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6.2/10
Senior Film Conservator
A definitive 6.2/10 rating for a film that redefined the boundaries of cult cinema. The Peanut Vendor remains a cornerstone of transgressive art.
If you have five minutes and want to see something that feels like a glitch in a 1930s projector, sure. If you’re looking for a coherent narrative or anything resembling a normal film, you will probably hate it. It’s basically just a song, a monkey, and a lot of shouting about legumes.
I didn't expect to spend my afternoon watching a monkey sell peanuts, but here we are. The whole thing has this frantic, desperate energy. The monkey—who is clearly the star here—seems to know his time is running out. He’s pushing these peanuts like his life depends on it. Maybe it does? 🥜
There’s a strange, almost hypnotic rhythm to the singing. It’s repetitive, but in that way that gets stuck in your brain for three days straight. It reminded me a bit of the chaos in Monkey Business, but with way less plot and way more nuts.
The pacing is bizarre. It doesn't build up to anything. It just starts at a 10 and stays there until the screen goes black. It feels like someone took a frantic street performance and decided to preserve it for posterity. Why? I don't know.
It’s not as polished as The County Chairman, but it has this weird, unrefined charm. It’s like a commercial that was filmed during a mild panic attack. I don't think I'll watch it again, but I'm glad I saw it at least once. Sometimes you just need to watch a monkey sell peanuts to reset your brain, right?
It’s definitely not art. But it’s also not boring. That’s a win in my book. 🐒