Fantastic Fest 2026 Review: FLAPJAX is Flipping Weird, Fully Grotesque, and From The Heart

From the first frame, Flapjax screams its inspirations. It’s dripping in Troma adoration, slathered in Brian Yuzna’s cosmic juices, and repulsive as a slice of late-night body horror sleaze. It arrives a bit beat-up from the trip; a delivery that’s been trashed and trashed in transit like its courier went through a Fury Road battle. Writer and director Rocko Zevenbergen isn’t here to present a polished, studio-friendly midnighter about the nightmare that is capitalism and the horrors of out-of-this-world pancake addictions. Which, listen, is as rough a gloopy, heartfelt, out-of-bounds slopfest as you can ask for—but goshdarnit, Flapjax has heart that endures.

Arrow Bentley (Gabriel Cagan) is your overly optimistic, annoyingly plucky fast food chain manager who should probably move on but never will. His right hand, Louie (Georgia Kate Haege), would love him to express more ambition and bounce. But Hamudders is Arrow’s sanctuary, and the brand’s latest initiative—to bring back a dangerous stock of pancakes called “Flapjax”—is his only mission. Arrow enlists his guilt-hurling, one-hit-wonder popstar mother Eleanor (Georgia Kate Haege) to perform at the opening, as a grand surprise. Together, they can make Flapjax a nationwide success—but he has no idea of the horribleness his actions might summon.

In tone, text, and do-it-yourself-ness, Flapjax is a spiritual sequel to Lloyd Kaufman’s Poultrygeist: Night of the Chicken Dead. Hell, American Chicken Bunker is referenced in jest multiple times, while Kaufman himself cameos. I say this to drive home what viewers should expect. Flapjax is held together with Scotch tape and papier-mache effects; actors exist in an overselling B-movie bubble that’s not to be taken seriously. Even then, you have to endure lulls to get to the squeamish goodies that await. Flapjax has a pacing problem; it takes nearly forty-seven minutes to reach the first face-melting display of atrocious practical effects (complimentary). Until then, we’re stuck in this hackily saccharine sitcom about jealous mothers, workaholic dummies, and unaddressed emotions.

But that’s also what’s special about Flapjax. As the movie unfolds, Arrow and Eleanor are forced to confront their at-odds feelings—as incestuous as mama’s helicoptering may feel. Or Louie’s inability to rip Arrow away from Hamudders, where the average-wage employee worships at the altar of their mascot, Pauley Pig. Nothing about Flapjax’s gonzo hokiness presents a serious drama, and yet, as the final few scenes crack into the core of perfectionism as a replacement for happiness, it’s hard not to fight a lil’ tear that wants to appear. Zevenbergen tells his story from a wounded, passionate place, which some audiences might shrug off.

And, again, Flapjax won’t win over those who can’t stomach a Troma Lite experience that’s packed with eye-rolls and silliness. For the first thirty-ish minutes, I sat there waiting for the promise of a genre value meal with all the stomach-churning fixin’s to pay off. Zevenbergen’s cast of actors mine bottom-of-the-barrel laughs as they project doofy burger-flipping enthusiasm. It’s an uneven experience that’s begging for genre punches to help spike excitement as the narrative foundation is being laid. You’ll need your patience to enjoy Flapjax, and that’s spoken from someone who owns movies like Mutant Blast or Sator.

Thankfully, once Flapjax morphs from Clerks II: Hamudders to the go-for-broke restaurant takover of the slimy third act, Zevenbergen is unleashed. With the help of co-writer Estevan Muñoz (who plays ditz Zeke), their film enters the gore zone. Flapjax (the product) produces a fluffed-full horde of consumers who subject themselves to cream-based mutations in line with The Stuff, the aforementioned Poultreygeist, and other culinary horrors. Scene after scene gets wilder by the second, unveiling a despicable plot from high atop Hamudder’s porky overlords. Think Malignant, think The Greasy Strangler, think From Beyond—what can I say, Flapjax goes off the rails. But not in a way that destroys the experience. You’re here for the third act, and it never disappoints.

That’s the selling point of Flapjax. When it gets there, holy heckin’ what-the-eff. Arrow’s journey is bumpy—especially with intercut Japanese subplots in black and white—but trust that it’s all working somewhere. As long as you’re happy with mining the deepest depths of indie horror grotesqueries, you’ll be won over by Flapjax. Without that love of no-budget exploitation, you’ll be lost in the cakey swirls of black-and-white treats that otherwise hypnotize us delirious few who gobble up the absurd madness laid naked yet unafraid.

Movie Score: 3/5