The devil’s in the lack of attention to details.
The Last Temptation of Toxie isn’t so much a sequel as it is fallout. Not from a nuclear accident this time, but from splitting one overlong, meandering mess of a sequel into two separate films and hoping nobody would notice. The irony is, The Toxic Avenger Part III is the one with all the introspection – a mutant morality play dressed in rubber prosthetics and VHS fuzz, grappling with the soul of a franchise that’s already probably tarnished beyond salvation.
With Tromaville finally scrubbed clean by its mop-wielding mutant mascot, Toxie finds himself obsolete. There’s no crime to smash, no thugs to pulp. The town has become so idyllic it’s practically un-Troma. Which is the film’s cue to bring in its next villain: capitalism, in the form of Apocalypse Inc., a corporate behemoth offering Toxie cash, clout, and moral compromise by the truckload. It’s meant to be a fable of temptation, selling out and redemption, but what it becomes is more of a slow-motion identity crisis with splatter interludes and tax write-off pacing.
Where the first film used sleaze to mock cultural rot, and the second included it out of habit or obligation, The Last Temptation Of Toxie treats its sex and nudity like franchise boiler plate. There’s no real energy to it – no satire, no shock, not even much prurience. It’s autopilot sleaze, listless and half-hearted, like a teenager doodling boobs on the back of a detention slip out of muscle memory. Characters disrobe not because it says anything, but because it’s expected. Somewhere between the half-baked corporate satire and the meandering romantic subplot, the film’s once-raunchy ribaldry collapses into background noise. The nudity, like the satire, now serves less as commentary and more as ballast – something to pad out a runtime rather than puncture the status quo. It’s the first time in the franchise that the sex feels tired before the audience does. When Troma isn’t pushing boundaries, it tends to lounge inside them, and The Toxic Avenger Part III is the moment the lounging overtakes the lashing out.
It doesn’t help that the narrative has all the urgency of a bank advert. Toxie gets rich, grows pompous, and rediscovers his values after a run-in with Apocalypse Inc.’s diabolical plan – which mostly involves corporate gentrification and sub-Police Academy 2 gang violence. Ron Fazio returns as the man in the melted muscle suit, still trying to inject a soul into the slime, but the material gives him precious little to work with beyond motivational speeches and awkward dances. Claire, his blind girlfriend, gets recast again (but at least keeps her name), presumably to further disorient the viewer, though by this point continuity is more of a suggestion than a rule.
The villains – once a grotesque gallery of sadism and sleaze – now feel like offcuts from a mandatory corporate training video on insider trading, despite the return of The Chairman from Part II. The violence likewise remains, but it’s perfunctory and the gore lacks glee. Even the mop, once a symbol of righteous filth-cleansing vengeance, is mostly ornamental. If Part II was unsure in finding its tone, The Last Temptation Of Toxie has given up looking.
Of course, because subtlety has long since left the building, the Chairman eventually reveals himself as Satan incarnate, and Toxie’s final redemption is sealed not through introspection but by surviving the cheaply realised and resolutely New Jersey-based Five Levels Of Doom. It’s the kind of escalation that sounds thrilling on paper but lands with all the impact of a church panto – brimstone effects on a bottle-rocket budget, and moral trials delivered with the urgency of a health and safety video. The film clearly wants to grapple with spiritual stakes, but the resulting Inferno is more Dan Brown than Dante.
And yet, as always with Troma, there are traces of defiance clinging to the wreckage. The critique of corporate corruption is crude but clear, and the temptation of Toxie – selling out not just his town, but his principles – has the bones of something sharper, they’re just submerged beneath a toxic sludge of exposition dumps, recycled gags, and a pacing rhythm best described as “congealed”.
If The Toxic Avenger began as a grimy howl of rage and ridicule, The Last Temptation Of Toxie is the groan of a tired icon wondering whether mop-based morality still plays in a world ruled by mergers and market shares. Still, even in its most sluggish form, the film remains weirdly sincere – a lopsided parable about predatory capitalism and the power of choosing decency over dividends.
