Tacky as it often is, the American rural road descends into downright sleaze when Joel Ross arrives under the cover of night, plants one of his outrageous signs at the side, and shoots his handiwork in garish color. Subtlety is not Ross’ strong suit; his penchant is to take red-state cultural quirks beyond their already elastic limits, sending them up and revealing the repressed expressions lying just beneath the surface. Would we really be shocked and veer off the highway if our headlights happened to fix on a placard reading, “And then Jesus said: Shut the Fuck Up”? More likely, we would be prompted to drive on a ways and take the next right after glimpsing the tempting sign inviting us to visit the “Unisex Bordello.” After we had finished pleasuring ourselves, we would surely continue our trip and follow the polka-dot arrow to the land of “False Promises.” (Michael Weinstein)
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