Coupling with the rubbish bins, breaking and devastating abandoned houses and firing firecrackers on deserted streets, continuing to emit strange and shrill sounds or singing disturbing and senseless rhymes; spying at night from the windows of the houses, playing basketball in provincial fields with dressed-up children that entertain themselves by dragging and torturing dolls, the figures of “Trash Humpers” are presences, ghost and monstrous expression of a social depression of which we too often wish not to see the crudest expression.
Wonderfully dirty, casual, senseless, ugly, brutal, restless, badly done, the narrative and formal extremization constituted by “Trash Humpers” serves perhaps to a single purpose, that of putting ourselves through his images in front of the lack of sense of a society now incapable of being beyond the performance of the show and the story itself. An incapacity so industrious that only the extreme is necessary and true.