Another Yeti A love story: A Life on the Streets – A Bad Review

The list of things that are Not Safe For Work is fairly extensive, which could be fun to explore, but instead we’ll just add this review to that list and get on with things. Is that okay? The reason for this, as you might expect, is that this review and the film it details is very much Not Safe For Work.  You could be in charge of cleaning the toilets at the Troma film studios, and at no point during your career would this review ever be safe for work.

It’s probably not even safe for your 3am, locked garden shed either, truth be told. If you live within 100 yards of anyone prudish enough to take issue with an enormous plastic penis, then scroll through this review in the privacy of your own inter-dimentional void, and don’t forget the ‘do not disturb’ sign.

I thought it best to highlight this point before we begin. Because I care.

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A brief history of all that is yeti

I once had the unfortunate displeasure of being mentally and emotionally violated by a Yeti whilst putting together a review for Yeti: A Gay Love Story. That movie was a 2006 travesty of sexual innuendo and stomach-churning immaturity that, whilst admirable for the effort its creators underwent, was ultimately…fucking annoying.

Therefore, I was doing my best to forget it existed when I was offered the how-could-I-refuse opportunity to frown at its sequel – Another Yeti A Love Story: Life on the Streets. This movie promised to be something with a little more passion, a lot more funding, and all the gusto and spunk that three writers could muster. How could I be anything other than deeply depressed with excitement?

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Following the the most sideways-mental funding pitch ever, the B-Movie community (and presumably a bunch of very dedicated perverts) took the bait, and following a successful Kickstarter campaign, production began on a movie that would bring Yeti: A Love Story’s cast and crew (and it’s weird obsession with the abominable snowman and slapstick homosexuality) back together. Would fans of the first movie (I presume it has some) have bestowed upon them a worthy successor to the original film?

I myself, having been exposed to such lubricious nonsense as the first movie, couldn’t help but wade even deeper into the mire of Yeti-dom, and feast my eyes (and possibly stomach contents) on Another Yeti: Life on the Streets.

After all, if I made it through the first one then I can make it through this. Right?

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Another Yeti A love story:
A Life on the Streets

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Oh.

Well this is unexpected. Another Yeti: Life on the Streets is a different beast. Same well-endowed fictional monstrosity, but a very different beast, for numerous reasons. Not least of which because the creators behind Another Yeti have taken the awkward revulsion of the first movie and polished it into a much shinier and dazzling bell-end of distaste.

I mean really polished.

That may sound off-putting, but sometimes the things that are the most repulsive are also too damn funny to ignore. I guess it all comes down to maturity. Which as anyone who has been in my company for more than five seconds will know is not my forte.

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All that is yeti

Another Yeti certainly mirrored it’s predecessor in one notable way though. Namely, it made me deeply regret myself…again.

How so? Permit me a tangent.

Much like the highly regrettable Google searching I underwent during research for the review of the first film, I also found myself praying for God to have curiosity surgically removed from my soul whilst looking up numerous Yeti-related trivia for this movie too.

Specifically, the self-loathing I rediscovered when some dark and questionable corner of my mind began to wonder early on if Yeti’s have ever had rule 34 applied to them, and had this ever fully developed into a legitimate sex-fetish, complete with weird forums and fringe communities and whatnot.

No, not for me you sick bastard. It’s research.

Let me save you the time and effort (and shame and self-loathing) of looking this up yourself, and instead advise that you leave this topic alone.

Yes, that shit exists, and no, you DO NOT want to see any of it. Rule 34 is real, people. Don’t fuck with it.

Why is this point important? Because you should always have at least an idea of what you are getting in to, as no niche is for everyone.

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This might not be for everyone

So what do we call this?

Gay-spoiltation? Yeti-spolitation? I’m sure it’s some kind of ‘sploitation’ but it could honestly have any number of ‘X-Y-Z’-ploitation definitions given how chock full it is of things that try to either offend you, or make you reincarnate your breakfast.

But I may as well leave definitions to one side, seeing as the creators themselves have settled with ‘Spew Wave Cinema’, which is so fucking brilliant it should have it’s own Academy Awards category.

But what about the film?

Well, I had a hard time reviewing the first one, because it was shit. But I also had a hard time reviewing this film, because…it’s…good?

Well, apparently so. Hooray(!), you would think. Except any sudden display of unexpected talent would make it a struggle for me to be the sarcastic shit-bag that my ego demands. You mean I have to be nice? How the fuck does that work? That would mean the asshole part of my brain would have to give way to wherever it is that praise comes from. The shins? The colon? Wait, I’d better cut out the C-word whilst Another Yeti is within ear shot. Wouldn’t want my praise-hole to be permanently stuffed full of XXL veiny plastic yeti. I’m not sure I’d be physically capable of saying nice things after that, not that I’d want to.

But yes. It would appear that Another Yeti is sharp, funny, irreverent, light-hearted, and entirely self-aware. And (shock)…a good film? I’m sorry, it’s just that this is all a little unexpected. But it is also completely disgusting, which is absolutely expected – this is a Yeti movie made by Adam Deyoe and Eric Gosselin after all – but its gross-out and shock-humour jokes have a little bit of weight behind them this time around, and whilst still entirely puerile, they raise at the very least a grin, if not outright laughter.

So what’s all this fuss about?

Well, let’s take a look at the opening 30 minutes of Another Yeti, just to get the taste of things. Don’t be afraid. Just hold someone’s hand and try not to flinch as I guide you in gently to Another Yeti A Love Story: Life on the Streets.

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No lubrication required

As the film begins, we are greeted by a satanic looking pimp conquistador…

…who addresses the camera and starts giving the old “bitch, where’s ma money?” jive, ensuring to smash a cocktail glass into the face of the muffled whoever we are. As Daddy Faunz begins sexually assaulting this poor character, a mirror reveals us to be (shock horror)…

…a big ol’ Yeti.

Cue one fucking FANTASTIC opening credits sequence full awesome New Retro Wave music. Hooray! It even contains an gorgeous animation of the outline of a city at night being highlighted by pink neon.

It screams of style and confidence, and begins to assuage any doubts I have about how I am spending my evening.

I love it.

Awesome start. This movie is going to be…GAAAHH!!

…

What then immediately followed that gorgeous intro was a well lit close-up of the most disgusting penis I’ve ever not wanted to see.

God damn it.

I should have expected this.

I paused the movie to make it stop while I swore in to my palms, but I failed to understand the logic behind pausing an image you don’t want to look at, as it doesn’t actually go away. This obviously meant that when I was done cursing every member of the production crew, I looked up to see the same hideous looking cock still eyeball fucking me from my laptop screen. I quickly pressed play to get it the fuck away from me, just in case a family member were to walk in and begin questioning what I actually do when everyone’s gone to bed.

“What…that? Oh that’s…er…well, Daddy sometimes…umm…watches movies with…er…”

“I’m telling mommy (sob)”

Yes, the movie thrust a fully shaven penis being squashed against a glass door in my face 30 seconds into the film, and yes, it was hugely off-putting, especially for a someone who is fearful of their own business, and outright allergic to other peoples, but even if it had been a massive bald vagina rubbing against a glass window I would still have shrieked and woken up the neighbours. And the reason for this is simple.

Genitals, regardless of their gender, are fucking gross. Let’s all just come together and admit this fact once and for all, seeing as this movie has proven it beyond all doubt.

Honestly, it’s about time.

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And now for ‘The Talk’, children

Pay attention.

Boobs are…at best…jiggly bags of fat and milk that look like googly-eyes that follow you around no matter where you stand. And at worst, well…they look like pastries full of custard on a planet with too much gravity.

You made me do that.

And the male penis, should I politely remind you all, spends it’s time between one of two physical states – squeaky dog toy, or DNA firework. Plus it looks as if it should be tucked away on the inside of the male body as some kind of second appendix.

If you’re unsure of the heinous nature of your own shame, fellow men, then take a minute and go and remind yourself (because I’m not taking any fucking screenshots.)

I’ll wait.

 

 

See?

HR Giger (who definitely knew his dicks) based his Alien design on a man’s penis. Think about that for a second. A terrifying alien rape monster was based on the thing that seems to want to constantly have me arrested whenever I take public transport on a bumpy road.

He was sitting at his desk with his dong, looking for inspiration, when he looked down and thought “scary bastard.” And he was right. And the female vagina? Fucking come on. Have you seen one of those things up close? It looks like a partially digested Boba Fett will climb out of it and punch you in the face. Don’t you fucking dare disagree with me on this. They absolutely resemble the scary face of a Halloween pumpkin you still have at Christmas.

Yes, they do.

Disgusting. All of them. Especially that damn penis!

Wonderful. This film has now ruined my lovemaking, which is not what I expected.

I should probably apologise though.

Maybe we should actually discuss the movie, just in case any of my ramblings take root in the three people that will read this and cause a butterfly effect that will end the human race. No, I don’t need that shit on my conscience. I’ve enough on my mind.

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Every dick-shaped cloud has a silver lining

I do have to admit that even though I found myself looking at another man’s penis whilst trying to eat a sandwich, it was set to soft classical music (the penis, not the sandwich), which made it funny as shit (once the swearing and self-loathing stopped).

The whole scene in fact is so bizarrely comedic, as Adam (loud-mouth homophobe-turned-homosexual Yeti-lover from the first movie) is drawing said penis, in a room covered in an assortment of penis related art work, most of which is horrifying. Some of it is so funny however, that if they’re not already plastered all over Yeti 2 merchandise (t-shirts, mugs, welcome mats etc) then I’ll just have to take a deep breath and copyright my own appendix.

The naked guy with the modesty-allergy…

…is politely asked to leave, as Adam’s ‘baby’ begins crying, and Adam’s boyfriend Alister cannot help, as he is wheelchair-bound and fast asleep. Once shaken awake, he regales us of how comfortable he is now that he is the proud owner of a severed spine, and how this has led to his fondness for narcolepsy.

Fair enough.

Adam then attends to his son, who looks like this…

Wow. Already I’m laughing my ass off even though I know I shouldn’t be. This is not like the first film at all.

This is funny.

Adam proceeds to tell his son Eddie his favourite story, which also conveniently serves as a recap to the original film. The condensed version of which is – Adam was a nasty homophobe until the day he met a giant Yeti, whom he fell in love with. However, due to various shenanigans, most of his friends were killed by Yeti-worshiping fanatics and the Yeti itself was killed by some random hunter, but not before (no shit) impregnating Adam with his son Eddie.

God damn it, why couldn’t the original film have been that quick?

Anyway, as Adam ends his monologue he clarifies the impact of the decisions he has made as a grown man.

“I ended up like a lot of girls. I was pregnant. Pregnant with you…”

We are soon introduced to ‘Dick’ from the first film, who is having a little trouble ‘finishing’ with the girlfriend. This may well be due to Dick plainly hating her guts whilst moping over his ex-girlfriend, who he machetied to death at the end of the first film, which definitely doesn’t help with erectile dysfunction in my experience. However, his new girlfriend is played by none other than Birdemic’s Whitney Moore, which forces me to rethink my negative outlook on female genitalia as I’m certain hers are fantastic.

Okay, fine. I’m wrong. I forgive you lovely women bits. You’re the best. But you penises can stay the fuck away over there with the hall of mirrors and leave me be.

Despite Dick’s girlfriend being played by Whitney Moore (who is obviously hotter than the surface of the sun) he still calls her names (her own fault) and leaves. Once buddied up with Adam, Alister, and Eddie, they all lazily discuss spontaneous ejaculation and the benefits of chronic physical disability, and all is right with the world. Except…Oh no!

Faunz…

…is lurking nearby with a evil plan to kidnap Adam’s yeti son. Dick, not noticing the leering pimp just 10 feet away, decides to follow a gorgeous stripper-type person into a very disgusting looking sex/strip club, which is sparsely populated by both people that look like myself, and a dancer who is in dire need of a holiday, or at least some honest job performance feedback.

Then…joy of joy’s!

Sex Piss!

Sex Piss is of course, doing what he does best. Namely, smoking crack cocaine and mocking those less sexually virile than him. This time the brunt of Sex Piss’ charms are squarely aimed at one Mr Homeless John, who after after inquiry confirms,

“I’m homeless.”

Meanwhile, Dick enters a jack-off booth covered in Troma stickers to pay the paltry sum of just 25c to masturbate to a real human woman called Angel Snowflake, played by non other than real life porn star Phoenix Askani.

Yes, staring at a complete stranger through a pane of glass (that isn’t even a two-way mirror) and whacking one-self off inside a small room previously used by countless other people to whack themselves off, is pretty disgusting I think we can all admit. But 25c?

Whilst Dick is definitely getting a bargain, I don’t think the same can be said for Angel. Think…

…if each customer were to avail themselves of her services for say, 10 minutes at a time, that would work out at the not so princely sum of just $1.50 per hour. Also, I think we can assume that the house would take a 50% cut, which would probably be an underestimate considering that this is the guy who runs the place.

Therefore, this young lady would be left earning a positively shit 75c per hour. Assuming she works full time at 40 hours per week, she would come home with a pathetic $30. Given two weeks of unpaid holidays per year, that would leave this struggling college student with an income of only $1500 per year – nowhere near enough to even live on, never mind pay for her spiraling tuition fees. And now I feel depressed. Let’s hope the proprietor of this fine establishment provides decent benefits…

Once Dick has finished, after only being brought to climax by the stripper mentioning his murdered ex-girlfriend, Sex Piss appears, partaking in what is the Sex Piss equivalent of gainful employment.

“Let me clean up all that slick jizz, bro.”

Look, he hardly went off and became a Fireman after the first film. His name is Sex Piss, come on.

Meanwhile, Adam, who has lied to his friends about what he does for a living, is prancing about on stage in full man-baby getup, in front of an audience full of lusty, yet disgusted men who jeer and eventually mock the size of his penis.

At one point we are introduced to Lumpy, the worlds most forgetful snowman, who may indeed be a snowman, but he’s not abominable, just two-dimentionally animated…

…which forces me to wonder if snowmen count as mythical creatures? Abominable snowmen, yes. But just ordinary snowmen? They’re definitely real. I make them as often as I can, weather permitting. But are they monsters? Or even sentient? Do they belong in a film about gay Yeti sex? Well they obviously don’t have genitalia, right? One second while I go check…

God-damn it.

You might think I’m exaggerating when I say that I’m beginning to lose patience with Duck Duck Go search results, and the internet in general, but seriously, what the FUCK is this thing supposed to be…

Have you ever frowned so hard it gave you a headache?

Anyway…

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