Dark comedy Choke (based on Chuck Palahniuk’s novel) opens
with self-satisfied narration from protagonist Victor (Sam Rockwell).
The phrase “Even the worst blow job is better than…sniffing the
greatest rose” is sandwiched between equally detached, oh-so-shocking
observations. Victor skips out on his Sex Addicts’ Anonymous meeting to
have bathroom sex and supplements his income by self-inducing public
choking fits, so benevolent strangers will save him, develop protective
feelings towards him, and subsequently send money. But Choke (the directorial debut of David Mamet player Clark Gregg) surprises.
Victor’s a self-admitted shit, but he hand-feeds his dementia-ridden
mother (Anjelica Huston) and uses his ill-gotten funds to keep her in a
fancy private facility, so he’s a shit who’s capable of kindness
(though his most selfless moment does occur following an illicit
hand-job in a barn). Victor’s capacity for redemption, his sweet,
compulsive-masturbator friend (Brad William Henke) and Gregg and
Palahniuk’s understanding that historical recreation villages are
potentially hilarious make a film that could’ve been a pointless
exercise in subversion relatively worthwhile. (Watch it and you won’t
hate yourself in the morning.) Lindsay McCarney
This article appears in Mar 12-18, 2009.