Writer/Director David Wnendt’s Wetlands is the gross-out movie of the year, intentionally designed to see how many times an audience member will turn away from the screen or just leave. (It may have a life as a Midnight Movie at which viewers are encouraged to bring rotten tomatoes to throw at the screen.)
The story, as such, involves Helen Memel (Carla Juri), who abjures hygiene, has hemorrhoids she likes to pick at, sticks her fingers in all her orifices and then licks them, will have sex with anyone, including vegetables and loves to slosh around in dirty toilets. Sound appetizing? I assure you, it's not.
The unfortunate had a bad upbringing with a crazed mother, who didn’t catch her when she told her to jump, cut her eyelashes because people complemented them and attempted a Sylvia Plath with her little brother. Daddy just wasn’t there for her.
If you’re looking for entertainment, look elsewhere. However, if you’re a budding therapist, you might see some value in learning how far a person can go to debase him or herself.
It wasn’t cool or camp. It was just crap. I give Wetlands a 1 out of 5.