who lose digits and members to these titular teeth are certainly deserving of feminine retribution, but the pictures suffers for lack of a truly satisfying villain. Even the cause of big bro's monstrous priggishness is illuminated in flashback.

Instead, Teeth acts as a quasi coming of age tale through the introspection and depth of Jess Weixler's performance (rare for a fright flick) combined with Lichtenstein's sly tone. The abstinence kids are an easy target, ripe for pratfalls, yet while they are treated to a fair amount of ribbing there's a noticeable absence of malicious mockery. The film is fun, but its not exactly a balls-out riot either, relying on solid ironic humor and jittery suspense scenes. There's a genuine sense of satisfaction in Dawn's eventual acceptance, and appreciation of her unique form, and while there's plenty to be said about the psychological implications of womens' body and sexuality issues as presented in the film, I'll leave that to Freud and continue to chuckle as our blonde heroin looks on dispassionately at a hungry Rottweiler scarfing up a freshly mutilated penis.

Review by Brett A. Scieszka