This whole thing is literally just an experiment by Seth Rogen to see what shit he can cram into an R rating. Graphic juice box vaginal rape? Yep. Explicit living potato skin peeling? Check. Three minutes of nothing but literal, unadulterated food porn featuring quadruple penetration by none other than Seth himself? You bet your sweet tear ducts.
Some sick part of me wants to show this to an Amish community just to see how much PTSD can be wrought by a single film.
In short, here’s the deal: it’s not funny; more often than not just cringe inducing. And I’m not saying minor cringe–I’m saying body-paralyzing, mind-boggling cringe. All the humor is derived from “oh, it’s funny because food is doing it” or “look at the way that jar of mustard just said “cum on me” ohohohoh.” Even by Seth’s standards, this thing is exceptionally lowbrow and devoid of creativity.
Basically, imagine if Ted relied solely on the gimmick of Ted’s animated teddy bear body and used that as the brunt of EVERY joke mixed in with a couple of big boy bad words for accented “humor.” Would that be even remotely funny? Not after the first five minutes, I assure you. Sausage Party is proof of this theory.
-A literal handful of funny moments, one in particular centered around the magical properties of bath salts
-MOUNTAINS of shock value, if that’s your thing
-A good ending with closure
-A lackluster plot accented by the epitome of dumb humor and some of the cringiest shit I’ve ever seen put on a theatre screen. Like, Jesus H Christ, what kind of world do we live in where this shit can be legitimately labeled as a comedy
-It’s just not funny
-It’s just not clever
-Go in on substances or come out disappointed