They say there's no accounting for taste, and here to prove it is The Greasy Strangler. A fringe-inhabiting genre provocation destined for a self-selecting audience with strong stomachs, co-writer/director Jim Hosking's feature-length whatsit tests sensibilities, but Hosking forgets that oddity isn't a substitute for quality.
The film offers a chance to see Los Angeles as you've never cared to before via Big Ronnie's Disco Tours, a family business run by middle-aged Brayden (Sky Elobar) and his father Big Ronnie (Michael St. Michaels). We first meet the business partners/roommates in the latter's bedroom, their guts hanging over their underwear as they discuss the merits of grease (or lack thereof: Brayden reports that too much of the ubiquitous substance is unhealthy, which he read in a fitness magazine found on a bus). "You're such a gross-out," the younger of the two says to his oil-obsessed father in a moment of pure audience surrogacy. "I think I might barf." Take it as a sign of things to come, if not an outright warning.
The title alludes to Big Ronnie's nighttime activities: covering himself in mounds of buttery grease, ending some poor soul's life with his bare hands and cleansing himself by walking through a drive-through car wash. In between, father and son fight over the affections of a woman many years their junior (Elizabeth De Razzo) whom they first met during one of their tours. Rinse, repeat, and on The Greasy Strangler goes for 90 minutes of increasingly diminishing returns.