Frank seeks out Firewater and finds him with his friends (“we’re the non-perishables, motherfucker!” says one), and discovers the truth of the Great Beyond. Back on the shelf, Honey Mustard (Danny McBride) tries to tell his friends what really happens at mealtimes but he’s unceremoniously shut down by a carton of Firewater (Bill Hader).Īfter an altercation the sausages and buns are bought with some groceries but Frank the hot dog sausage (Seth Rogen) and his girlfriend Brenda the Glamour Bun (Kristen Wiig) are accidentally left behind, much to their distress. They don’t realise that while they will be loved, it’ll be in a sauce with some mashed potato on the side.īut then Honey Mustard (and what a great porn name that is) makes it back to the shop, returned when his god realised he had bought the wrong kind of condiment. The supermarket products are under the misguided impression that once they are chosen by one of the Gods (humans – wow it feels good to get some proper respect at last as I do the weekly shop) they are taken to the Great Beyond, outside of the store’s automatic doors, to a wonderful life where they will be cherished and loved. There’s also a journey home, back to the Shopwell supermarket, against the odds – though in time for the 4th of July rather than Thanksgiving. And let’s face it who doesn’t get peckish after sex.įor some of them their journey is an even more terrifying one though – a trip straight to hell, as they find out the hard way that dinner time in a suburban kitchen is more slasher horror film than happy family movie hugfest. In between it is, of course, a journey, literally to the Dark Aisle for a motley assortment of foods who gradually bond and become true friends, and then shag each other. It looks fun, though I’m not sure I’d have wanted to be one of those holey cartoon cheeses. Sausage Party starts with a cheery song to start the day, a sweet and innocent ditty with only a few mentions of fucking and they’re from the sausages and well, what do you expect? And the film finishes with a full-on food orgy where every orifice has a complimentary foodstuff. Though the only sex references would be in the artisanal sourdough. This film, filled to the brim with sex and swearing, has been a real eye opener for me. My local supermarket is so posh that its version of Sausage Party would be like Downton Abbey, with a Duchy Originals organic egg from Prince Charles’s hens falling in love with a rather cheaper Waitrose Essentials white finger bun.
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