Review Summary: Hey Terrance, did you fart? Why yes, Phillip, I did!
Let’s get something straight before we begin: Matt Stone and Trey Parker are better songwriters than 99% of the pseudo hipster limp-wristed faux electronica indie crap bands most of you listen to. Aside from being talented and witty enough to create the greatest cartoon series in the history of man, Matt and Trey have effectively channeled their overwhelming testosterone into writing kick-ass songs as evidenced by watershed anthems America (F*ck Yeah) from “Team America,” and “Now You’re A Man” from the underrated cult-porno classic “Orgazmo.” We can wax poetic all day about the genius of the Southpark TV series, the sheer awesomeness of “Team America,” and the unadulterated hilarity of “Orgazmo,” but despite the epic scope of these works, none of the projects represented the duo’s creative peak. The pinnacle of their genius was realized in 1999, with “Southpark: Bigger, Longer, and Uncut,” a mind-blowing collision of astonishingly strong film-making and an even more impressive soundtrack. Without retort, the soundtrack for this film is not only the greatest musical in history; it is unmatched in the annals of movie soundtracks. That is unless you think that totally lame, pseudo-intellectual tripe like “Cats” and “Fiddler on the Roof” are more badass than a song called “Shut Your F*cking Face, Uncle F*cka.”
It’s obvious that Stone and Parker can easily pull off anything that calls for vulgarity, campiness, and lines like “you’re a boner biting bastard.” Songs like “Uncle F*cka” were probably written in less than 5 minutes, or at least the lyrics probably were. When the duo gives an idea of just how much of a recalcitrant, overbearing hellcat Sheila Broflawski is on the raging “Kyle’s Mom is a Big Fat Bitch,” its blatantly obvious that it’s the type of song Parker can write either in his sleep or taking a really fast dump. That doesn’t take away from the sheer power of the songs, and both are the cornerstones to both the film and soundtrack, yet neither are considered reaches when in comparison to their “normal” body of work.
Where this project really impresses is it diverges beyond a normal comfort zone and transcends toward majestic, “musical” type pieces that lay waste to their contemporaries while surprising anyone who hears it. The positively soaring “Up There,” a song about Satan getting really sick of being pounded in the ass by Saddam Hussein and thus pining for the blue skies of Heaven is so well done you start thinking “is this SERIOUSLY Trey Parker?” “What Would Brian Boitano Do?” showcases a masterful grasp of composition and straight-up irony. “The Resistance” is gorgeous in both its understated vulgarity and sincerity, resembling a fallen comrade anthem you would find in any awesome War movie, even if the character singing it is kind of a douche. “Its Easy MMMkay” is both lyrically and sonically brilliant, consistently changing tempo and scope while providing a sincere lesson to kids that it’s a hell of a lot better to say “poo” than sh*t and even better if you’re talking about how cold it is.
Without actually hearing it, the music of this film would seem to be something people might enjoy ironically, but not “legitimately.” When it hit, Parker and Stone blindsided everyone with the sheer scope, intelligence, and overall sincerity of this project. In the end, they might be best enjoyed when Terrance and Phillip are trading “cocksucker” insults at each other, but a little group called the Grammy’s decided that this was award-worthy, most notably for album highlight “Blame Canada,” a ferocious piece that may or may not sincerely think “they’re not even a real country any way.” In typical Parker and Stone fashion, they pissed a lot of people off, but anyone who's not an idiot can understand the artistic merit of what is going on here. It would seem difficult to collide lines like “donkey raping sh*t-eater" with heartfelt orchestral power ballads, yet the duo proved they are probably the only people on the planet that could actually pull it off.
