Trash, which follows Flesh in the Paul Morrissey-Andy Warhol-Joe Dallesandro trilogy, is every bit as off-putting as its predecessor. Again, those who have an aversion to extensive nudity and frank sex should leave the premises before the first frame, and should be joined by those who cannot stomach graphic depictions of drug use. Trash, however, is a step up from Flesh in terms of its technical side; while still far from "professional," its camerawork and sound are more controlled and purposeful. It also gives the impression of featuring a more coherent plot, but in truth it is still a series of vignettes loosely tied to a motivating factor. However, there is considerably more action in Trash. There is also a magnificent chemistry between Dallesandro and Holly Woodlawn, who gives a love-it-or-hate-it performance that is full of bizarre life. Dallesandro is once again a low-key performer, at times irritating, but the guilelessness of his performance is perfect in the context of the film. The general level of acting is also appreciably higher than in Flesh, with memorable turns from Michael Sklar and Andrea Feldman. Many will be turned off by the film, but those cultists who embrace it do so honestly -- there's a raw fascination to the film, a method to Morrissey's madness. He's not interested in creating a "good" film; he's interested in creating a personal film that bears an indelible stamp, and in that he succeeds brilliantly.