Sigurdur Hjartarson in The Final Member (Drafthouse Films)

How do you measure a man?  According to Icelandic folklore, in inches, five to be exact.  This is one of the many questions posed in Jonah Bekhor and Zach Math’s brazenly entertaining documentary, which follows Sigurdur Hjartarson, founder of the Icelandic Phallological Museum, on a quest to complete his collection of mammalian penis specimens.  An endeavor of 34 years, Hjartarson has acquired the penis of a hamster, the genitals of a sperm whale, and everything in between.  Yet he lacks one crucial object: the phallus of Homo sapien.

The donation must be consensual, and few Icelanders are eager to be buried sans manhood.  What many perceive as a grotesque obsession, Hjartarson views as an educational duty.  Hjartarson is a mild-mannered and sober man, who discusses genitalia with the serenity of a monk.  His sense of humor is simultaneously dry and childlike.

In the film’s beginning, he opens a display case brimming with his own wooden carvings—all of them phalluses.  There are serving trays with penis handles and a portable mini-bar, whose encasement is none other than a foot-tall wooden phallus. He shows the viewer these objects as if they are antique encyclopedias.  Despite these comical objects, the museum itself is curated in a scientific and tasteful manner.  The jars of genitals preserved in formaldehyde take on a totemic quality that encapsulates man’s fascination and repulsion with the organ.

Debunking the taboo of the penis, bringing it out it the open for discussion, and offering just good old-fashioned education have always been Hjartarson’s goals.  A former teacher, he has translated monastic texts, founded a preservation society for the Icelandic fox, and written several books.  But his true legacy will only be complete if he can procure the penis of a man.

It was not until 1996 that Pall Arason, a famous Icelandic explorer, reached out to Hjartarson and offered his own to be preserved for the collection upon death. A spry, lecherous little man, he’s reputed to be the greatest womanizer in all of the country, having slept with approximately 300 women.  Upon his introduction, the camera displays him in a black trench and bowler hat against a blue sky.  Shot from below, his shape suggests a phallus itself, though one of a Magritte or Dalí painting.  These sort of visual puns are consistent throughout.

Though there are some very sexist implications at work with Arason’s reputation, namely that a man is revered for how many broads he’s bedded, it’s impossible not to chuckle when a 93-year-old man flips through his photo album, remarking that so-and-so had great breasts and ass.  It may be machismo, but Pall’s age and physical state have rendered it tepid and endearing.

Hjartarson is thrilled that the first human penis in his collection will be that of an esteemed native citizen, but there is a kink in the plan.  Due to Arason’s age, shrinkage may have decreased his size, and Hjartarson fears he will not meet the “legal length” required for donation. (According to an Icelandic folktale, a woman paraded her husband in front of authorities, berating him for his inadequate size.  She demanded there be a “legal length” of no fewer than five inches… a sort of quality of life issue. ) So Hjartarson continues his search for a man of such measure.

Enter Tom Mitchell.  This Californian ranch owner is perhaps the most fascinating focal point of the film.  At age 60, Mitchell claims to have long dreamed of his penis, which he refers to as “Elmo,” residing in a museum to enthrall the public. A case of stupefying narcissism, Mitchell harasses Hjartarson about such details as the display case Elmo will rest in, merchandise that can accompany the installation, and the potential of getting Elmo shipped back to California in the museum’s off season.  Though as intriguing as these details are, they pale in comparison to his most extreme request. The psychological dilemma lends the film material that would have Freud and Lacan leaping with excitement.

What began as Hjartarson’s desire to culminate his life’s work leaves him in the uncomfortable role of referee.  He’d ideally like Arason to be the final member, but Tom’s size and willingness to donate immediately are irresistible.  The film shifts from a study of the human obsession with all things penis to a ludicrous arms race between Team America and Team Iceland.

The subjects tell their stories with ease and openness, and the entire issue is dealt with in a well-rounded manner.  What could be so easily mangled with irreverence is handled with compassion, sincerity, and just the right amount of humor.

I dare you to sit through this film and not enjoy it.