Fucktoys ★★★

Unruly, absurdist, and full of salacious irony, Annapurna Sriram‘s debut feature makes a very clear point of breaking the rules. But beneath all the craziness and kinks lies a surprisingly heartfelt exploration of friendship, exploitation, and survival in a society unable to differentiate between authenticity and paid performance. The latter is basically the job of AP (played with unabashed vigor by Sriram herself). The young sexworker is convinced she has been cursed (you’d believe, too, if three different mentalists had told you so). 

Fucktoys (stylized as FTOYS) is an unruly, surreal portrait of friendship, exploitation, and survival in a society that confuses performance with authenticity. Premiering in 2025, the film marks Sriram — previously known for her work in theatre and television — as an uncompromising filmmaker with a distinctive voice. Her approach is raw but deliberate, messy by design, anchored by an earnest engagement with sex work, power dynamics, and emotional damage. To prevent further damage – her teeth already start falling out, like a nasty real-life version of that nightmare almost everyone has – she must lift the curse with some professional help. This procedure will require 1000 dollars and the sacrifice of a baby lamb. 

Lacking both, she turns to Danni (Sadie Scott), a long-estranged friend and possible love interest in a collapsing social order. Their journey, equal parts road trip and descent, takes them into the underbelly of an entertainment-obsessed dystopia where capital provides intimacy and vice versa. Set in an unnamed urban sprawl riddled with detritus, decadence and desperation, the story dives into repurposed marginal spaces. Neon-soaked back alleys lead to salvation, public bathrooms double as confessionals, and diner booths become negotiation tables. There’s a conscious ugliness to the film’s aesthetic, but also honest affection for the outsiders navigating it. Those characters at the bottom of the social picking order reveal brittle humor and stubborn grace, those at the top cowardice and crumbling egos. 

Though influences of John Waters, Gregg Araki, and Harmony Korine are visible, Sriram shows a social insight and self-critique her white male film colleagues lack. Provocation for its own sake doesn’t interest her. Instead she probes into the specific psychology of different positions within late-capitalist collapse. The playful plot consists of a series of commercial encounters supposed to earn AP the 1k. Danni, doubling for her friend, meets self-styled artist and TV star James Francone (Brandon Flynn), who is a walking critique of narcissism dressed up as meaning-making. Another memorable episode pairs AP with an old regular customer who is pitifully panicked of harming his immaculate social facade. 

There are moments where FTOYS loses focus. Side characters are introduced with promise and dropped without resolution, and some sequences strain under their own symbolism. But even when the narrative falters, the mood rarely does. Shot in bright clashing colors with a grainy immediacy, the rebellious romp maintains a fractured, lived-in texture that perfectly suits its themes. A mix of punk, synth, and distorted ambience creates a vibrant score gliding smoothly between tenderness and aggression. Among grime and gaudiness hides an unusually honest engagement with the cost of getting by in a world consumed by consumerism. Not only for a work carrying its playful sexiness in its title, FTOYS is ultimately very sincere.