Seth Rogen Throws a Hilarious “Sausage Party” For Foodies and Foes Alike

But here’s the genius twist-Rogen and his co-writer Evan Goldberg pull a Disney on us and thread the 84-minute film with a moral to the story about accepting other people’s differences and learning to live together.

Yet Sausage Party is not here to just tease existential quandaries – it is determined to mix those concepts into a messy stew of outrageous humour and shocking vulgarity.

Trouble is, talking about the movie is like describing a dream or a hallucinogenic drug experience – the language doesn’t really cover it.

Perhaps you glanced at a poster for the movie or caught a trailer and thought: “Oh, that seems cute and cheeky and harmless”. “Our fear was that it would create this big negotiation process where we ultimately had to butcher the f–ing thing. we probably added six things into the orgy that we were like, okay, these are our sacrificial lambs, they are the chips that we’re willing to lose, and we lost like, an eighth of one of them”. The story centers on Frank (Rogen), a packaged sausage, and his neighbor, s hot dog bun Brenda (Kristen Wiig). They are putting their definitive stamp on the modern American comedy one decency-smashing double entendre at a time. One must not disobey the gods!

The premise, that sentient food items think they’re going to a heaven-like “great beyond” when they’re purchased, is a rather scathing commentary on religious fervor. But Frank of little faith has some questions about the myth, and when a returned jar of Honey Mustard (Danny McBride) raves about the apocalyptic murder and destruction of kitchens, Frank sets into motion a plan to save himself and Brenda from this fate.

A cart accident – clean up on aisle three! – is shot with all the agony and gravitas of a war movie. There’s a scene in particular where Frank gives irrefutable proof that they’re all doomed, and despite that proof, everyone chooses to believe in the power of “God” and life after Shopwell’s until their own apocalypse comes raining down on them. Brenda dares not ask. David Krumholtz, who voiced the character Lavash, estimated that there are at least 100 genitalia jokes throughout the movie.

There’s something sort of unsettling about seeing the orgasmic look on a hot dog’s face as it slips into a bun, like maybe you’ll never feel quite the same way at a barbeque again. The only difference is lots and lots of silly, obscene and ridiculously R-rated comedy.

After a while, however, even talking condoms and douches cease to be amusing, and the movie essentially runs out of steam.

After spending most of its 89 minutes on a campaign of shock and ew, the movie has the nerve to close with a message of tolerance: Let’s put aside our differences, “Sausage Party” preaches, for the sake of national unity.

Too bad they can’t see it without an adult.