Detailed Instructions: In this task, you are given a text of many news articles seperated by special token "|||||". Your task is to summarize them.
Q: This image released by Sony Pictures shows, from left, Brenda, voiced by Kristen Wiig, Frank, voiced by Seth Rogen, Sammy, voiced by Ed Norton and Lavash, voiced by David Krumholtz in a scene from, "Sausage... (Associated Press) 
  
 This image released by Sony Pictures shows, from left, Brenda, voiced by Kristen Wiig, Frank, voiced by Seth Rogen, Sammy, voiced by Ed Norton and Lavash, voiced by David Krumholtz in a scene from, "Sausage Party." (Columbia, Sony Pictures via AP) (Associated Press) 
  
 It's happened. Someone has outdone the "Team America" puppet sex scene and even made it look somewhat quaint in comparison. Anyone even vaguely interested in the very R-rated animated film "Sausage Party " has likely heard whispers about the food orgy. Words can't even begin to do this sequence justice, but I guarantee you've never seen anything like it in a mainstream studio movie. It's jaw-dropping. 
  
 Of course it's compliments of the minds that blew up a foreign leader in "The Interview" and reveled in the comedy of rape by demon in "This is the End." Yes, co-writers Seth Rogen and Evan Goldberg have used their singular and delightfully twisted imaginations once more to concoct what is easily the year's most audacious film. And it's packaged in animation cutesy enough for Pixar. 
  
 In the grand tradition of "Toy Story," ''Sausage Party" imagines the lives of the foodstuffs in the local supermarket aisle. But it doesn't merely anthropomorphize the food. It gives them sexuality, lust, ethnicities and even religion. "Sausage Party" is just as much a sweet story about belief and faith as it is a vehicle for the filthiest jokes you've never dared imagine. 
  
 Frank (Seth Rogen), a non-descript hot dog, waits somewhat impatiently with his fellow mates to be selected by the gods (humans) to be taken to a paradise in The Great Beyond (purchased). Everyone in the store knows something good is out there waiting. The foods and condiments and sweets begin every day with a rousing song about The Great Beyond and the Gods, each putting their own spin on it (i.e. the German mustard has added a line about exterminating Juice). 
  
 For Frank, it's all about paradise and the chance to match with his soul mate Brenda (Kristen Wiig), a sexy hotdog bun with Barbie legs and a desire equal to Frank's. They're waiting for the gods to choose them before they act on anything. 
  
 Things go awry when they are chosen. A jar of Honey Mustard (Danny McBride) that was returned to the store by a customer is so traumatized by what he's seen "out there" that he jumps out of the cart to his death. A few follow him out of their packages to try to save him and get tossed from the cart, including Brenda, Frank, Sammy Bagel Jr. (Edward Norton, affecting his best Woody Allen), Lavash (David Krumholtz) and a Douche (Nick Kroll), who becomes dead set on killing Frank for preventing him from reaching The Great Beyond. 
  
 And that group goes off exploring — some trying to get back to their spot in the store, some searching for the truth, and some (the Jewish bagel and Middle Eastern flatbread) waxing philosophical on the nature of belief. Those that made it to The Great Beyond, including Frank's hot dog buddy Barry (Michael Cera), experience the horrors of dinner time. 
  
 As in all Rogen and Goldberg films, no matter how raunchy, there is a big heart at the center. It's what distinguishes them from the anything goes satire of Matt Stone and Trey Parker. Anything goes here too, but it's rooted in something deeper and infinitely more earnest. 
  
 "Sausage Party," directed by Greg Tiernan and Conrad Vernon with co-screenwriting credits for Kyle Hunter and Ariel Shaffir, might not be for everyone (especially kids drawn to the posters and perplexed that cute animation might not actually always be for them), but it's a wild good time that will offend, shock and even delight. 
  
 There is no one out there making comedies quite like Rogen and Goldberg. They are putting their definitive stamp on the modern American comedy one decency-smashing double entendre at a time. 
  
 "Sausage Party," a Columbia Pictures release, is rated R by the Motion Picture Association of America for "strong crude sexual content, pervasive language, and drug use." Running time: 89 minutes. Three and a half stars out of four. 
  
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 MPAA Definition of R: Restricted. Under 17 requires accompanying parent or adult guardian. 
  
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 Follow AP Film Writer Lindsey Bahr on Twitter: www.twitter.com/ldbahr ||||| 3 out of 4 stars Title Sausage Party Written by Seth Rogen, Evan Goldberg, Kyle Hunter, Ariel Shaffir Directed by Greg Tiernan, Conrad Vernon Starring Seth Rogen, Kristen Wiig, Michael Cera Genre Animation Classification 18A Country USA Language English Year 2016 
  
 If Mel Brooks went insane, he would make Sausage Party. If everyone at Pixar simultaneously developed an incurable super-disease and decided to say, "to hell with it," they would make Sausage Party. If the head of a major studio wanted to burn Hollywood to the ground as revenge for some unknown slight, they would make Sausage Party. But none of that actually happened – Sausage Party was produced by allegedly rational animators, paid for by a seemingly legitimate studio, and supervised by a supposedly mentally sound and emotionally rational creative team. 
  
 All of which fails to explain how, exactly, the Sausage got made. Because this adults-only cartoon about sentient supermarket items is not only the raunchiest film of the year, nor is it simply the most shocking – it is, without a doubt, the most delirious movie to come out of a major studio in decades, perhaps ever. It is anarchic, outrageous, filthy and, for a good stretch, sublimely subversive. It is all manner of berserk in concept and tone and execution that it's a wonder it was let out the door. But does its unbridled madness mean it's a good movie, too? The answer, like the film itself, is problematic. 
  
 First, there's the conceit, which immediately divides its potential audience: Either you're cool with the idea that hot dogs and tacos and baby carrots can talk (and have feelings and sexual urges and bouts of extreme violence), or that strikes you as irredeemably stupid. Okay, fine, there's the exit. But for those willing to go along with Seth Rogen (and his many co-writers') surely pot-enhanced idea, the rewards are plenty. Because this isn't just a movie about anthropomorphized Twinkies dropping F-bombs or endless wiener-in-bun jokes (though, yes, it is that, too) – Sausage Party is an exercise in extremes, in just how far a big-budget film can push the limits of religion, politics, sex, ethnicity, everything. 
  
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 The insanity begins at Shopwells, a suburban grocery store whose denizens begin each day with a cheery Alan Menken-esque tune (shockingly, by Alan Menken) about achieving salvation via "The Gods" – the fat and frumpy humans who, it is believed, will bestow eternal happiness upon whichever foodstuffs they take home. Eager for this rapture are hot dog Frank (Rogen) and disconcertingly sexy bun Brenda (Kristen Wiig). Once they've been chosen and let loose from their packaging, so the gospel goes, they will be united both spiritually and, um, sexually. 
  
 But then one day along comes a jar of honey mustard, returned to the store after being mistaken for Dijon. And he has terrible tales to share – the Gods, they are crazy. They only want death and destruction, to fuel their insatiable hunger. There is no great beyond, and life, essentially, is a lie. So, pretty heavy stuff for a comedy that's mostly marketed itself as an R-rated barrage of genital jokes – and as the film goes on, Rogen and company only dig deeper into what it means to lose faith, and question one's purpose. 
  
 Yet Sausage Party is not here to just tease existential quandaries – it is determined to mix those concepts into a messy stew of outrageous humour and shocking vulgarity. Thus we get jars of sauerkraut singing about eliminating "the juice," a box of grits holding a grudge against literal crackers, and a piece of lavash flatbread baiting a Woody Allen-sounding bagel over "disputed aisle territory." 
  
 Oh, and there is a subplot about synthetic bath-salt drugs, a gory sequence of food-on-human violence, not one but two Meatloaf/Bat Out of Hell jokes, a hilariously disgusting riff on Saving Private Ryan, and a massive, bewildering sex scene that goes further than anything you might dare imagine. (Yes, even that. And that, too!) 
  
 From one moment of Sausage Party to the next, it's unclear whether you're supposed to laugh or shudder or vomit or take to the streets in wild, fervent protest. The film mixes its remarkable highs with bewildering lows, and the end result is a blunt sense of aftershock. This – how did they make this? We may never know. 
  
 But by the time a stoned Frank turns to Brenda and asks the previously unimaginable question of, "Are you ready to get baked with me and walk through Gum's Stargate?", you'll be glad they did. ||||| Ahead of the August 12th premiere of Seth Rogen’s R-Rated animated comedy “Sausage Party,” a costumed hot dog and bun showed up on Denver Fox affiliate program “Everyday” in one of the weirdest morning show promos we’ve ever seen. 
  
 The two shared an awkward hug before one of the production assistants came over and pretended to spread mustard on the hot dog, much to its mock terror. 
  
 Well, that’s one way to advertise for the film, we guess. 
  
 RELATED: This hilarious “Sausage Party” PSA will change the way you think about barbecue |||||
A:
Just because a film is animated doesn't mean you should take your kids to see it. Case in point: Sausage Party—which delivers more F-bombs in its first minute than one would've thought possible. How do critics feel about talking food items with, um, powerful sexual urges? Here's what they're saying: "It's a wild good time that will offend, shock, and even delight," writes Lindsey Bahr at the AP. It delivers "the filthiest jokes you've never dared imagine," but has "a big heart at the center." "There is no one out there making comedies quite like [Seth Rogen and Evan Goldberg]," she concludes. "They are putting their definitive stamp on the modern American comedy one decency-smashing double entendre at a time." "The food is tasteless, but never bland," as Andrew Lapin puts it. "Expect to see copious substance use, unspeakably foul language, and heavy attention paid to everyone's favorite male organ," he writes at NPR. "But Sausage Party is made with too much loving care (and too much money) to be written off as a dumb stoner Disney parody." This "is not only the raunchiest film of the year, nor is it simply the most shocking—it is, without a doubt, the most delirious movie to come out of a major studio in decades, perhaps ever," writes Barry Hertz at the Globe and Mail. Is that good or bad? If you find the idea of talking baby carrots "irredeemably stupid" you may want to pass, "but for those willing to go along with Seth Rogen (and his many co-writers’) surely pot-enhanced idea, the rewards are plenty." Tirdad Derakhshani had a blast and calls Sausage Party "one of the funniest and most deeply offensive movies of the year." The content "is so outrageous that the most libertarian libertine is liable to be offended at some point," especially as religion is the favorite target, he writes at the Philadelphia Inquirer. But overall, it's a "mind-blowing ride." (The Sausage Party characters recently did "one of the weirdest morning show promos" ever.)