As much as I'd like to protest that I don't just watch modern day video nasties, here comes a quick and dirty write-up about KFC to provide a counterpoint. This 2016 film by Vietnamese director Lê Bình Giang—which apparently premiered in Vietnam back in 2012, at least according to IMDb—is a short little ride at just a little over an hour, but it manages to pack in enough gross-out moments to make you second guess chowing down on a drumstick while watching.
KFC is billed as an omnibus of sorts, and while it comes off at first glance as a bitch's brew of unsavory and violent vignettes, there is an inkling of a narrative throughline to be found. At the heart of it all is a twisted little group with a doctor who is… unethical, to say the least, in the lead. They serve as the impetus for introducing the audience to other ne'erdowells who do their best to push the boundaries of good taste—cannibalism, rape, torture; you name it—in as brief a timespan as humanly possible.
The grislier moments come in short bursts, often unexpectedly so, but what really makes KFC stand out is a distinct air of detachment from it all. It's one thing to present violence in a way that supposes the audience is already desensitized, but in KFC it's abundantly clear that the characters themselves are, too. It's like they're all committing horrific acts upon themselves and others in a wholly disembodied manner, staring at the scattered and ruined remnants from above and not really giving a damn about the consequences.
As for the connection with Kentucky Fried Chicken, well, let's just say the proof is right there on screen. While it seems like a completely batshit business move to sponsor such a grody little grinder of a flick, the Colonel might as well have ponied up the dough himself (that's gotta be tainted plantation money, right?). We've got the chicken itself and a branded soft drink cup in the first scene, scenes set within a KFC restaurant complete with KFC employee uniforms; what more do you want? KFC might not want to own up to it, but I'm going to go ahead and consider this to be a tacit endorsement.
With that said, the film is sure to make it extremely known before any footage plays that this is a work of fiction. In fact, it repeats this declaration three times at the very beginning, which I took as either a legal imperative or a genuinely funny gag. Beyond that disclaimer awaits a structurally interesting film that ticks the boxes of tastelessness while showing glimpses of something more beyond the gore, both on screen and implied. It may not be something I revisit often, but I'll be thinking about it for a while.
