I’ve seen my share of gross out horror comedies. I’ve even
been a party to some. There is a fine line that needs to be trod in order for
these to be successful. When you’re dealing with subject matter like I.B.S.
(which, in real world parlance, stands for irritable bowel syndrome) does, that
line is even thinner. In all honesty, the film could have worked with a little
more care and attention to detail. There are two ways for a film with this
initial concept (the tag line is “When he’s gotta go, you gotta go”) to work.
Either screw it up so bad and give the entire filmmaking world the finger on
your way to cult movie status OR produce a fine-looking film that revels in its
wrong-ness despite the quality. I.B.S. lets loose right down the middle
and, if I may be so bold, would have benefited from a courtesy flush.