Oh, to have been a fly on the wall of that (very likely smoke-filled) room where the concept for Sausage Party was first tossed around. An animated feature written by the reigning emperors of stoner comedy—Evan Goldberg and Seth Rogen—along with Kyle Hunter and Ariel Shaffir, the film is based around the adventures of anthropomorphic shopping market items. Ridiculous to the max and packed with uber-crass sexual and scatological humour and digs at racial and ethnic stereotypes, it’s very much the sort of thing you’d expect from the duo behind such films as Superbad, Pineapple Express and This Is the End. But, get this, Sausage Party, directed by Greg Tiernan and Conan Vernon, also happens to be unexpectedly thought-provoking, touching knowingly on matters of religion, morality and intolerance. I know it’s hard to reconcile a film with walking/talking hot dogs and buns with political and existential philosophising, but there you go. And the result is a cartoon that is simultaneously stupid and smart, absurd and inspired, and pretty darn entertaining overall.

It’s opening hour at the Shopwell store and its inhabitants—fruit, veg, processed and all—are gearing up for their early-morning ritual, namely, a song praising the “gods” (re: human shoppers). You see, the foodstuffs believe that if they can stay clean and sin-free on their shelves, these gods will choose them, place them in their shopping carts and wheel them into the Great Beyond, the promised land that lies outside those sliding glass doors. Our sausage protagonist Frank (Rogen) has been waiting to be freed of his plastic encasing so he can finally get together with Brenda (Kristen Wiig), the curvy hot dog bun he’s been in a long-distance relationship with for a while now. And with the fourth of July approaching, the two are certain they’re going to be among the lucky chosen this time.

A newly returned jar of honey-mustard (Danny McBride), however, throws a spanner in the works. The poor thing has awful stories to tell of his brief time in the Great Beyond—far from nirvana, he’s discovered that what actually awaits them in the afterlife is grisly torture and pain at the hands and mouths of their greedy, guzzling gods. No one wants to believe him, though, until he causes a shopping-cart accident that forces Frank and Brenda out of their packages and onto a quest across the supermarket to discover the truth about what happens to edibles when they’re taken out of the store. Along the way, they’ll make the acquaintance of a bickering Jewish bagel (Edward Norton) and an Arabic lavash (David Krumholtz), a Latina taco (Salma Hayek) with lesbian inclinations, a group of old-timer non-perishables, and a douche (Nick Kroll), who turns out to be, well, very much a douche. 

There’s clearly very little that Sausage Party considers sacred; it gleefully lampoons everything from organised religion to the Israel/Palestine conflict to fascism (that would be the sauerkraut jars marching against the “juice”), piling on the sociopolitical stereotypes with wild, unapologetic abandon. But amid all the offensive and determinedly politically-incorrect jokes, the film’s core message is surprisingly sharp and nuanced, and more importantly, emerges organically. Of course, the idea that life might ultimately be meaningless and that religion serves only to distract the masses from the true horrors of the world and placate them through illusory fantasies about elaborate post-death scenarios is not ground breaking by any means, but the novelty of the setting here makes it feel freshly subversive.

Indeed, part of the fun of watching Sausage Party is the sheer shock of hearing these very adult, and often very filthy, dialogues mouthed by such seemingly innocent Pixar-esque animated characters—big, round eyes and white gloves and all—it’s the South Park-effect all over again, characterised by the clash between the cutesy aesthetics and the mature content. It truly feels like Rogen and his cronies have located a medium perfectly suited to their needs, where they get to be as crass and as irreverent as they please without having to worry as much about the consequences as they would with a regular live-action feature.

As for the visuals themselves, there’s a lovely attention to detail here: the supermarket, for instance, where most of the film unfolds, is a vast world unto itself—sectioned off into different territories much like the real world, inhabited by different (often disputing) communities—and a lot of work has visibly gone into giving these varied enclaves a distinctive atmosphere and character each. That is, in no small part, also thanks to some solid voice work by a large ensemble of actors. Rogen is his usual gruff, likeable self as our hero, and Wiig, as always, is hilarious as the object of his affections. Kroll, Hayek, Norton and Krumholtz are also terrific in their roles, as are the many other cameos, including by Michael Cera, Bill Hader and a particularly hilarious appearance by Meatloaf as a ballad-pounding meatloaf.

Given the disappointment that was their last collaboration, the overhyped but underwhelming The Interview in 2014, Sausage Party can be seen as offering Goldberg and Rogen and their comedic associates something by way of redemption.

Of course, the film can be a touch on a smug side at times, and the commentary occasionally a bit on-the-nose. But it’s also inventive, witty and genuinely funny for the most part. Just make sure you’re not fooled by those benign posters into letting any kids near this stuff. The protracted “happy ending” sequence alone is reason enough to keep the little ones away.