Paul Thomas Chapman
May 2, 2008 
There’s only one meat treat that the dreaded candiru likes to eat, and only Japan would have the temerity to strap a vagina dentata to the end of a naughty tentacle. All this and more can be discovered through the highly educational sexploitation horror/comedy Sexual Parasite, also known by its more explicit original title, Sexual Parasite: Killer Pussy, released on Region 1 DVD by Discotek Media.
I’d be lying if I were to claim that Sexual Parasite is high art, but then again the film never pretends to be anything more than an excuse to intersperse a series of simulated softcore sex acts with scenes of horrendous violence. The narrative is suitably ridiculous: disaster looms when a matched pair of biologists vacationing in the Amazon capture a previously unknown species of mind-control wielding, vagina-inhabiting catfish. The creature breaks free from its Styrofoam prison and infests the lady scientist. Flash forward an indeterminate time later to an undisclosed location in rural Japan, where a quintet of horny hikers accidentally awaken the slumbering sexual parasite while looking for a dry place to get `faced and fool around. Comedy, calamity, and casual nudity ensue.
Although certainly an eclectic film that appeals to an adults-only audience, there is a lot to take away from this movie. Besides the Rubenesque actresses who spare no opportunity to strip out of their already skin-tight clothing, I applaud Sexual Parasite‘s punk rock sensibilities. Never does director Takao Nakano attempt to sugarcoat the film with subtlety or tact. It’s rude, lewd, and in your face, and it offers no apologies. One scene, for example, involves the hikers discovering a stereo. This is mere pretext to allow the buxom young ladies an excuse to bounce up and down to the song “Shedevil on the Wheel” by a musical group called The Maneaters. A more appropriate piece of music-to-movie licensing I can’t imagine, and the extreme close-ups and crazy camera angles leave no doubt as to the prurient purpose of this scene.
And of course there’s the star of the show, the sexual parasite, an improbable nine foot catfish that lurks in an equally improbable place, portrayed in the film by a rubber hand-puppet so ugly as to be almost cute. For a person with budding feminist inclinations, the cinematic revival of the timeless psychological fear represented by the vagina dentata is a breath of fresh air, because it functions both as something horrifying and as a symbol for female sexual empowerment. Say what you will about the typical misogyny in horror movies, it’s impossible not wince when the sexual parasite makes a meal of someone’s manhood. But it’s equally impossible not to chuckle, because every instance of catfish attack is accompanied by the kind of silly ‘CHOMP!’ sound effect you’d expect from a Wile E. Coyote cartoon. Other scenes that should be horrific are played for laughs or titillation, such as when a frantic struggle with the monster effectively transforms into a bout of female mud wrestling, only they substitute blood for mud. The violence, like so much of Sexual Parasite, is a celebration of absurd contradictions, simultaneously erotic and repulsive, grotesque and surreal. But that’s what I’ve come to expect from Takao Nakano, the man responsible for penning The Glamorous Life of Sachiko>Hanai. His pink films are guaranteed to make your face turn red, if you’re brave enough to rent them.
Sexual Parasite does have its disadvantages. It clocks in at only an hour long, and is generally a low budget production, with goofy computer generated special effects, cheap sets, and hammy acting. But what do you expect from a film that features such absurdities as the Candiru Vision InternoCam™? If sex, violence, and myriad and sundry combinations of the two appeal to you, you should consider taking a bite out of Sexual Parasite.
And needless to say, viewer discretion is advised.
