House of Self-Indulgence

Claudia Jennings! Claudia... motherfuckin' Jennings! Your stay on this earth may have been cut tragically short (1949-1979), but your body of work will live on forever. The second film in my self-realized "Jean Short Trilogy,"Unholy Rollers finds Claudia Jennings quitting her soul-crushing factory job to join "The Avengers." No, not those Avengers, silly (though, I think Mrs. Jennings would have been great as Dazzler). Anyway, I don't know 'bout you, but I think Claudia's spunky, take no shit attitude was perfectly suited for the early 1970s. Now, I'm not exactly sure what was going on in 1972, but the misplaced anger, civil unrest and the general sense of malaise that was sweeping the U.S.A. during this particular period is represented rather accurately by a "sport" called roller derby. Sort of like wrestling on wheels, it makes sense that roller derby (which is still played today) would thrive during the early 1970s. With bloody battles in Vietnam still raging, the American people needed a mindless escape to distract them from the horrors of war, and what better way to do so than to watch lesbians beat the crap out of one another on roller-skates?

I know, I know, when does Claudia Jennings wear jean shorts. Keep your panties on, I'll get to that in a minute. I just want to examine the climate of the era. And, looking over what I just typed, I think I examined the era's climate to the best of my ability.

Unlike 'Gator Bait, Claudia Jennings' delicious lower-half doesn't spend the entire film encased in cut-off jean shorts. Now, before you start screaming rip off, I should inform you that Claudia Jennings' wardrobe in this movie is off the hook in terms of variety.

On top of her trademark orange and black L.A. Avengers roller derby uniform (black shorts with orange tights), Claudia can be seen in a wide array of outfits. And, yes, one of these outfits includes jean shorts.

Flowery hippie dresses, watermelon adorned shirts, mini-dresses, tank-tops, mini-skirts, and sweaters that employ colour blocking, Claudia Jennings' character's sense of fashion is just as fearless as her temperament.

Unafraid to utilize physical violence to get her point across, Claudia Jenning's Karen Walker has a short temper. And as we're shown on several occasions throughout this film, it doesn't much to set her off.

You know when you're in the grocery store trying to buying your favourite wheat-based cereal and the person minding the check out counter decides to go on their break just as you're about to make your purchase? Well, instead of calmly moving over to an open check out counter like most people, Karen Walker threatens to punch the break taking cashier with her fists.

The fact that Karen Walker is wearing a pink floral hippie dress with white go-go boots when she makes this threat only manages to amplify her awesomeness. Why can't I be more like Karen Walker, I thought to myself, as she stood up for her right to be served.

If you think Karen Walker is tough when she's in the express line at the supermarket, you should see her on the roller derby track.

As I was trying to remember the rules of the game, it dawned me that I used to watch a roller derby TV show called "RollerGames." Even though my memory of the show is mostly Kool Moe Dee-related, he famously performed "I Go To Work" (a.k.a. the second greatest hip hop song of all-time, the greatest being, of course, N.W.A.'s "Straight Outta Compton") during a lull in the roller derby action, I do recall seeing men and women on roller skates pummeling one another.

After quitting her job at the cat food factory she works (she was in charge of "chicken velocity," whatever that means), Karen Walker tries out for L.A. Avengers, a local roller derby team.

Oh, it should be noted that when Karen quits her job, she throws a bunch of cans of cat food at her boss, and later on, while grocery shopping with her stripper pal/roommate, Donna (Candice Roman), she knocks over a large of stack of canned goods... totally on purpose. I'm not noting this in order to point that Karen has a thing against cans, I'm pointing it out because I think she has serious anger issues. Which makes her the perfect candidate for roller derby.

No one will disagree that anger is important, but the main reason Karen makes the squad is because she, according to Mr. Stern (Louis Quinn), the owner of the the Avengers, knows how to play to the crowd. In other words, she's got showmanship. And she looks great in cut-off jean shorts.

While the scenes at the cat food factory and the supermarket do an excellent job of showcasing Karen's problem when it comes to containing her rage, the scene at the strip club Donna works seems to serve no purpose whatsoever. Other than allowing us to see Claudia Jennings in a super-sexy tiger print dress, I can't think of single reason why this scene exists. (Um, then why are you typing words about it?) Um, hello? Claudia Jennings wears a short tiger print dress... with the white go-go boots. (Ah.)

If you're not like me, and you didn't watch RollerGames back in the day, and have no idea how the game is played, we're given a quick roller derby refresher course in the next scene.

After the lesson is over, Karen goes to see the roller derby doctor to... get felt up basically. The best thing about Karen's doctor visit (besides her being felt up) is that her bra and panties don't match.

What's great about Claudia Jennings in 'Gator Bait and Unholy Rollers is that she doesn't seem to shirk from doing her own stunts. While it's clear that Claudia was the one driving the boat in 'Gator Bait, it's even clearer that Claudia is doing her own skating in the Unholy Rollers. And this gave an unexpected layer of authenticity to the proceedings.

Picking the number three, Karen Walker quickly becomes a fan favourite amongst the L.A. Avenger faithful. This, of course, causes some of her teammates to become jealous, particularly their star jammer, Micky (Betty Anne Rees). Some teammates, however, like, Nick (Jay Varela), see Karen for what she really is: a foxy, forthright, force of nature.

Wow, it says here that Martin Scorsese was the film's "supervising editor." No wonder the skating scenes are so well put together.

I can't decide what I liked better, the sight of Claudia Jennings watching an ad her character does for the "Amazing Rocket Chair" in black pantyhose or the sight of her watching an ad she did for a pen company in orange socks, yellow shorts, a top covered in sail boats and wearing pink rollers in her hair. Hmm, as much as I love black pantyhose, I'm going to have to go with the pink rollers scene, as she gives herself the middle finger at the end of the pen TV spot.

On the surface, it's your typical rise and fall story (Karen Walker let's fame go to her head). But the film is trashy in all the right places, boasts a terrific lead actress (unlike the charisma-challenged dullards who appear in Andy Sidaris' movies, Claudia Jennings gives ex-Playboy models turned actresses a good name), and is filled with lots of exciting roller derby action.

In most movies, when a character stumbles upon the body of a naked woman at the local dump, their first instinct is to call the authorities. Well, how should I put this? The Dark Backward is not even close to being most movies. In fact, it's unlike anything I've ever seen. Oh, sure, parts it reminded me of Eraserhead (and I'm not just saying this because it mentions it on the film's poster), Blade Runner, Shredder Orpheus, The King of Comedy and Dr. Caligari. But the film, written and directed by Adam Rifkin (Detroit Rock City), is definitely a unique experience. Don't believe me? Um, Judd Nelson plays a struggling stand-up comic whose best friend is a chubby chasing, accordion-playing garbageman played by Bill Paxton. Any questions? I don't mean to toot my own horn (or squeeze my own accordion), but what was great about that last sentence is that I didn't need to allude to the fact that Judd Nelson's character grows a third arm. What's not so great about that last sentence is the fact that I called Bill Paxton's character a "chubby chaser." Trust me, he ain't no chubby chaser. The chicks he bangs in this movie are beyond chubby. Not to get too graphic, but I think Pickles' left bicep weighs more than me (Pickles being, of course, one of the morbidly obese women Bill Paxton mounts-thanks to sheer industriousness-and ultimately fucks in this movie).

Wait, that wasn't graphic at all. What I should have was: I think Pickles' rarely seen labia weighs more than me ("rarely seen" because it's shielded by a mountain range of abdominal flesh). While not factually accurate (her labia doesn't gain weight, and, hence, it does not weigh more than me), I think most people will agree that labias are funnier than biceps. Actually, anything cunt-based is a hundred times funnier than anything arm-based; just ask jazz aficionado Soupy Sales. Whatta you mean he's dead? Criminy.

It's too bad Marty Malt (Judd Nelson) and I weren't best friends, as I could have taught him a thing or two about comedy. Instead, he's best friends with a guy named Gus (Bill Paxton), a sycophantic cheerleader who fills Marty's head with delusional nonsense on a daily basis. The biggest delusion being that he's actually funny.

They say the majority of comedy comes from pain, and it looks like Marty Malt is going to find this out the hard way when a painful nodule on the middle of his back grows into a human arm. I know, I said cunt-based humour is superior to arm-based humour. But arm-based humour is nothing to sneeze at. Granted, I can't think of any comedians off the top of my head who have had successful careers utilizing arm-based humour in their act. But I don't see why someone couldn't. I mean, arms can be funny, especially if you know a how to flail them properly.

I'm sorry, I'm trying to figure out why I compared The Dark Backward to Blade Runner a couple of paragraphs ago. The others I can sort of see. But Blade Runner? I'm just not seeing it. Hold on, I just remembered. When Marty and Gus are leaving Syd's comedy club after another terrible/awesome show, the camera hovers over this rooftop. And as we're doing so, I spotted a pile of dust-laden trash. Well, in Blade Runner, when Deckard is entering the police station, the camera hovers over the roof of Bryant's office. Anyone care to guess what's on the roof of Bryant's office? That's right, dust-laden trash.

Though, I think it's safe to say that The Dark Backward beats the snot out of Blade Runner in terms of garbage. Seriously, this film is wall-to-wall trash. And I mean that as a compliment.

Did I mention that Gus forces two of his morbidly obese girlfriends to eat dog food off his nipples?

Introduced to the "comedy stylings" of Marty Malt right off the bat, a sweaty Judd Nelson takes the stage at Syd's, a local club that seems to cater to the over 75 crowd. Telling a joke about buying stamps and one where his pet turtle turns out to be a rock, things are going pretty bad for the comedian in the pea green suit. Or are they? According to his accordion-playing pal Gus, he was hilarious and tells him afterward that the audience was laughing on the inside.

I'm thinking that Gus is either humouring his friend or that he has serious mental problems. I'm leaning more toward the latter. Judging by Gus' overall demeanour, he seems to have a few screws loose. (You mean he ain't hooked up right?) That's exactly what I mean, and Bill Paxton plays up Gus' insanity to the hilt. If you're like me and thought Bill's wacky antics were the best things about Aliens and Near Dark, you'll love his performance in this film, as he makes Nic Cage's gonzo turn in Deadfall seem restrained.

One of the keys to impressing me, cinema-wise, is the ability to create a world unto itself. And The Dark Backward manages to do that and then some. Shirking nationalism and popular culture, the film has its own ecosystem.

Take, for instance, the whole "Blump's" thing. Now, I'm not entirely sure what Blump's is, but they seem to have cornered the market for pretty much everything. Whether it be squeezable bacon, pork juice, beef, scab medicine, cigars/cigarettes, lemon fresh suppositories or cheddar-scented cheese, Blump's have got you covered.

Even Marty and Gus seem to be under the thumb of Blump's, as they work for their sanitation division. Though, I have to say, they're not very good at their jobs (the bulk of the trash they pick up rarely ever makes it into the back of the garbage truck).

One day, as they're out on their route, Gus notices a lump in the middle of Marty's back. No biggie, right? It's just an insect bite. After Gus molests a corpse at the dump, Marty takes a second stab at Syd's club. And like the opening set, it does not go well, as the geriatrics in the audience remain stone-faced throughout his painfully unfunny act.

While Marty has Lara Flynn Boyle's diner waitress to lean on for support, Gus has his portly harem of obese woman to eat stir fried dog food off his nipples. Lucky bastard. (Which one?) Which one what? (Which one is the lucky bastard?) Uh, I'd rather not say at this particular juncture.

As Marty's lump grows into an arm, he looses the support of Lara Flynn Boyle (she can't handle dating a guy with three arms) and gets nothing but confused looks from Dr. Scurvy (James Caan) and Nurse Kitty (Claudia Christian). But he does find an ally in Jackie Chrome (Wayne Newton), a talent agent. When Jackie saw Marty's act without the third arm, he reacted the way almost everyone does: Hostile indifference. But now that Marty has a three arms as supposed to just two, Jackie sees this as an opportunity to turn his abnormality into fame and fortune.

Re-branding them as "Desi the Three-Armed Wonder Comic and his musical accompaniment Gus," Jackie books Marty and Gus at a number of different clubs throughout the city. Of course, the results are the exactly same as they were before the third arm came along (Marty is still not funny, and Gus' accordion playing does nothing but confuse the audience), but Jackie seems to think the three-armed comic has potential.

It's true, production designer (Sherman Williams) and art director (Wendy Guidery) deserve a lot of the credit for making this the cult classic that it is today, it's actually the visionary weirdness of writer-director Adam Rifkin that elevates it to the status of off-kilter masterpiece. Screw that, everyone involved with this film needs to be commended.

Not quite sure who wears the cut-off jean shorts in this here movie, I started to panic. Why, oh, why, I thought myself, why did I announce my plans to review "The Jean Short Trilogy" without making sure the third film features Claudia Jennings in cut-off jean shorts? I know, you're thinking to yourself: Why does Claudia Jennings have to wear cut-off jean shorts? After all, it's called "The Jean Short Trilogy," not "The Claudia Jennings in Jean Shorts... Trilogy." That's true, it's not. But I would really like there to be a consistent theme. And that theme involves Claudia Jennings in cut-off jean shorts. The reason I wasn't sure Claudia Jennings was the one who wears cut-off jean shorts in The Great Texas Dynamite Chase is because her co-star looks exactly like Claudia Jennings. Yep, you heard right, Jocelyn Jones is a dead ringer for Claudia Jennings. And since they both appear in almost every scene together, this caused much unnecessary confusion on my part. Oh, sure, I could tell them apart up close. But when things got a tad distant, I had no idea who was who. The only instance where looking alike seemed to pay off is when they pretend to be sisters. But other than that... Okay, they look similar, let's move on, shall we?

Unpredictable, volatile and highly persuasive. You could use these words to describe the explosives and the women who wield them in The Great Texas Dynamite Chase (a.k.a. Dynamite Women), a Roger Corman-produced action flick with heist and road movie elements that occasionally feels like a sex comedy with feminist undertones.

Actually, everything you need to know about the film can be found in its straightforward title. Let's break it down: The definite article gives the title a sense of purpose right out of the gate; "Great" lets the audience know going in that something special is about to transpire ("The Texas Dynamite Chase" just doesn't have the same ring to it).

"Texas" is the same as "Great," in that, who would want to watch "The Great Delaware Dynamite Chase"? I know I wouldn't, and I love Delaware (in addition, Texas is the perfect setting for crime flicks that involve fugitives from the law as Mexico is conveniently located just to the south); "Dynamite" makes sense as it's the favourite weapon of our sexy bank robbers and it also implies action; and "Chase," well, since the beginning of time, the pursuit (the "hot" variety in particular) has always been integral part of the human psyche.

Getting back to cut-off jean shorts, accentuating the acute firmness of her centerfold-quality legs, the sight of Claudia Jennings in cut-off jean shorts is so titillating, so provocative, that it should be against the law.

Forget about robbing banks with sticks of dynamite, someone arrest this woman for violating The Trouser Integrity Act of 1973, which clearly stipulates that the freakish deformities located near the crotch area of your average human male shall not be aroused from their crumpled slumbers by outside stimuli, particularly in the form of attire that emphasize the thighs and calves of the members of the opposite sex.

I can't believe I'm about to say this, but I need to make a point that doesn't involve Claudia Jennings in cut-off jean shorts. No, no, no, hear me out. It's just that I noticed that the three characters Claudia Jennings plays in 'Gator Bait, Unholy Rollers and The Great Texas Dynamite Chase have more in common than just an affinity for cut-off jean shorts. I'm officially declaring Claudia Jennings a feminist icon. Think about it, the characters she plays in these three movies are headstrong, forthright and are the kind of women who rarely ever take guff from anyone.

While Desiree Thibodeau from 'Gator Bait is definitely headstrong and Karen Walker from Unholy Rollers is pretty fucking forthright, I would say Candy Morgan in The Great Texas Dynamite Chase is all three.

Breaking out prison as the film gets underway, the opening of the film plays out like the end of a women in prison film, as Candy can be seen running down a hill in a grey prison shirt paired with white knee-socks. Meeting her sister, Pam (a pre-Van Nuys Blvd., pre-Malibu Beach Tara Strohmeier), on the dirt road, Candy changes her clothes and heads straight to the nearest bank armed with a fist full of dynamite.

Meanwhile, Ellie-Joe Turner (Jocelyn Jones) is just waking up. Grabbing her pantyhose off her dresser, Ellie-Joe combs her hair and heads off to work... at the Bank of Alpine.

After arriving late, Ellie-Joe's boss decides to fire her. But just as he's doing so, guess who stomps in wielding two sticks of dynamite? That's right, it's Candy. Realizing she has nothing left to lose, Ellie-Joe helps Candy bag her cash more efficiently.

With no job and no prospects, Ellie-Joe hitches a ride out of town (don't worry, she leaves her cat with some dude). When the first guy she bums a ride from turns out to be a massive pervert, she tries her luck again. Anyone care to guess who picks her up next? Yep, it's Candy. Who has just returned from giving her family the money she acquired from the Alpine heist.

I'm surprised the first thing they didn't talk about was how much they lookalike. Sure, Candy's a redhead and Ellie-Joe's blonde, but other than that... At any rate, the conversation soon turns to robbing banks with dynamite.

Teaming up to rob banks, Candy and Ellie-Joe's first attempt to rob a bank together fails miserably (wonky dynamite). I'll give them this, though, they sure looked classy in those red (Ellie-Joe) and yellow (Candy) dresses.

When they're done reaffirming their commitment to one another, Candy and Ellie-Joe set out to procure some dynamite that actually works.

This leads them to Jake (Christopher Pennock), a.k.a. Dynamite Boy. When Dynamite Bo... I mean, when Jake asks Candy if she has a permit to buy dynamite, she should have just gestured toward her shapely stems, which were jutting out from a skimpy pair of cut-off jean shorts. Actually, she sort of does just that. Except, instead of gesturing, Candy crouches. And, as most people know, it's impossible to say no to Claudia Jennings when she's crouching in cut-off jean shorts.

Equipped with a box of brand spanking new dynamite, nothing can stop Candy and Ellie-Joe from robbing every bank from Alpine, Texas to the Mexican border.

After Candy and Ellie-Joe rob their third bank, you have to wonder though: How much money do these chicks need? I mean, do belly-chains and cut-off jean shorts really cost that much?

Nonetheless, if you like films that are shot predominantly outside and one's that feature two skinny white women who sort of lookalike robbing banks with dynamite, do yourself a favour and check out The Great Texas Dynamite Chase. But really, what are you going to do instead, read a book?

Slip on the tightest, whitest body stocking you can find, and get ready to thrust your crotch skyward, because my shapely ass (it's surprisingly symmetrical) is about to watch me some Showgirls 2: Penny's from Heaven. Wait, what's that? You say I already watched it?!? Nooooo! Someone, quick, inject this film back into my bloodstream, I don't what its campy goodness ever to leave my body. Personally, if I was going to make a sequel to Showgirls, the trash masterpiece that has been stupefying audiences since it sashayed its way into multiplexes back in the mid-1990s, I would have gone with "Showgirls 2: Revenge of the Versace Saleswoman" (Possible taglines: "Payback's a bitch, so is working on commission" or "It does suck"). However, my second choice would have definitely been a film about the euphoric ups and depressing downs of Rena Riffel's Penny Slot (a.k.a. Hope), the wide-eyed, perpetually confused stripper with the blonde bob haircut from the first film. And this, as you can clearly see, is what we ended up getting.

Still rocking a blonde bob like nobody's business, Miss Slot's dream of becoming a dancer is slowly slipping from her leggy grasp. Maybe if she didn't insist on grasping things with her legs, she would have an easier time fulfilling her dream. Am I right? But seriously, whoever was in-charge of directing this epic tale about fame, fortune, cremation jewelry, snuff films, bubbles, petroleum jelly, legwarmers and milfs eating hot dogs is clearly obsessed with Rena Riffel's gorgeous gams, as they're on display in almost every scene.

Come again? You're fucking kidding me? It has just come to my attention that Rena Riffel wrote and directed this film. And not only that, she apparently came up with the idea back in 1995. Meaning, this film has been gestating inside Rena Riffel's moss-laden noodle factory for nearly a quarter of a century.

I know, a quarter of a century is supposed to denote a twenty-five year period, and this film has obviously not been gestating inside Rena Riffel's brain for that long. But what can I say, I like to exaggerate.

Anyway, now that I know Rena Riffel was the one who wrote and directed this loopy two and a half hour extravaganza, I no longer view her as just some chick with a great pair of legs. I view her the same way I view Jean-Luc Godard, Béla Tarr, Abbas Kiarostami and Andrei Tarkovsky. Hold up, I don't like that list of names at all.

Let me try that again: I now view Rena Riffel the same way I view Herschel Gordon Lewis, Jess Franco, John Waters and Stephan Sayadian. In other words, I view her as an auteur with their own unique vision, and someone to be taken seriously as an artist.

"The car has a boot on it, and I don't mean thigh-highs." And with that line, we're introduced to the brilliant mind of Penny Slot (Rena Riffel), a dancer who, like I said, is still struggling to make ends meet in Las Vegas. Living with... her husband? Her boyfriend? Uh. Living with her male companion, Jimmy (Glenn Plummer), who, you might remember, took Penny under his wing after things with Nomi didn't work out, Penny makes a living by–you guessed it–stripping.

One day, while grinding against a pole with a giant wooden duck attached to it in a skimpy red two-piece with red fingerless gloves, Penny meets a "real movie producer." But just as Penny is starting to make progress with the "real movie producer," a fellow stripper clam-jams her with extreme prejudice. As the two strippers fight over the "real movie producer," their boss steps in and makes the strippers rub petroleum jelly on their teeth.

If the next scene, which takes place backstage of the strip club, looks strangely cinematic, well, that's because it was shot on 35mm film. While the explanation as to why this was shot on 35mm film and all the others were not isn't that interesting, it is a shame that the entire film couldn't have been shot this way, as it looks amazing.

Clearly unhappy with her station in life, Penny decides to take another shot at fame and fortune when she sees her favourite TV show, "The Stardancer," playing on a television backstage. To further illustrate her point, Penny screams: "Get me out of here!"

Donning a black skirt and a black leather jacket with leopard print flourishes (you could call it a leopard print jacket with leather flourishes, but, either way, let's try to keep things moving), Penny hitches a ride with... Oh my God! Is that who I think it is? Holy crap, it is. I'm sorry, but the guy who just picked up Penny is the same guy who picked up Nomi in the first film. You know what that mean, right? Exactly, her luggage is about to be stolen.

I don't want to disagree with you, or myself, but do you really think Jeff (Dewey Weber) is still cruising the desert picking up attractive, leather-clad chicks and then stealing their luggage? Seriously, how long can this guy keep doing this?

At any rate, when Jeff accuses Penny of being a "starfucker," she hits back at him with this witty gem: "Better to be a starfucker, than a non-starfucker." Realizing that the sting of her caustic wit is having little effect on him, Penny shoves a revolver in his face.

After things cool down a bit, Jeff informs Penny that his uncle works for The Stardancer television show. Which is, that's right, the very TV show Penny dreams of being on. When they're done engaging in gas station sexual intercourse and doing cocaine in his "million dollar Porsche" (Penny's sturdy thighs are excellent for doing cocaine off... they're so smooth and silky), Jeff tells Penny he's gotta strip poker game to go to. And just as they're about to enter the building this strip poker game is supposedly being held in, Jeff notifies Penny that he forgot his wallet in his car.

You won't believe this, but Jeff just drove away. I don't like to admit I'm wrong, but it would seem that this was all an elaborate rouse to purloin Penny's unmentionables.

While Penny is pissed about losing her shit, the piece of shit she misses the most are her dance shoes. And she vocalizes this displeasure by yelling: "My dance shoes!!! He took my dance shoes!!! Fuck!!!!!"

The next day, Penny stumbles upon a trio of criminals. Borrowing one of their cellphones, Penny leaves a rambling message for Jimmy. One that contains this nugget: "A cougar can't change its strips" (and yes, I meant to say, "strips").

After she hangs up, Penny says, "I'll show him... I gotta pee." As she's looking for a secluded place to urinate, she says, "I'm done. D-U-N... done!" When she returns to where the criminals are, Penny's shocked to discover that Karen (Jade Paris), the one in the pink Marilyn Monroe wig, has murdered her partners in crime. Noticing Penny lurking in the bushes, Karen tries to do the same to her. Using stealth, Penny manages to outwit Karen and pushes her to the ground. I don't know if that was what she intended to do, but Penny's push causes Karen to fall on her knife, killing her instantly.

Coming to the conclusion that the authorities will probably pin all the murders on her, Penny grabs their cash, dons one of Karen's wigs, and heads for Hollywood.

Ending up a luxury hotel run by a cult called "The Seven Sisters," Penny gets a job administering beer bongs to wayward twentysomethings at a local bar. It's here that Penny meets Godhardt Brandt (Peter Stickles), a gay pimp/violinist/talent agent/Seven Sisters cult member. Introducing herself as Helga, Penny tells Godhardt all about her dreams becoming a dancer. Intrigued by the leggy go-getter, Godhardt asks Helga if she's won any international competitions. To which Helga responds: "I won Miss Budweiser." That's good enough for Godhardt, as he loves "trashy women."

Oh , and when the topic of Helga's age is brought up, Godhardt says, "Women are like bananas. They're the sweetest when they're ripe... just before they shrivel up." Charming.

If you thought having three actors from the original Showgirls was too much, a fourth appears in the form of Greg "It's an ugly planet; a Bug planet" Travis, who's Phil character now runs a pawn shop. He can tell, by the way, that Penny is a stripper by the purse she carries and by looking at the soles of her shoes.

Here's a fun game to play, every time a character says any variation of the word "whore," feel free to stab yourself in the eye with a corkscrew. Wait, that's not exactly a "fun" game to play. Unless inflicting sixteen plus stab wounds on yourself is your idea of fun. And, yes, the word whore is used over sixteen times in this film. My favourite being when Katja Vardiova (Shelley Michelle) says, "whorely."

Who's Katja, you ask? She's only the third most important character in the Showgirls 2: Penny's from Heaven universe. A sort of cross between a fifty year-old version of Lindsey Lohan and Anna Thomson's hooker character from Unforgiven, Katja replaces Blanca Blanco's Mrs. Von Brausen on The Stardancer show after she's sidelined with a hip injury by a duplicitous understudy.

Get used to the sight of Katja pushing Helga away, only to make up with her in the very next scene, as this is what dominates the film for the final two hours. Their All About Eve-style relationship, which also has Mommy Dearest overtones, is fraught with drama.

I would have loved to have said their relationship had Dr. Caligari-style overtones as well. But Katja only says "Chinchilla" twice. If she had said "Chinchilla" a third time that would have been a different story all-together.

In a weird twist, I was all set to criticize the shoddy nature of the show "Stardancer." But then a character says something to effect of "I recognized her from that terrible dance show... The Stardancer." The fact that others think it's terrible undercut my criticism in a heartbeat.

Damn, is this review still going? What I should have done was split my review of Showgirls 2: Penny's from Heaven into two parts, as there's still an hours worth of campy nonsense to go.

Unbeknownst to her, Helga/Penny is now working as a high-end escort. I know, how does one not know they're an escort? Well, to be fair, Penny is an idiot. Or is she? Maybe she's like a possum, she's just playing dumb.

You could argue that a fifth character from the original Showgirls shows up when Penny is seen wearing Nomi's black Versace dress, but let's not doing anything rash.

A masked television producer says: "Why stand on ceremony," just as a three-way is about to commence. To which a bewildered and lingerie-clad Helga responds: "Why would anyone stand on celery?" Yes! I love this movie, as it's chock-full of dialogue like this.

If you're wondering who the third member of this three-way is, it's a lingerie-clad Blanca Blanco. And if you remember, her Mrs. Von Brausen broke her hip. And get this, she walks with a cane. Is there anything sexier than a woman in black stockings who walks with the aid of a cane? What's that? Huh. I'm being told that there are lots of things sexier than the sight of a woman in black stockings who walks with the aid of a cane. Weird.

Anyway, let's wrap this puppy up, shall we? The word "epic" doesn't do this film justice, as Rena Riffel has poured every inch of her shapely soul into this camp-laden nightmare. Now, could it have been maybe an hour shorter? Perhaps. But then again, who am I to put limits on other people's genius? Ignore those who dismiss this as merely a cheap cash grab, this is obviously a labour of love, one with more whimsy and more genuine wtf moments than your average nursing home bake sale. So, what are you waiting for? Grab your wiener with your tongs, smear your teeth with petroleum jelly and bite into Showgirls 2: Penny's from Heaven, it's totally a movie.

Bathed in perpetual darkness, the world of Hanger is no place for those who menstruate on a semi-regular basis. And, no, not just because a deformed tampon enthusiast of Chinese decent will most likely use your bloodstained rag to make tea with, it's simply not safe out there for whores with working uteruses. Crawling with track-suit-wearing pimps, drug addicts, disfigured basket cases, skankier than usual prostitutes and puss-laden psychopaths, Ryan Nicholson's... (Don't forget Lloyd Kaufman in pink knee-high fishnet stockings.) Ugh, don't remind me. There are plenty of disgusting images in this movie, but I have to say, the sight of Lloyd Kaufman as a transsexual prostitute getting his dick burned on a stove is at the top of the list of things I'd like to forget. Okay, where was I? Ah, yes, Ryan Nicholson's Hanger. Crawling with the stuff I just cited (pimps, hookers, psychos, etc.), the full-time make-up artist, part-time sick fuck follows up his extremely heinous Gutterballs with a film so vile, so egregious, that–yep, you guessed it–I can't help but admire it; parts of it, anyway. Don't get me wrong, I'll continue to pretend every now and then that I was deeply shocked by what I saw transpire throughout this back-alley abortion masquerading as cinema. But damn, it's so fucking sleazy. And let's get real, I can't hate a movie that features one of the most offensively hilarious characters in movie history.

The amount of discomfort I felt as we're introduced to Wade Gibb's Russell was off the bleeding charts. At first I thought his character, a junkyard employee who loves beer and porn, was merely retarded; which he sort of is. However, when the other characters started referring to his Chinese heritage, I became slightly bewildered. Oh my God, he's supposed to be Chinese?!? I thought to myself. And you don't have to be a genius to figure out that Wade Gibb isn't Chinese.

Yet, despite his total lack of credentials in the being Chinese department, Wade Gibb manages to win the audience over by giving a strangely endearing performance.

Actually, I don't know about that. Oh, and I don't mean to imply that I'm wrong about Wade Gibb's brave performance. What I mean is, I don't think a huge chunk of the audience will be able to make it past the coat-hanger abortion scene.

Occurring near the fifteen minute mark, the coat-hanger abortion scene has a close-up shot of a wire hanger being inserted into a vagina. Even though the vagina in question is clearly fake, the scene will be too disturbing for some people.

At any rate, the sight of three hookers (who vary in degree of attractiveness) watching Class of Nuke 'Em High on television is the first thing we see as Hanger gets underway. This is a dicey decision on Ryan Nicholson's part, as some folks will no doubt wish they had watched Class of Nuke 'Em High instead of this non-life affirming piece of filth.

Adding a smidgen of class to the proceedings, the always vivacious Debbie Rochon plays Rose, a down on her luck prostitute who is pregnant. Constantly hassled by her pimp Leroy (Ronald Patrick Thompson), Rose (whose jet black hair is crimped - yeah, baby) finds solace with a John named... well, let's just call him John (Dan Ellis).

Promising to get straight, Rose tells John she has turned a corner and is ready to become a mother. Unfortunately, Leroy doesn't want her get to her shit together. And after killing Rose in a cheap motel room, Leroy then rips her unborn baby out of her womb with a coat-hanger and throws it in a nearby dumpster.

Fast-forward to eighteen years later and that baby is now a physically and emotionally scarred freak living on the streets.

On his eighteenth birthday, the deformed freak, who goes by the name, Hanger (Nathan Dashwood), is picked up by John in his truck. It's not clear yet if John is Hanger's father. But as John says about his relationship with his mother: "I always left my deposit with the box, not the teller." Meaning, he preferred to ejaculate his semen into Rose's vagina whenever they had sexual intercourse. Which, according to John, was quite often.

Getting Hanger a job at a recycling plant and a place to live, John seems to have the kid's best interests at heart. Oh, and given that Hanger's face is deformed as a result of his irregular birth, Hanger dresses like a member of The KLF whose been crossbred with a Belarusian sniper.

Even through he sees himself as a "good guy," make no mistake, John is a huge scumbag. Think I'm kidding? Just ask the poor hooker whose head he crushed with the door of his truck. You see, to celebrate Hanger's eighteenth birthday, John decides to fix up him with a prostitute. Well, after the working girl in the shiny black thigh-high high heel boots gets one look at Hanger, she kinda loses it. Of course, I'm not saying she deserved to have her head smashed for reacting that way. I'm just saying... Actually, I have no idea what I'm saying.

When I saw John Leslie's "slanty-eyed" make-up in Femmes de Sades, I was truly horrified. Yet, part of me was a tad forgiving since it was 1976. I know, that's no excuse. But c'mon, man, they didn't know any better back then. Okay, so, what's the deal with Wade Gibb's Russell, Hanger's "slanty-eyed retard" roommate/co-worker? What I'm getting at is: It's 2009. How was this allowed to happen?

The tone I'm currently employing is not too self-righteous, is it? Nonetheless, I liked the subplot that involved that Russell collecting the used the tampons that belong to a female co-worker named Nicole (Candice Lewald), the so-called "trash princess."

Um, I'm sorry, but Nicole isn't the trash princess in this film. No, that title belongs to the gorgeous Stephanie Walker, who, I think–Nadia Grey is credited as a character called "Smashy"–plays "Trashy." Now, I'm not just crowning Trashy the "trash princess" because she's called "Trashy," she is truly a trash princess.

Don't believe me? Well, her first line of dialogue has her listing the prices of the various services she provides. "Head is 20, pussy is 80 and anal is 200," she forthrightly informs John, who is looking to exact revenge on Leroy for what he did to Rose and Hanger.

If that isn't proof enough, Trashy pulls down her black fishnet pantyhose, wipes her vagina with her hand, and smears said hand all over John's face.

What?!? You're still not convinced. After Leroy leaves the room, Trashy pulls down her black fishnet pantyhose (every action she does in this movie, by the way, seems to involve her pulling down her black fishnet pantyhose), shoves her beautiful ass in John's face, and proceeds to cut three or four juicy farts.

If Ryan Nicholson had any sense, he would have made Trashy the star of the film, as anyone with a half a brain can see that Stephanie Walker/Nadia Grey is super-talented. But alas, we have to endure scenes that involve wound rape, gay rape, soiled diaper fights, crab humour, douche-noozle homicide, blow torch torture, tampon tea taste tests, female masturbation, chubby Jehovah's Witnesses, and the mass consumption of beer and porn.

Oh, and Trashy doesn't have "cirrhosis of the taco," as Leroy crudely states at one point during the film. She's a delicate flower who deserves to be pampered. Of course, no one is pampered in Hanger. It's puerile, disgusting and crass.

It's a movie about punk rock. And it's also a movie about drug abuse. But to me, Alex Cox's Sid and Nancy will always be, first and foremost, a movie about love. Yep, as sappy as it might sound, I consider this here motion picture to be one of the most romantic, life affirming films ever made. Sure, it doesn't end well. But, hey, for the short time they were together, their love for one another was truly inspirational. There's a scene midway into the film never fails to tug at my heart strings (and, yes, I've seen this film at least a dozen times). It's the one where Sid Vicious, the sort of bass player for the seminal British punk band The Sex Pistols telephones his American girlfriend Nancy Spungen while on tour in the U.S.A. Even though their conversation ends like all their conversations do, in a slurred cacophony of coarse put-downs and drug-fueled non-sequiturs, nothing makes me happier than seeing Nancy's reaction to when Sid tells her that he not only misses her but loves her as well. Assuming that Sid, "the punk rock superstar," would forget about her once he got a taste of fame and fortune in America, Nancy's eyes light up when she learns that Sid hasn't forgotten about his shrieking violet.

Furthermore, the fact that everyone around Sid thinks Nancy is an annoying hosebeast does nothing but intensify my Nancy-based rooting interest. Maybe I'm not hooked up right, but I'm still waiting for my Nancy Spungen to come along and sweep me off my feet, get me hooked on heroin and book me gigs at Max's Kansas City. I know, that's a weird thing to say, but some people need a Nancy Spungen in their life.

It's true, I have a soft spot for brash, forthright women who look amazing in fishnet pantyhose and/or stockings. But I think Nancy Spungen is more than just a woman, she represents an idea. For those of us who have no clue when it comes to maintaining healthy human relationships, the Nancy Spungen's of this world cut through all the noise by doing the majority of the heavy lifting for you.

In the documentary, Who Killed Nancy?, it's implied that Sid Vicious would have never approached a woman like Nancy Spungen. Well, in this fictionalized version of their story, Nancy, an American living in London, England (she's basically a starfucker), does make the first move (she forces her way into bed with him, and by "bed" I mean the floor of a flophouse). But Sid is no wallflower.

The question who hit on who first doesn't really matter in the end, as Sid is the one who is currently bathing one of Nancy's feet with inside of his mouth. And get this, the foot he's slobbering all over was seconds earlier ensnared in black fishnet pantyhose. In order to get at her toes in a more efficient manner, Sid proceeds to extract the foot he wants to devour from its nylon prison with a serious of punk-friendly tearing motions.

What I'm getting at is, Nancy is clearly the one wearing the fishnet pantyhose in this relationship.

In a strange twist, when we first meet Nancy Spungen (Chloe Webb), she's wearing blue jeans(!). Her dominatrix friend, Linda (Anne Lambton), is actually the first to be seen wearing fishnets in the movie. No, it's true.

When Sid Vicious (Gary Oldman) and his pal Johnny (Andrew Schofield) come over to see Linda–you know, to cover her walls with graffiti and eat baked beans, the former gets his first glimpse of Nancy Spungen. However, since Nancy is not wearing fishnets or any leather whatsoever, Sid doesn't give much thought to her. The feeling seems to be mutual, as Nancy doesn't even seem to know which wanker is which (she calls Sid "Johnny").

This all changes when Nancy sees Sid's band, The Sex Pistols, in concert for the very first time. Literally getting in-between Sid and Johnny while they were sleeping, Nancy lies next Sid, basically kicking Johnny to the curb (who leaves while muttering something about sex being ugly and boring).

The next day, Sid watches as some git throws a pint in Nancy's face at a pub. Outside the pub, Sid finds a distraught Nancy smashing her fists against a wall. Just after Nancy mumbles the immortal words, "Never trust a junkie," Sid asks her if she can score him any drugs. Giving her a wad of cash, Sid watches as Nancy hops on a bus. Call me a cynic, but I don't think Sid's going to see that bird again.

Oh, and it should be noted Nancy Spungen is now dressed like Nancy Spungen. Meaning, her sexy body is sheathed in fishnets and leather.

Even though London is a large city, Sid, along with his friend, Wally Hairstyle (Graham Fletcher-Cook), who is wearing a red leather jacket, stumble upon Nancy. Well, they stumble upon a couple of bags containing her belongings first. At any rate, as Wally helps put Nancy's clothes back in her bags (they have spilled all over the street), Sid yells at Nancy, "What about my drugs?!?"

I don't know what was going on in England at the time, but judging by the behaviour of Sid and Johnny in the opening scene (they're seen kicking in the windshield of a Rolls-Royce), there was definitely something in the air that was making them act this way. Another example of this unruly behaviour occurs when Sid and Nancy are walking to Wally's gaff to shoot up, when we see a bunch of kids coming from school. Smashing car hoods with their field hockey sticks as they went, these kids are clearly deranged. Or maybe they were just a reflection of society?

If you look closely, you'll notice a Tori billboard that reads "Labour Isn't Working." You have to admit, that's almost interesting. And I hate say it, but "Labour Isn't Working" is one of the best political slogans of all-time.

Enough about British politics. I was going to inquire as to why Johnny and the other members of The Sex Pistols not named Sid Vicious were wearing angora sweaters during a studio session. But then I remembered seeing a picture of Vivianne Westwood in an angora sweater from the period and it made perfect sense; she designed the bands clothes.

It's during the angora sweater replete studio session that we first hear the full-force of Nancy's strident American accent and it's also the one where Sid kisses Nancy's right foot.

The scene where The Sex Pistols play a concert on a boat on the Thames highlights where Sid's priorities are. Not even bothering to appear on stage, Sid spends most of the time either with Nancy or asking Malcolm (David Hayman), the band's crafty manager, for drug money.

Since it's apparently illegal to hold concerts on boats in the middle of the Thames, the police put a stop to the show. As the boat comes ashore, the police are waiting. The band, the band's management, and dozens of punks scatter, as the police show up wielding billy clubs.

Walking arm in arm in a calm manner, Sid and Nancy leave the area unmolested. The scene is hauntingly beautiful, as chaos reigns all around the oblivious couple... and the music of Pray For Rain plays on the soundtrack.

My favourite line occurs soon afterward when Nancy says, "I'll never look like Barbie. Barbie doesn't have bruises."

The biggest test for Sid and Nancy's relationship is when Nancy is told she can't travel with The Sex Pistols for their doomed American tour.

However, it's during the tour, as you all know, that Sid calls Nancy and declares his love for her. The fact Nancy is dressed in black opera gloves, fishnet stockings and thigh-high boots when she receives this call makes the scene all the more sweeter.

After a brief trip to Paris, the action moves to New York City, where Sid and Nancy set up shop at the Chelsea Hotel. In one the film's funniest bits, Sid is unaware that he's in New York City; despite the fact they have been there for a week. He confirms his location by looking out the window.

Even though the film looks great from start to finish, the New York chapter has a certain quality about it. Photographed by famed cinematographer Roger Deakins, the New York scenes have a grittiness about them that is strangely dream-like.

The film's most famous scene, the alleyway garbage rain kiss, captures this dream-like aura best. And like the "off the boat" scene, the alleyway garbage rain kiss features the amazing music of Pray For Rain.

While it's obvious to most people that Sid and Nancy have a drug problem. Some might need convincing (I know, who are these people? But still, please bear with me). Well, what better way to do so than have Xander Berkley play Sid and Nancy's drug dealer. I mean, you know you have hit rock bottom when Xander Berkeley shows up in your life. A "Methadone Caseworker" played by Sy Richardson tries to steer Sid and Nancy in the right direction, but it's way too late, these two are doomed.

In typical Gary Oldman fashion, I would some times forget that he was in this. In other words, there were moments when I thought Sid Vicious was playing himself. But as anyone who has seen the film or knows anything about punk rock history will tell you, that would be physically impossible.

Unafraid to appear skanky or uncouth, and definitely unafraid to come across as loud and obnoxious, Chloe Webb continues the tradition of American actresses giving fearless performances for British film directors. The others being, off the top of my head: Theresa Russell in Track 29 (Nicholas Roeg), Cathy Moriarty in White of the Eye (Donald Cammell) and Kathleen Turner in Crimes of Passion (Ken Russell). So, yeah, Sid and Nancy is pretty much the most romantic movie ever.

When one of Gerald's friends in Welcome Home, Roxy Carmichael tells him that he thinks Winona Ryder's Dinky Bossetti is "ugly," I remember saying to myself: You have got to be fucking kidding? Sure, Dinky's hair is an unkempt disaster and her wardrobe looks like something a homeless Goth might wear, but she still looks like Winona Ryder (her skin is like porcelain). This lack of credibility when it came to taking the other character's perception of Dinky seriously didn't exactly ruin the movie for me, but it did irk me to a certain degree. Well, in a recent film called Excision, we're introduced to a character who comes pretty close to embodying the spirit of Dinky Bossetti, The Queen of Teen Angst. Except, instead of obsessing over a woman she thinks is her mother and taking care of a menagerie of animals (each with a carpet sample to call their own), AnnaLynne McCord's Pauline dreams of performing surgery on her ill sister in her parent's garage, and, not to mention, looks at her bloody tampons with a wide-eyed, weigela-scented sense of wonder.

In the spirit of transparency, I should tell you that I watched Excision, written and directed by Richard Bates Jr., immediately after seeing Ryan Nicholson's Hanger. Why am I telling you this, you ask? It's simple, really. Both films feature characters who like to admire tampons that have been drenched in recently excreted menstrual blood. Talk about your weird coincidences.

Things get even weirder, coincidence-wise, when Excision throws an unorthodox abortion scene at us. If you remember correctly, Hanger boasts a gruesome coat-hanger abortion scene, too. While not as graphic as the scene in Hanger, the Excision abortion scene is nothing to poo-poo about. I think most of you will agree, putting an aborted foetus in a microwave oven (one that appears to have been specifically designed to dispose of unwanted foetal waste) after extracting it with your hand isn't something you see everyday, either.

However, that's where the similarities end. You see, whereas Hanger is a hate-filled, misogynistic slab of putrid bile masquerading as entertainment, Excision has a strong female lead and surreal flights of fancy that are visually interesting.

Oooh, I just remembered, the real reason I brought up Welcome Home, Roxy Carmichael. It's true, I already made my point regarding the two films, but I sort of got taken off track by the whole tampon/abortion thing. Anyway, I felt Excision got the look of the teenage outsider right.

Now, I've since discovered that AnnaLynne McCord has been on a lot television shows. But since I've never seen any of them, I approached AnnaLynne McCord as just another actress. Meaning, I didn't spend the bulk of the film thinking: Wow, the chick from 90210 is doing some freaky ass shit in this movie.

You could view this as just another example of an attractive actress "going ugly" for critical accolades. And, after looking at some of the pictures of AnnaLynne McCord outside the Excision universe, I can see how some might take that particular view. But I don't think that's what's going on here, as AnnaLynne McCord seems fully-committed to the role of Pauline, a troubled teen who has a, let's just say, rich and colourful imagination.

The film opens inside the realm of this rich and colourful imagination. In there we see two versions of Pauline facing each other. One is twitching like a Clicker (the nickname given to humans in the third stage of the Ophiocordyceps Unilateralis infection - I despise Clickers, by the way) from The Last of Us, while the other is sitting still. Suddenly, the twitchy Pauline starts bleeding profusely from her nose and mouth. When the twitchy Pauline spits blood all over the still Pauline, the real Pauline wakes up.

Whew, for a minute I thought the entire film was going to take place inside this antiseptic nightmarescape. Don't get me wrong, I could have handled it. But, nevertheless, I appreciated the fact that Richard Bates Jr. didn't go overboard when doling out the weirdness.

Besides, there's plenty of weirdness to go around in the real world. I mean, John Waters plays a reverend, Malcolm McDowell plays a math teacher, Ray Wise plays a high school principal, Matthew Gray Gubler plays a sex ed. teacher and best of all, Traci Lords plays Pauline's mother.

After watching Pauline's family, which also includes Bob (Roger Bart), her henpecked father, and Grace (Ariel Winter), her little sister (who has cystic fibrosis), sitting together at the breakfast table for just a few seconds, it's obvious that they're a tad on the dysfunctional side.

Asking her sex ed. teacher if you can contract an STD by having sex with a dead body establishes right away that Pauline ain't hooked up right. I know, the twitchy, blood spewing dream sequence already did a pretty good job of establishing that. But, to be fair, everyone dreams about spastic doppelgängers who vomit blood; it's one of the great things about being human.

While each dream sequence is different, they all pretty much stick with the same theme. And that is: Blood, bandages, bodies and sex. Oh, and did I mention blood?

Approaching Adam (Jeremy Sumpter), who is sitting on the bleachers at school with his friends, Pauline tells the startled teen that she wants to lose her virginity with him. Now, most teenage boys wouldn't hesitate for a second to accept an offer like that. But then again, Pauline isn't your average teenage girl -- At one point she tells her sister, "When I lose my virginity, I want to be on my period." Yum.

In an obvious shout-out to Heathers, we see Pauline and Grace playing crochet on their front lawn. Later that night, guess who calls Pauline? That's right, Adam. It would seem that he's willing to look past her greasy hair, bad posture, acne and unruly eyebrows in order to attain some guilt-free teenage poontang.

It's too bad it's soaking in menstrual blood. Don't believe me, take a look in the mirror, the bloodstained fruits of your cunnilingual labour are all over your face.

In an upcoming scene, Pauline will compare Adam's pussy eating technique to a dog drinking water (which, apparently, isn't a good thing - I love the thought of a guy lapping up my labia like a thirsty dog). She also describes Adam's girlfriend's vagina as a "diseased axe wound." Hee. Oh, and when Adam's girlfriend (who, by the way, doesn't know how to spell "cunt") tries to give Pauline a piece of advice, she says, "Make it quick, I gotta go take a shit." Classy.

Even though I didn't approve with a lot of what Pauline gets up to in this film, I couldn't help but sympathize with her outlandish predicament. And that's thanks in part to the amazing performance given by AnnaLynne McCord. The exact same thing can be said for Traci Lords, who kills it as Pauline's overbearing mother. If you're going to see one movie about a surgery-obsessed teen with fallen arches, make it Excision. It's well-made, darkly funny and is sprinkled with fine performances. Oh, and did I mention blood?

Warning: The following may contain words and pictures that promote the notion that: A) Courtney Love is sexy as a pregnant gangster's moll (sit on that jukebox, you leggy hosebeast, you). And B) Courtney Love is an okay actress. What am I saying, "may contain"? Oh, believe me, this review of Straight to Hell will most definitely contain a crapload of notions that promote the off-kilter shapeliness that is Courtney Love. If that's the case, why am I giving you a warning? Somewhere back in the recesses of my mind, I must know that Courtney Love isn't the type of person you can openly heap praise on, at least not acting praise. I mean, she's not like, say, Mink Stole or Mary Woronov, people who are universally beloved. Show me, by the way, someone who doesn't like Mink Stole or Mary Woronov, and I'll show you one seriously disturbed individual. At any rate, it's obvious that Courtney Love and the rest of cast of Repo Man and Sid and Nancy all answered their phones when the pride of Bebington (Don't fuck with The Wirral!), Alex Cox, called 'em up asking them to appear in his wacked out tribute to Sam Peckinpah and Sergio Leone, because they're all in it.

(Even Zander Schloss and Xander Berkeley?) Yep, even them. Remember all those hot punk chicks who hung around The Sex Pistols in Alex Cox's Sid and Nancy? Well, they're all in it as well. And, yes, that also includes the ultra-gorgeous Michele Winstanley. You might remember her, she makes a great face when that guy at The Sex Pistols concert says he doesn't want to be a punk anymore.

Oh, man, I just realized that having most of the cast of Repo Man and Sid and Nancy in this movie doesn't necessarily mean it's going to be smooth sailing. If anything, the film could be just one long reminder of how good they were in those films.

No doubt leading to moments like: Hey, there's Sy Richardson, wasn't he amazing as Lyte in Repo Man? Or, look, that's Sara Sugarman! I loved her as Abby National in Sid and Nancy ("Sugar man, won't you hurry / 'cos I'm tired of these scenes").

While there's some of that going on for sure. The film does manage to create its own unique universe. In other words, it's not really fair to call this Sid and Nancy: The Western or Repo Man II: The Legend of Otto's Gold.

However, no matter how you spin it, the film is still a mess. Right, Grace Jones and Dennis Hopper?

Just as I was about to give up on this film, along comes Jennifer Balgobin in a pair of pink shorts. Instructed to wash Miguel Sandoval's motorcycle, Jennifer Balgobin, who plays Fabienne, goes outside with a bucket of soapy water. Opening her brown trench coat with much fanfare, Jennifer Balgobin, who is wearing, like I said, pink shorts, and a pink, cut-off tank-top with the words "Hot Property" written on it, proceeds to clean Miguel's bike in an erotic manner.

You gotta envy the eyeballs belonging to Sy Richardson, Joe Strummer and Dick Rude. I mean, to witness such a titillating display up close like that, it doesn't get any better than this. Or does it? I'll get to whether it does in a minute.

I think might have spoke too soon regarding Courtney Love's performance in this movie. Don't get me wrong, the sight of a barefoot and pregnant Miss Love sitting provocatively on that jukebox is a enough to power a thousand misguided erections, but every time she would open her mouth, a small amount of blood would ooze from my ears.

(I thought you liked shrill and unpleasant women?) Yeah, but not that shrill and unpleasant. Where's Chloe Webb when you need her?

Since I can't go back in time and stop Alex Cox from casting her, let's soldier on, shall we? Look, the film stars as Sy Richardson, as the forthright Norwood (the inspiration for Samuel L. Jackson's Jules in Pulp Fiction perhaps?), Joe Strummer as the oily-haired Simms and Dick "Let's Go Get Sushi and Not Pay" Rude plays Willy. In other words, the film is still salvageable as far as entertainment goes.

Oh, it's salvageable, all right... Salsa y ketchup. Salsa y ketchup. Salsa y ketchup. Salsa y ketchup. Salsa y ketchup. Salsa y ketchup. Salsa y ketchup... Salva-fuckin'-geable!

The characters I just mentioned, in addition to Courtney Love, who plays Velma, Norwood's pregnant girlfriend, rob a bank in, oh, let's say, Mexico (the film was shot in Spain), and flee into the desert. When their car breaks down, they bury the loot (about four suitcases stuffed with money), and walk to a nearby town.

From what I gathered, the plan is to stay in the town until things blow over. Only problem being, the town is home to an unruly gang of gun-totting coffee drinkers.

When Norwood, Simms and Willy save two of the gun-totting coffee drinkers (Shane MacGowan and Spider Stacy of The Pogues) from a group of bounty hunters, Frank McMahon (Biff Yeager), the leader of the powerful McMahon Clan, welcomes the outsiders with opens arms.

While trying to buy nails from a local merchant named George (Miguel Sandoval), Simms gets his first glimpse of Jennifer Balgobin's Fabienne. Like any ex-member The Clash would do, Simms leaps on her with an enthusiastic jelonka ogłoszenia. Now, if you're worried about George getting upset by this untoward yet totally reasonable display, fear not, for he is in the back looking for nails.

The next day boasts the scene where Jennifer Balgobin washes Miguel Sandoval's motorcycle in pink shorts. I used to always say that Jennifer Balgobin's best work is in Alex Cox's Repo Man and Stephan Sayadian's Dr. Caligari. Well, now that I've seen Straight to Hell, I feel it's time to change my opinion. That's right, if you love Jennifer Balgobin, and I mean, really love Jennifer Balgobin, than Straight to Hell needs to be injected into your nervous system immediately. I don't care if her accent is a tad on the wonky side, this is the movie to see for all your J-Gob needs.

While Simms is getting all riled up by Fabienne, Willy's motor is more in tune with Louise (Michele Winstanley). Taking her to the local cemetery to visit her grandmother's grave, Willy declares his love for Louise. This, of course, doesn't go as planned, and Willy ends up dirty, sexually frustrated and alone.

It should be noted that almost everyday while the foursome are in town ends with a song: Day One ends with a performance of the song "Delilah" by Kim Blousson (Fox Harris), with Elvis Costello on guitar; day three ends with a performance of "Danny Boy" by Cait O'Riordan; and day four ends with not with a song, but random acts of violence and cameos by Grace Jones and Dennis Hopper.

Which leads to the final day, where Norwood, Simms and Willy wind up taking on the entire McMahon Clan in a large-scale, Wild Bunch-style shoot 'em up.

What's that? I forgot to mention the song that ends day two. That's weird. No, it's just that the song that ends day two just happens to be featured in what I now consider one of the greatest scenes in movie history. And get this, it has nothing to do with the massive slit on Jennifer Balgobin's dress or the robust nature of Michele Winstanley's jet black ponytail.

Everyone be quiet, because someone has requested that Karl (Zander Schloss), proprietor of Karl's Disco Wiener Haven, perform his theme song, "Salsa y Ketchup." Picked on and abused throughout the movie, Karl's unexpected triumph is the epitome of awesome.

Maybe it's because the song has lyrics such as: "Sizzle, they grizzle, you step up to the griddle, Salsa y Ketchup, you tell me and I'll fetch up," or maybe it was Karl's twitchy demeanor. Whatever it was, this scene turned what was up until then a mildly entertaining pseudo-spaghetti western into a genuine cult classic.

I don't mean to imply that the rest of Killer Party (a.k.a. The April Fools) is complete crap, but the first eight or so minutes of this Toronto shot slasher flick are freakin' amazing. And... Okay, I might as well get this out of the way before I continue: There's a scene in this film where an American flag can be seen lurking in the corner of a university library (it's lurking behind Paul Bartel to be specific). I know, I said it was "Toronto shot," and the last time I checked, Toronto wasn't in the United States of America, but the makers of this film clearly don't want you to know that. Anyway, getting back to the opening eight or so minutes. Were the first eight or so minutes and what transpires afterward made by the same people? I mean, the opening is bursting with creativity, while the other stuff is bursting with nothing whatsoever. Don't get me wrong, I did love what Elaine Wilkes, Sherry Willis-Bunch and Joanna Johnson brought to the table as a trio of collage age best friends who want to join a prestigious sorority at a Toronto university, but they can't compete with black seamed pantyhose and pink and blonde crimped hair.

Just to clarify, the black seamed pantyhose were attached to the shapely legs of Elizabeth Hanna, who plays Stephanie, the daughter-in-law of the dead woman in the coffin at a church funeral, and the pink and blonde crimped hair belongs to Danielle Kiraly, who plays April, a bubbly teen attending a drive-in movie with her boyfriend.

Now, you're probably thinking to yourself: What are these characters doing in the same movie? That's just it, they're not in the same movie. Are you ready? Here it goes: Stephanie's a character is in the movie April is watching at the drive-in. Isn't that wild?

What's that? You say lot's of movies do the old movie within a movie gag. Oh yeah. Things get even wilder when we discover that April is actually a character in a Thriller-style hard rock music video by White Sister. See what I mean? Weird, wild stuff.

Anyone care to guess who's watching this Thriller-style hard rock music video? That's right, one of the college age women from that trio I mentioned earlier.

I don't mean to continue to rag on everything that occurs after it's revealed that April's in a music video, but it's almost as if the people behind this movie decided to throw in the towel after the eight minute mark.

Though, to be fair, "Best Times," written by Alan Brackett and Scott Shelly–the song that plays while Phoebe (Elaine Wilkes), Vivia (Sherry Willis-Bunch) and Jennifer (Joanna Johnson) ride their bikes to class–is a thousand times more awesome than that White Sister song.

Opening with a funeral service for a woman named Annabel, we watch as the bereaved family members leave the church. Just as the aforementioned Stephanie is about exit, she asks the priest if it's okay to go back in to pay her respects one last time. Hmm, isn't that sweet, I thought to myself, Stephanie must have really loved her mother-in-law. Oh, wait, she just told Annabel that she hopes she rots in hell. After she says this, multiple times, mind you, Annabel grabs Stephanie and pulls her into the coffin. As she's pulling her in, we get some great shots of Stephanie's black pantyhose as she struggles with what I assume is Annabel's reanimated corpse.

Just as the coffin is about to be set alight in the church's crematorium, we're whisked to a drive-in movie theatre where April and her boyfriend (who is all hands) are watching Stephanie burn to death.

Hankering some popcorn, April walks, or, I should say, skips, to the theatre's large, neon-light adorned concession area. Only problem is, there's no-one there. On the bright side, the neon lighting does an excellent job accentuating the 1980s overkill that is April's overall look.

The crimped hair, the kooky tights, the pink gloves, the white lace scrunchie, everything about her ensemble practically screams shopping mall new wave.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, a rock video featuring bombastic lead singers with hairy chests, keyboardists in torn football jerseys and zombies starts up.

As the music video is winding down and the band "White Sister" finish singing: "April! You're no fool!" We're whisked (yet again) to a living room, where Phoebe is watching the White Sister music video.

It helps to know that this movie's original title was "The April Fools" going in, because if you didn't (like I didn't), you would no doubt wonder what the hell is going on.

If you're like me, and you love '80s synth-pop with detached female vocals, think the University of Toronto campus is beautiful, especially in the fall, and wish more movies would sport chicks riding bikes, then the next sequence is for you.

While her friends Phoebe and Vivia are gung-ho about joining the Sigma Alpha Pi sorority, Jennifer is a tad apprehensive.

It wouldn't be a collage set horror film without pranks, and we get a real doozy of a prank when the slobs at Beta Tau unleash a jar of bees next to a backyard hot tub filled with naked Sigma Alpha Pi ladies. There are numerous things to like about this scene. But I think the appearance of the great Terri Hawkes (Hello Mary Lou: Prom Night II) is the real reason to cheer. Quirky fun-fact: Terri Hawkes provides the voice of Sailor Moon on the series of the same name.

If Phoebe, Jen and Vivia want to join Sigma Alpha Pi, they're going to have to convince the sorority's leader, Veronica (a wonderfully unpleasant Alicia Fleer), they're worthy. And if that means reciting childish nonsense ("I, myself prefer a big fat cucumber") or stealing t-shirts from Beta Taus, than so be it.

Even though Paul Bartel (Eating Raoul), who plays an English professor, makes an allusion to it, I still love the fact that no explanation is given as to why Phoebe, Jen and Vivia are all wearing one red item and one white item on their feet (mismatched sisterly solidarity perhaps?). If memory serves me correctly, Phoebe has on one red shoe and one white shoe, Jen is wearing one red sock and one white sock, Vivia is rocking one red legwarmer and one white legwarmer.

Surviving "Goat Night," Sigma Alpha Pi's elaborate initiation process (a process where Terri Hawkes and Alicia Fleer appear in togas), Phoebe, Jen and Vivia are on the fast track to becoming fully fledged members of the sorority. Yay!

Fashion-wise, I don't know which I liked better: The sight Sherry Willis-Burch rocking a pink sweater with a yellow neck or Alicia Fleer gliding down the school's hallways in a tight pencil skirt. Ahh, talk about your tough decisions. Either way, nothing comes close to topping the ensemble Danielle Kiraly wears during the film's much ballyhooed opening.

I don't know why movies like this bother to hire make-up artists and special effects people if all they're going to do is edit out all the blood and gore. The film might be called "Killer Party," but not a single character is killed onscreen. Boo!

On the plus side, the so-called "Killer Party" does feature some killer looks. And if I was going to give out the prize for best costume at Sigma Alpha Pi and Beta Tau's Costume Party: April Fools Night, I would have to go with Phoebe's aerobics get-up: Tights! Legwarmers! Leotards! Headbands! Armwarmers! Oh my! Second prize would go to Martin (Ralph Seymour), the film's primary red herring, for his Madame Bovary costume.

Would have Killer Party been a lot better had the blood and gore not been edited out? Maybe. But still, if you like '80s fashion, '80s music, or are a fan of Toronto... in the '80s, you should check this flick out.

Of course, wouldn't you know it, all my memories of camp involve getting frostbite, sleeping in a mice-infested cabin and being shunned by chunky Finnish chicks. I mean, seriously, whose bright idea was it to drag a bunch of kids from the relative comfort of the big city and plop them in the middle of the wilderness? Oh, did I mention that this wilderness dragging took place in the middle of January? No? Well, it totally did. Sure, I didn't have to spend the entire winter up in Algonquin Park, but you try spending three days locked in a drafty cabin with a bunch of people you don't like. In other words, there were no Abby Bernstein's to swap mouth spit with, no burger-flavoured blondes to swap mouth spit with, and there were definitely no bowlegged brunettes named Katie to swap mouth spit with either. Even though it's filled heartbreak, casual child murder, flippant heroin usage and sexual perversions you didn't even think existed, I envied the characters who populate Wet Hot American Summer, one of the greatest summer camp movies of all-time.

All this talk of swapping mouth spit got me thinking: Anyone wanna guess whose mouth spit I desperately wanted to swap with after watching this movie? Okay, you in the purple muumuu. (I'm going to say, Ron von Kleinstain.) Yes, I wanna swap mouth spit with Judah Friedlander. Ha ha, very funny.

Yeah, you. Yeah, the guy in the Quebec Nordiques jersey. (Well, since you mentioned her first, and given you're exquisite taste in women, I'm going to go ahead and guess that you wanted to swap mouth spit with Abby Bernstein.) Ding, ding, motherfuckin' ding! We have a wiener. By the way, anytime I see someone wearing a hockey jersey that isn't a Quebec Nordiques jersey, I shake my head in disgust.

At any rate, not only did I want to swap mouth spit with Abby Bernstein, I wanted to pound her pussy into submission. I know, I better get in line if I want to pound anything located on Abby's shapely organic structure, as her wet hot American holes are very popular throughout Camp Firewood. But still, every time the sexy camp counselor in the pink "I've Been Civilized Long Enough" t-shirt would appear onscreen, significant biological changes would occur within certain pants-based parts of my anatomy.

In a weird twist, not much is really pounded in this movie. That is, if you don't count a helpless Frigidaire and Bradley Cooper's not quite limitless asshole, as both those things are pounded pretty hard. No, as far as showing the characters displaying affection for one another, writer-director David Wain seems to have a thing for open mouth kissing.

Alright, maybe calling it a "thing" is a bit of a stretch, but there were times where it felt like I was watching a series of scenes strung together that featured Paul Rudd's Andy aggressively making out with a burger-flavoured blonde (Elizabeth Banks) or a bowlegged brunette (Marguerite Moreau), or Abby Bernstein (Marisa Ryan) aggressively making out with, well, just about everyone.

Oh, and when I say, "everyone," I mean, everyone. Don't believe me. Okay, you see that kid who lit one of his farts on fire at the talent show? She totally makes out with him.

It's August 18, 1981 and it's the last day of camp. Located somewhere in the wilds of Maine, the campers and counselors at Camp Firewood have one last chance to make some memories that will, hopefully, last a lifetime.

A sexually frustrated camp counselor named Coop (Michael Showalter) sees this day as his final opportunity to woo Katie (that's right, the bowlegged brunette). Only problem being, she spends a better part of her day cleaning out the inside of Andy's mouth with her tongue.

While Coop's focus is on Katie, a sexually frustrated camp counselor named Victor (Ken Marino) sets his sights on Abby Bernstein, the hottest female camp counselor on the entire Eastern Seaboard.

When Victor spots Abby licking a spoon in the camp mess hall in an erotic manner, he nearly jizzes in his jean shorts.

It looks like the nerdy kid in the cape (Gabriel Millman) is beating both Coop and Victor to the punch. No, he's not making a play for Katie and Abby. He's hitting on a bunch of girls his own age in the mess hall. Sure, his attempt to court them goes terribly awry when the focal point of his advances (the blonde on the right) calls him a "douchebag", but at least he's making an effort. Which is more than I can say for the adults in this movie.

Take Henry (David Hyde Pearce), for example, a sexually frustrated astrophysicist who is spending the summer living in a cabin next to Camp Firewood. He's hit on by Beth (Janeane Garofalo), the camp director. But what does he do? He pushes her away after she asks him if would like to come teach the kids about science.

If you think that's it as far as sexually frustrated characters go, you would be wrong. Get ready, because we're about to meet Gene (Christopher Meloni), the camp's, you guessed it, sexually frustrated chef/Vietnam vet. Though, to be fair, Gene's frustration goes well beyond anything sexual. Whether letting slip that he has a bottle of dick cream, informing others that he wants to fondle his sweaters, getting the word out that he needs to smear mud on his ass, or telling those who will listen that he wishes to hump a fridge, Gene has some serious issues to work out. However, I don't think a single day in late August is enough time for Gene to fix what's wrong with him.

Or is it? You'd be surprised by what one can accomplish in a single day, especially at camp in the early 1980s.

The film's best scene when it comes to getting a lot of shit done in a short amount of time just happens to be the film's funniest. It's when Beth drives into town to pick up some lube for Nancy (Nina Hellman), the camp's nurse (the lube, by the way, is for her pussy). As she's driving away, a group of camp counselors hop in the back of her truck. What happens next is the greatest montage to involve french fry consumption, cigarette smoking, beer drinking, marijuana usage, back-alley cocaine purchasing, purse snatching and heroin abuse in the history of cinema.

I know, some people will tell you that the scene where a jean jacket wearing Paul Rudd reluctantly cleans up after himself in the mess hall is the funniest scene in the film. It's true, the scene is funny (he really doesn't want to pick up those utensils off the floor), but the amount of involuntary laughter I expelled from my primary laugh-hole as I watched a twitchy Janeane Garofalo laid out in the corner of a dilapidated drug den was off the charts.

Speaking of Janeane, the scene where her character puts mousse in her hair to impress Henry was very relatable. I mean, haven't we all put mousse in our hair to impress someone at some point in our lives? While the mousse does impress Henry (it gives her hair more volume), her lack of knowledge when it comes to astrophysics could doom their relationship before it even begins. However, a quick trip to the library solves that problem, as the town's library has a surprisingly robust astrophysics section.

Oh, it wouldn't hurt if Henry stopped by the library to do some boning up as well (a relationship is a two way street). Luckily, like their astrophysics section, their one on camp directing is surprisingly robust as well.

Did I mention that Molly Shannon and Amy Poehler are in this movie? (like Andy, I'm way too lazy to check). Whatever, Molly plays an art teacher whose going through some marital problems (she's comforted by one of her students) and Amy Poehler plays the director... or is she the producer? She runs the camp's theatre with Bradley Cooper. Anyway, the art teacher plotline gets creepier and creepier as the film progresses and I loved it when Amy uses the word "usurp." As in: "How dare you usurp my authority..." The emphasis she puts on "usurp" made me giggle.

Boasting a talking can of mixed vegetables, four child murders (well, two of them are negligent homicides), a gay tool shed sex scene, two Ruth Buzzi references, a character credited as "Cure Girl," a non-played baseball game (my favourite kind), "Love Is Alright Tonite" by Richard Springfield, Elizabeth Banks in a bikini, and at least two scenes that involve the stunning Abby Bernstein shoving a stick of gum in her mouth before inhaling some guys face, Wet Hot American Summer is one of the few movies to capture the spirit of the early 1980s, and I have no problem whatsoever placing it alongside other camp-set classics such as Sleepaway Camp and Little Darlings. Sex, drugs and casual child murder! Woo-hoo!

Three friends enter Weewankah Park located in the wilds of Michigan... (Hold up. Aren't you going to bemoan the fact that this film is yet another Canadian production pretending to be American?) Nah, I'm done doing that. Besides, State Park (a.k.a. Heavy Metal Summer) was, according to my exhaustive research, shot in both Québec and North Carolina. However, when Rafal Zielinski's name appears in the credits, that should tell all you need to know as far as the national makeup of this motion picture goes. I know, he made Valet Girls, the ultimate L.A. movie. But, for the most part, the bulk of his cinematic output is Canadian. Like I said, though, I'm done doing that. Anyway, where I was? Oh yeah, three friends enter a Yellowstone National Park/Algonquin Provincial Park-style park located in Michigan. It sounds like a simple premise, but what occurs to these three friends whilst inside will... (Don't tell me, it will alter the spiritual trajectory of their lives forever.) It's true, some trajectories of a spiritual nature will be altered; three, to be exact. But the manner in which this film goes about altering these particular trajectories is the stuff of Canuxploitation legend.

Don't believe me? Um, a creamy, freckle-covered redhead dons a bear suit (in the middle of summer) to help a handsome environmentalist save his small business from an unscrupulous land developer.

Still not convinced, eh? How 'bout this. Instead of cheating on her boyfriend by engaging in vaginal intercourse with every able-bodied, penis-owning male in the park, a vivacious blonde gives them all haircuts.

Really? You still need convincing? Okay, if this doesn't convince you, than nothing will. A fashion-forward woman thinks she has landed a real hunk when she uses her no-nonsense gams to bag herself a good-looking fella down by the water. Only problem being, this anatomically correct hunk is actually a punk. Or, to use her words: "He's a heavy metaler!!! A disgusting lowlife!"

And thanks to a well-written scene that took place earlier in the movie, this fashion-forward woman makes it abundantly clear that she despises everything associated with heavy metal.

There you have it, this film has three strong female characters each with their own distinct personalities. Your move, other movies.

The cool thing about each character is that they all reminded me of someone else. The actress who plays Eve (Kim Myers), the creamy, freckle-covered redhead, was a dead ringer for Meryl Streep, while the actress who plays Linnie (Jennifer Inch), the vivacious blonde, had a Kelli Maroney vibe about her.

As for the fashion-forward woman, she reminded me of... Oh, who am I kidding? There's only one Isabelle Mejias. Not to take anything away from Miss Myers and Frau Inch, but the moment I saw Isabelle Mejias appear onscreen as the adorable Marsha, I knew she was going to be my favourite character.

You're right, her character could have turned out to be a real hosebeast. But I didn't care, I was on Team Marsha from the get-go.

Oh, and I just remembered who Isabelle Mejias reminded me of. She reminded me of, that's right, Isabelle Mejias. A channel called Citytv used to air a movie called Unfinished Business all the time back in the days when they didn't run infomercials 24/7, and the female lead was played by none other than Isabelle Mejias.

In an ironic twist, Unfinished Business features music by The Parachute Club. What's that? How is that ironic? Oh, I'm sorry. There's a scene in State Park where Isabelle Mejias is wearing what she describes as a "two hundred dollar jogging suit," and her designer jogging suit, believe or not, practically screamed The Parachute Club.

After enduring the film's goofy opening scene (a guy in a bear suit causes havoc on a construction site) and an opening credits sequence set to a song that was the definition of Yello-esque, we meet our principle cast. From what I gathered by paying attention to what the characters were saying, Eve needs money, Linnie is about to get married and Marsha... Well, Marsha, to put it in the crudest terms possible, just wants to get laid.

How about those guys a few cars back who are also waiting to get into Weewankah Park? What am I saying? Those guys are heavy metalers, and we all know how Marsha feels about heavy metalers. (Are you sure "heavy metalers" is the right term? I mean, I thought "headbanger" was the preferred nomenclature.) It is. But Marsha calls them heavy metalers. Which, in a weird way, makes me like her even more.

When the spiky-haired heavy metaler, Johnny Rocket (Peter Virgile) starts smashing his dark-haired pal, Louis (Louis Tucci), against the side of their van, Marsha says: "Violence is so passe."

Finally entering the camp... Though, you have to wonder how Johnny Rocket and Louis managed to get past Corky (Andrew Jackson), the park's sycophantic head of security? It wouldn't take much for Corky–who, on top of being sycophantic, is a real asshole–to send the heavy metalers packing. Hell, just looking at them would be enough. What I think happened was, Corky temporarily left his post to help Mr. Rancewell (Walter Massey), the area's resident evil businessman.

It would seem that Louis and Johnny Rocket and Eve, Linnie and Marsha have a lot to learn about camping, as both their attempts to prepare food are met with failure. To make matters worse, the women mistake one of Marsha's belts for a snake and Louis's Gerontophobia is brought to forefront when he discovers the camp site next to theirs is occupied by an elderly couple named Tallahassee Ray (Rummy Bishop) and Ethel (Jessica Booker). Upon seeing them, Louis says, "Old people.... weird, man."

Remember when I said that Eve "needs money"? Well, she needs it for collage. And she figures she can earn a quick 5000 bucks by winning the "Wilderness Challenge," a race that involves swimming, running, kayaking and orienteering, or, as Louis calls it, "oriental-teering."

This plan hits a bit of a snag when we discover that Eve doesn't know jack-shit about orienteering. And, to make matters worse, all the orienteering classes are booked solid. So what's a freckle-covered redhead with alabaster thighs to do? After rebuffing her first request to help her, Truckie Honeycutt (James Wilder), the owner of the Honeycutt Market, is given no choice but to help her when Eve threatens to reveal Truckie's secret identity. That's right, Truckie is a mild-mannered store owner by day, a bear suit-wearing environmental activist by night.

You see, while wandering the woods, Eve spotted a man carrying what looked a bear suit through the woods. She didn't see his face, but she did see his ass (which was packaged in a pair of tight cut-off jean shorts). Well, later that day, Eve saw that ass again (packaged in the same tight cut-off jean shorts). Anyone wanna guess who was attached to that ass? Yep, it was none other than Truckie.

Oh, and don't feel too sorry for Truckie for being saddled with a name like Truckie, his younger brother's name after all is Trailor (Christopher Bolton); who, by the way, spends the majority of the movie hitting on Linnie.

While Linnie is busy giving random dudes "haircuts" and Eve is out "orienteering" in the woods with Truckie, Marsha has decided to snag herself a man. Grabbing her trusty binoculars and slipping into a Adrienne Vittadini one-piece bathing suit, Marsha scopes the beach for man candy.

Spotting a colossal man-babe in the water, Marsha positions herself on the dock so that the first things he sees when he comes ashore are her sexy stems. Repositioning her legs in order to maximize their impact on the male viewer, Marsha uses her shapely lower half the same way a fishermen uses a lure to land himself a mackerel or a bass.

To surprise of no-one, Marsha catches her prey with relative ease. What is a surprise, however, is the identity of the man she caught. Yep, the guy Marsha snagged by employing her first-rate gams is none other than Johnny Rocket. Robbed of his spiky hair, make-up, leather jacket and chains, Marsha doesn't seem to realize that she has just fallen for a heavy metaler!

Will Marsha be able to put aside her prejudice towards heavy metalers and embrace the power of love? Will Linnie run out of men to give haircuts to? Will Eve win the Wilderness Challenge? Will Louis get over his fear of old people? Will...

Enough with the questions, tell the nice people if this film is good or not. Right. So, yeah, it's good and junk. In fact, it was more than good. It was refreshing to watch a camp-based movie that doesn't involve a masked psycho-killer murdering teens or one that has to rely so heavily on crass humour. Boasting a strong pro-environmental message, State Park (a.k.a. Heavy Metal Summer) taught me that you shouldn't judge people based on their clothing, some old people are not lame, and slow and steady does in fact win the race.

A super-sexy and more lithe than usual Claudia Christian wields a Steyr AUG and a Mossberg 500 Bullpup whilst wearing a red thong near the middle portion of the totally kick ass 1980s sci-fi action thriller, The Hidden, a staple on Citytv in the early '90s. (Quirky fun-fact: Before television was ruined by infomercials and reality shows, some channels used to show movies.) Okay, now that I got that out of the way (for me to not mention Claudia Christian, her red thong ensnared butt-crack or the sweet ass guns she fires in this movie straight out of the gate would be tantamount to treason), let me quickly take care of some industrial music-based business. When one of the senator's body guards yells, "Back against the wall now!," I thought: Hmm, that sounds strangely familiar. Where have I heard that line before? Oh, who am I kidding? I knew the line was sampled in the Front Line Assembly track "No Limit," taken from their album "Gashed Senses and Crossfire," the instant I heard it uttered. And to think, my "friends" used to tell me there were no benefits to listening to electro-industrial music.

Show me any horror or action film made during the 1980s and I'll be able to identify which electro-industrial group sampled from it within five seconds of hearing it. Yeah, I know, it's a pretty impressive talent. Though, you have to wonder, if I'm so talented, how is it possible that I haven't gotten laid since Donald Igwebuike was kicking field goals, kick offs and extra points for the Tampa Bay Buccaneers? Weird.

Anyway, is this film, directed by Jack Sholder and written Jeff Kouf, a parody of '80s action movies?

In the film's opening chase sequence, a wanted criminal named Jack DeVries (Chris Mulkey), who just robbed a bank and is using a stolen black Ferrari as his getaway car, crashes it through a large pane of glass that was being carried across the street by two men. And get this, moments earlier, he crashes through some construction barriers. And to make the scene even more cliched, the construction workers frantically wave their hands in the air in a futile attempt to stop the out of control luxury sports car.

The fact that the construction workers dodged out of the way at the last minute is definitely cliched. But you'll notice that glass moving guys weren't so lucky. And as anyone who's well-acquainted with the crashing through the pane of glass gag will tell you, the guys (who are usually wearing jumpsuits) don't usually get hurt. Meaning, The Hidden is not ashamed to embrace '80s action movie cliches, but it's not afraid to ridicule them either.

Similar in the way the movie Dead Heat deftly combined the buddy cop movie with a zombie flick, The Hidden is a buddy cop movie crossed with a film about body snatching aliens who dig fast cars, adore trashy women and like to blast Concrete Blonde on their illegally obtained boomboxes.

After the aforementioned Jack DeVries is riddled with bullets and badly burned during a high speed pursuit through the streets of West Hollywood, the slug-like alien that is controlling DeVries decides to use the body of the patient lying in the bed next to him. Only problem being, the body belongs to Jonathan Miller (William Boyett), a man with some serious gastrointestinal problems.

Since it's obvious "it" loves loud music and fast cars, it only makes sense that his first stop after leaving the hospital be a record store. Stuffing cassettes in his pockets with a reckless abandon, Mr. Miller seems somewhat out of place–you know, with him being a paunchy middle-aged man with serious gastrointestinal problems. Serious gastrointestinal problems or not, it doesn't stop him from beating the creeper-wearing record store clerk to death with his own club.

Meanwhile, back at police headquarters, Det. Tom Beck (Michael Nouri) is finishing up the paperwork for the DeVries case, when an F.B.I. agent named Lloyd Gallagher (Kyle MacLachlan) tells the detective that he's been assigned to help catch Jack DeVries. (Doesn't the F.B.I. know Jack DeVries is lying near death in the hospital?) Apparently not.

When Agent Gallagher rushes over to the hospital, it would seem that he's too late, as all he finds there is a dead Jack Devries. It would also seem that Agent Gallagher knows the thing that caused Jack DeVries go on his crime spree (he was mild-mannered family man two weeks ago) is still on the loose.

Figuring that the creature moved into the body of the patient next to him, Agent Gallagher sets his sights on Jonathan Miller. Of course, Tom Beck can't quite understand why Gallagher wants to track down Mr. Miller (he has no criminal record). In fact, from Tom Beck's perspective, none of this makes any sense.

However, when the bodies start piling up (Mr. Miller kills a few people at a Ferrari dealership), Tom Beck begins to think that Jack DeVries and Jonathan Miller might have been in cahoots. Mind you, he doesn't think they're being controlled by an intergalactic space slug, but he's getting there.

As luck would have it, one of the guys Mr. Miller kills at the Ferrari dealership happens to be a gun runner. And when Mr. Miller (using the address on his business card) goes to his office, he stumbles upon a cache of bullpup firearms.

Unfortunately, Mr. Miller's body is slowly becoming a terrible host. Hopping in his brand new red Ferrari, Mr. Miller heads the Harem Club to look for a new body.

Finally, we have Claudia Christian. Dancing on stage at the Harem Club, Claudia's Brenda Lee Van Buren might not know it yet, but her wondrous body has been selected to be the alien's next host.

Call me crazy, but I thought the outfits worn by Harem Club waitress staff were a tad on the skimpy side. (A tad?!?) Okay, they were whatever the opposite of a tad is. The point being, if I was a man who possessed genitals that were fully-functional, I would be down at the Harem Club ogling lingerie-clad goddesses and ordering Mai Tai's like a bandit every night.

The difference between what the women living on the so-called fringes of society wear on a day-to-day basis and what mainstream ladies are wearing is staggering.

The best example of this style variance can be found between the witness to the record store homicide, a.k.a. "Record Store Girl" (Jill Friedman), and the woman who tells the alien to fuck off, a.k.a. "Rodeo Drive Girl" (Lenna Robinson).

While the Record Store Girl's ensemble is teeming with quirky flourishes, the Rodeo Drive Girl's outfit exudes nothing but staid conformity.

Just for the record, the Record Store Girl is wearing a white tutu, a black bomber jacket and black tights with white socks, and Rodeo Drive Girl is wearing a white shirt with green pants and a chunky belt.

Getting back to Claudia Christian for a minute: Since her character lives on the fringes of society, her wardrobe reflects this outsider status. Though, I thought the coin slot exposing nature of her dress was a bit much. I mean, it's fine to wear inside the Harem Club. But it isn't something to wear to the corner store. Or maybe I'm just being a prude.

Either way, the film's best moments are when Kyle MacLachlan and Michael Nouri go after Claudia Christian, who fires a Mossberg 500 Bullpup and a Steyr AUG at them during an extended chase sequence; one that culminates on the roof of a mannequin factory.

Speaking of guns, when the alien sets its sights on the body of a U.S. senator, we're treated to some excellent Uzi action. The great thing about the Uzi shoot out is that they're being used properly (in close quarters). And the people firing them, for the most part, employ obstacles as cover (most Uzi users in movies fire them wildly in wide open spaces).

Take special note when a cop, played by Law and Order's Richard Brooks, shows Kyle MacLachlan's character a flamethrower he seized during a recent bust, as it will make a significant second appearance later on in the film.

Oh, and did anyone else tear up at the end? I'm not saying I did or anything like that, I'm just asking a simple question. At any rate, I laughed, I might have cried, I saw Claudia Christian's butt-crack. Four stars.

I don't know where to start, nor do I, as you'll soon find out, know how to string sentences together in a semi-coherent manner. To begin my review of Big Meat Eater with a saucy diatribe about the frilly underthings lurking underneath the orange skirt currently attached to the organic structure of the mayor's secretary seems like an ill-advised thing to do at this juncture. I mean, this film is beyond lingerie. It's chemically engineered lingerie with a hint of linoleum, uranium, plutonium, acid, alkaline, red dye and freon. It's...uh. No, it's radioactive lingerie for the fall-out set. Yeah, that's the stuff. Besides, you can't talk about lingerie, radioactive or otherwise, when robotic space aliens reanimate the corpse of Mayor Carmine Rigatoni and then replace his severed hand with a whisk. Well, you can talk about lingerie, just not right away. To do so would undermine and undercut the uncut weirdness this film, directed by Chris Windsor, un-repeatedly puts out there. Anyway, as things got underway, I thought I had stumbled upon an old educational film from the 1950s that teaches children about the joys of living Burnaby and Coquitlam, British Columbia, or, as it's known in this film, Burquitlam, British Columbia. But in reality, I had actually stumbled upon a zany slab of creamy (Canadian) cinematic goodness.

However, it should be noted, like all great cult films, words like, "British Columbia" and "Canada" are ~~never~~ rarely ever mentioned. Neither are pesky things like, dates and times. No, this film takes place in its own unique universe and don't you forget it.

Believe it or not, Big Meat Eater is a musical about the son of Mordvinian immigrants who dreams of exploring the vast reaches of outer-space. Seriously, that's what the film is about. Living above Bob's Butcher Shop with his kooky family in the forward-looking town of Burquitlam, Jan Wczinski (Andrew Gillies) is desperately trying to gather together the chemicals necessary to launch his himself into the cosmos.

(Don't tell me, a deranged butcher's assistant named "Abdulla," played by Clarence 'Big' Miller, will stop at nothing to prevent Jan from achieving his space dream.) Wow, you are way off. You're right about one thing, though, Abdullah the butcher's assistant is definitely deranged. It's just that Jan and Abdulla the butcher's assistant don't even cross paths. It's true, Jan's actions do have an impact on Abdulla the butcher's assistant's day-to-day existence, just not in the way you might think.

When the person singing "Bob's Theme," the film's opening musical number asks: "Who's that man... strutting down the street?" They're asking a hypothetical question, as everyone knows Bob (George Dawson), he's a respected pillar of the community.

Heading over to Burquitlam's town hall in his usual jovial manner, Bob plans to unveil ADANACO, the new universal language he has created.

The reason, by the way, everyone at the town meeting is sweating so profusely (including the mayor's sexy secretary) is because Abdulla is putting way too much material into the building's furnace. And by "material," I mean henchmen; specifically, one of the mayor's henchmen.

When the mayor catches wind of this, he fires Abdulla. And, no, he wasn't fired because he stuffed one of his henchmen in the furnace, he was fired because he sucks as a janitor. As you might expect, Abdulla is none too pleased to be out of a job. To get back at him, Abdulla murders the mayor outside his office (he severs his fingers with his car's cooling fan).

Tired of lugging the mayor's body across town, Abdulla decides to take a breather. Placing the body (which has been hastily shoved into a large sack) on the sidewalk outside Bob's Butcher Shop, Abdulla goes around to the side of the shop to rest. Mistaking the bag containing the mayor's body for a sack of meat, a delivery man picks it up and carries it into Bob's Butcher Shop. Yep, the mayor's body is now hanging in the freezer of Bob's Butcher Shop: "Pleased to meet you! Meat to please you!"

While trying to get the body back, Abdulla inadvertently lands a job as a butcher's apprentice. This leads to the film's second musical number to feature Abdulla (the first being the boiler room set, "The Baghdad Boogie"), a nasty little ditty called "Big Meat Eater," - "I'm a big meat eater... pass the ham."

"How times flies when you're grinding meat." You said it, Bob. I like this Bob character. He's affable, clean and neat.

Meanwhile, in civics class, Jan Wczinski is patiently listening to his teacher blather on about raising money for the "Crippled Children Car Wash Fund." And when she's not doing that, she's instructing the class the massage their gums. Talk about ridiculous. I mean, you're not going to raise any money putting on a car wash.

As Jan is busy working on his spaceship, his sister Nina (Sharon Wahl) is pouring her mind-altering curves into a tight dress for her date with some guy named Ace. She tells her parents that going to see a 3-D movie called "Panic on Muscle Beach," but I'm not buying that for a second. And neither does Nina's grandma (Ida Carnevali), who says the only 3-D's she's familiar with are death, doom and destruction.

I must say, Big Meat Eater is unlike anything I've ever seen. And I was all ready to give it a mildly enthusiastic review (after all, the mayor's secretary wears an orange skirt and Jan's sister is smoking hot). But then something earth-shattering occurs. Something that supersedes orange skirts and smoking hot sisters. When Jan bumps into Bob outside his butch shop, the latter asks the former where they're going. When Jan says he's going to his room to work on his "science project," Bob asks if he can tag along.

You wouldn't think that Jan and Bob's meeting would be the impetus for one of the greatest scenes in movie history, but it totally is. Standing in Jan's room, surrounded by machine parts and beakers, Bob begins to ask him about his project. When the subject of chemicals comes up, Bob's eyes light up and he goes on a tangent about how important chemicals are. This leads to a Devo-esque song called "Mondo Chemico," a super-catchy show-stopper about–you guessed it–the importance of chemicals.

If that wasn't enough, we're treated a talent show that features a glam rock band performing "Missile Love" (with Nina on keyboards) and robotic aliens who mutate humans in order to further their sinister agenda. When Bob says, "The future lies in the future," he could be referring to this film, as its power to baffle and amaze only gets greater the closer we get to the future. Someone put this movie on a double-bill with John Paizs'Crime Wave, stat!

It's a good thing I stayed around for the end credits of The Bikini Carwash Company, or else I would have made quite the fool of myself. Itching to go on a long-winded tangent about the bizarre editing transitions featured throughout this film, I was literally cut-off at the knees when I saw the scene (a.k.a. stinger) that appears after the end credits. It would seem that those "bizarre editing transitions" were swish pans. And, according to Penn State University's film terminology page, a swish pan is a "quick pan from one position to another caused by spinning the camera on its vertical axis and resulting in a blurring of details between the two points. Sometimes a swish pan is used as a transition by creating a blur and then ending the blur at an action in an entirely different place or time." Now, the question that is, no doubt, on everyone's mind is: Why on earth am I talking about swish pans when I could talking about hot chicks washing cars in bikinis? What can I say, you know me, I love swish pans. Wait a minute, no I don't. In fact, I thought writer-director Ed Hansen's decision to use swish pans from start to finish, while a bold one from an artistic point-of-view, was a flawed at best.

On the other hand, you won't find that many reviews for The Bikini Carwash Company that start off with paragraphs about swish pans. While that puts a positive spin on the contents of my opening paragraph, I still feel somewhat ill at ease for not opening with a circumlocutory barrage of bikini-based prose.

In my defense, The Bikini Carwash Company isn't your average bikini car wash movie. If it was, would I be reviewing it? I think not.

The film wastes little time when it comes to proving that it isn't your average bikini car wash movie by showing how Jack (Joe Dusic), a nerdy guy from Iowa, made his way to sunny California. Instead of shooting footage of him riding on a bus or some boring shit like that, this film uses state of the art computer graphics to depict his journey westward.

If you look at the date I included along with the film's title and director, you'll notice that The Bikini Carwash Company was made in 1992. That alone should give everyone a pretty good idea what the computer graphics look like.

Speaking of dates, some of you probably did a double-take when you saw that this film was not made in 1982. Apparently no one told the makers of this film that the 1980s are over. Then again, people who criticize others for not behaving in a manner that corresponds correctly with the zeitgeist they're currently immersed in are basically assholes.

If you want to wear paisley bell-bottoms in 1985, I say, go for it. If you want to listen to the Squirrel Nut Zippers in 2010, knock yourself out. And if you want to make a car wash movie with tons of bikini-clad women and more swish pans than one can shake a stick at in 1992, be my guest.

Obviously inspired by the success of Terminator 2: Judgment Day, writer-director Ed Hansen and his writing and producing partner George "Buck" Flower have decided to computerize the point-of-view of one of its characters. However, since this film isn't about an Austrian-accented cyborg sent from the future to protect a floppy-haired basket case, the makers of this film give the local flasher the ability to analyze his targets.

The instances where we see the flasher's H.U.D. combined with the swish pans are what make The Bikini Carwash Company stand out in the crowded field of bikini car wash movies. However, what makes the film just plain great are the women and their thongs.

Opening with the aforementioned Jack asking strangers on the beach where he can find the Sunshine Car Wash Company, his search eventually leads to Missy Warner. Aptly credited as "Awesome Beach Girl," Missy wows her fellow beach-goers with her thong-ensnared butt-crack. Clumsily asking her about the whereabouts this car wash, Missy loses patience with him and tells him to, and I quote: "Get away from me and my tits, you creep."

I don't know, man, this Jack fella isn't exactly endearing himself to the audience. I mean, the way he kept badgering people about the location of some car wash was enough to drive you mad. Seriously, this sort of behaviour might acceptable in Iowa, but people in L.A. want to be left alone, especially when they're at the beach.

When Jack stumbles upon Melissa (Kristi Ducati) and her pals (let's see if I can name them all), Amy (Rikki Brando), Sunny (Sara Suzanne Brown), Tammy Joe (Brook Lynn Page), Stanley (Eric Ryan), Big Bruce (Scott James) and Rita (Neriah Davis), who I saved for last because she's the hottest and the dumbest woman in the entire movie... Damn it, I lost my train of thought (the gorgeousness/idiocy of Neriah Davis, a.k.a. Neriah Napaul, has been known to do that). Oh yeah, when Melissa, who is having money troubles, gets one look at Jack, she sees dollar signs.

Dropping by the car wash to see Jack (yes, he eventually found it), Melissa tells him to come by the beach after work to discuss a business opportunity.

Take special note of when Jack corrects Melissa for implying that he's from Idaho instead of Iowa, as this gag is employed, let's see (Idaho, Illinois, Indianapolis), a total of three times. Really? Three times? I could have sworn they're were more. Oh well. If I was in charge of writing this movie, I would have shown Melissa correctly stating that Jack was in fact from Iowa (near the end of the film, of course). This would have clued the audience into the fact that Melissa was falling for Jack.

It should be pointed that I'm a fan of the way Neriah Davis looks in this movie. What I mean is, when I did some digging for pictures of Neriah, I was horrified by what I came across (Two words: Breast implants).

You see, the Neriah who appears in this movie is all-natural. Oh, sure, she's got about five cans worth of hairspray in her hair, but everything else is pure Neriah.

Actually, upon further inspection, the reason Neriah's hair looks so big has nothing to do with chemicals. No, the reason it looks so big is because she employs scrunchies in ways their designers clearly did not foresee. It's true, some of the folks who work at the scrunchie laboratories over in Scrunchie Valley predicted that some people might employ their scrunchies in ways they did not intend, but their concerns were not given much credence by the scrunchie bigwigs.

Well, judging by the manner which the throngs of thong-wearing bimbos who appear in this movie are deploying their scrunchies, it would seem that all bets are off when it comes to scrunchie usage.

Somehow managing to convince Jack to let Melissa and her bikini-clad pals come work for him, his once drab car wash is quickly turned into a successful business where fun and frivolity rule supreme.

Proving, despite my inherent gayness, that my taste in women is impeccable, Neriah Davis' Rita is the one put in charge of luring drivers into the car wash.

Standing on the side of road, Rita beckons cars into the car wash simply by using a series of gesturing motions.

In order to come across as a real movie, a stuffy lawyer character is added to the mix. Threatening to close down the car wash for being lewd and lascivious (in addition to that, Rita causes close to forty fender benders), the assistant district attorney gets all up in Jack's grill. Luckily, Melissa has a lawyer friend named Bobby Canova (Kimberly Bee), who shows up just in time to put the prudish ADA in his place.

When I saw that Bobby was wearing stockings underneath her lawyerin' clothes, I thought to myself: If I don't see the tops of her stockings by the time this movie is over, I'm going to be pretty upset.

Well, not only do we get to see the top of her black hold-up stockings, we also get a glimpse of the stocking tops attached to the wife of a prudish judge. And to think, we all have Amy to thank for this, as her inability to control a vacuum hose is the reason so many stocking tops were revealed in this film.

Correct me if I'm wrong, but I think The Bikini Carwash Company holds the record for having the most montages in movie history. Seriously, the movie is barely an hour, yet it must contain at least eight montages. And each montage features a song by Shake City and Newhaven, bands who produce bowling alley-quality hair metal.

Realizing that their film is barely an hour long, Ed Hansen and Buck Flower decide to include a five minute photo montage at the end of the movie to pad things out. And like every other montage featured in this movie, a pre-op Neriah Davis blows all the other women out of the water with her natural, scrunchie-enhanced beauty.

When Cory McAbee, the writer, director and star of The American Astronaut, approaches the ladies of Venus and sings the line, "So perfect and pure, and gynecologically demure," I nearly lost it. At first I thought: Who talks like that? Then it hit me like a ton of primordial debris, I talk like that. No foolin', I must use the phrase, "gynecologically demure," at least twice a day. Gynecological kismet aside, this is the weirdest steampunk-influenced space western musical I've ever seen. Feeling a tad uneasy throughout the early going of this black and white ode to space punies and earth boobies, I sat and stared at it with bated breath as two henchmen (who work for the Blueberry Pirate) performed an elaborate dance number in the Ceres Crossroads' men's room while our hero attempted to expel fecal matter from his anus. What is this? I repeatedly mumbled underneath my breath, which, like I already stated, was bated beyond belief. How did this get made? was I another query that pasted through my mouth hole on more than one occasion as I watched the Blueberry Pirate's henchmen dance up a storm in the men's shitter on the dwarf planet formerly known as Asteroid #1.

It wasn't until Bill Buell and The Billy Nayer Show hit the stage of the Ceres Crossroads that I began to relax. Performing a ditty called "Love Smiles," Bill Buell's Eddie leans into the microphone and starts singing. The unexpected intensity of his performance ("unexpected" because up until then, his character seemed clumsy and awkward) gave me a real jolt of energy.

Initially thinking that I had inadvertently stumbled upon some artsy-fartsy slab of Sundance-approved twaddle, the film slowly grew on me as it progressed.

When I saw a woman's breast at an à;GRUMH… concert during the latter part of the previous century, I figured everyone would be clambering for me to describe the sensation of seeing a naked breast in person. As you might expect, I was somewhat crestfallen when no-one seemed interested in hearing about my real live tittie experience.

In hindsight, it kinda makes sense that no-one asked me to regale them with stories involving my tit encounter. But let's say you're a sixteen year-old boy living in a part of space that boasts no women whatsoever. And, like me, you saw a woman's naked breasts at, let's say, an à;GRUMH… concert. Don't you think the contents of your brain would be a hot commodity, especially within the non-naked-breast-seeing community?

In order to keep his workers happy, the foreman of a mine on Jupiter employs The Boy Who Actually Saw a Woman's Breast (Gregory Russell Cook), one of the few males in the galaxy who has seen... well, everything you need to know about The Boy Who Actually Saw a Woman's Breast can be found in his name.

The Boy Who Actually Saw a Woman's Breast is my favourite character in The American Astronaut for three reasons. The first being the fact that his name is: "The Boy Who Actually Saw a Woman's Breast." The second is because I liked his outfit (think Flash Gordon meets Thor with a hint of Art Deco). And the third is simple: The song "A," a.k.a. "A.E.I.O.U.," is the coolest thing ever.

While the plot is fairly straightforward: Samuel Curtis (Cory McAbee) is an astronaut who must bring "the girl" to Jupiter, trade "the girl" for "the boy," bring "the boy" to Venus, trade the "the boy" for Johnny R., bring Johnny R. to Earth and then collect the sweet, sweet cash. The manner in which the story is told is nothing but.

Boasting shots of old-timey gauges (fans of steampunk will eat this crap up), cowboy silver-miners dancing in silhouette, elderly stand-up comedians ("Is it just me or do my balls itch?"), the driest shave ever to be captured on film (someone get Samuel Curtis some shaving cream/gel, stat), and the manliest dance contest to ever take place on a fragmented planetesimal, The American Astronaut celebrates–and some might say, glorifies–the irregular from start to finish.

It's rather fitting that the film begin with a brief lesson about the asteroid belt that lies between Mars and Jupiter and a drum roll. What's that? Oh, why is it fitting? It's simple, really. Ceres is the largest object in that particular asteroid belt, and since we spend quite some time there, it only makes sense to know a little more about it. The drum roll, on the other hand, is fitting because it leads us to believe that we about to witness something truly spectacular.

And there's nothing more spectacular than Samuel Curtis' rock music accompanied spacewalk to the Ceres Crossroads, a bar filled with roughnecks and thugs. I loved it when the strings kick in mid-way through his epic EVA.

After Samuel Curtis finally gets inside the bar, Eddie the bartender gives him "a real live girl." According to Larry Blueberry, a.k.a. The Blueberry Pirate (he delivers fruit to the fruitless throughout the galaxy), the case Eddie gave him contains the cells necessary for someone to clone they're own, you got it, real live girl. And you know who would really appreciate a real live girl? That's right, Lee Vilensky (Peter McRobbie), the man who runs an all-male mine on Jupiter.

Since the lucky stardust-sprinkled miners are born and bred on Jupiter, none of them have ever seen a woman. In order to boost their morale, Lee Vilensky has The Boy Who Actually Saw a Woman's Breast perform for the workers. While the bulk of his performance involves singing and dancing, his description of what a woman's breast looks like is the showstopper.

However, if Mr. Vilensky gets his hands on a woman of his own, he can describe not only what a woman's breast looks like, but tell them all about sexual intercourse.

While his mission seems to be going smoothly, Samuel Curtis is actually being pursued by his nemesis, Professor Hess (Rocco Sisto), who also serves as the film's occasional narrator. And, oh yeah, it's his birthday.

Anyone else think it was odd that after Samuel Curtis finished singing about the woman with the glass vagina, Annie Golden's Cloris didn't get to sing a song? She is, after all, a professional singer.

Other than that, I thought The American Astronaut has easily cemented itself alongside other musicals and music-themed movies such as: Big Meat Eater, Straight to Hell, Voyage of the Rock Aliens, and Xanadu. Oh, and I wonder if there's away to program your alarm clock to say, "What did your father teach you?" instead of the usual buzzing noise. Wait, my boss just looked at me funny. It would seem that I failed to describe the naked breast I saw at the à;GRUMH… concert. Well, it was round and soft. Now get back to work.

We have leggy floozy adjacent black pantyhose being adjusted. I repeat, we have leggy floozy adjacent black pantyhose being adjusted. In the opening scene no less. I couldn't help but notice that your eyes lit up when I mentioned that the adjustment-worthy black pantyhose was adjacently attached to a leggy floozy. And you know what it means if a film boasts a leggy floozy right from the get-go, right? Yes, it usually means there will be more leggy floozies to come. But it also means that the leggy floozy boasting motion picture in question was probably directed by the great Amir Shervan, the writer-director of classics like, Samurai Cop and Hollywood Cop. In the annals of sleazy exploitation cinema, there are Andy Sidaris women, Russ Meyer women, Tinto Brass women and Jess Franco women. But none of these so-called women can hold a candle to the Amir Shervan woman. Sure, their parts aren't as big (and by "parts," I mean the size of their roles, not the size of their tits) and some times they're not even listed in the credits, but Amir Shervan's talent for casting attractive women is second to none.

We get a taste of this talent almost immediately, as Killing American Style opens with a group of haphazardly assembled leggy floozies that are all vying for... Now, I'm not quite certain what exactly they were all vying for. But I do know this, these leggy floozies definitely want to impress John Lynch (John Lynch), who is giving them the once over in the dank backroom of some sleazy nightclub.

After giving it some thought, I've come to the conclusion that the leggy floozies assembled for John Lynch are auditioning to be strippers at his club. But, in a way, they're also auditioning to be his girlfriend, as John Lynch wrangles up a busty blonde with killer thighs in a new wave leotard and takes her into the ladies toilet to give her test run.

Oh, and don't let John Lynch's gay porn star good looks fool you, he's a heterosexual man, and don't you forget it.

I don't know where the busty blonde with the killer thighs came from (she wasn't in the initial flock of leggy floozies when the audition began), but when she saunters onto the makeshift stage, the other leggy floozies must have been shaking in their non-designer pumps.

Using a chair as a prop, the busty blonde with killer thighs destroys the competition with her flirtatious dance routine. Well, actually, I wouldn't call it a "dance routine," it's more a series of sultry floozy-friendly poses. But nevertheless, the look on John Lynch's face as the busty blonde with killer thighs crawled around on the stage said it all.

However, that doesn't mean there's no room for the other leggy floozies to move in the John Lynch's floozy-centric organization. In fact, the two women who went on before the busty blonde with killer thighs, the petite blonde in the black pantyhose and lithe brunette in the cut-off jean shorts, are both seen sitting at Jon Lynch's side later on in the movie.

I loved it when John Lynch says, "Can anybody do what I want 'em to do?" To which the busty blonde with killer thighs responds, "I can."

I don't know what the leggy floozies that auditioned before the busty blonde with killer thighs did that was so off-putting, but the manner in which John Lynch dismisses Casey, a blonde with a knack for impromptu pantyhose adjustment, and Lonnie, a lithe brunette in a torn jean jacket and cut-off jean shorts, was quite cruel.

While John Lynch and the busty blonde with killer thighs are getting to know one another better in the ladies room, Tony Stone (Robert Z'Dar) shows up to do some hardcore cock -blocking. You could say that Tony is doing the same to the busty blonde with killer thighs, as she wants to get fucked just as much as John Lynch does. But instead of using the term cock-blocking, I think clam-jam is the more appropriate term.

Anyway, he better have a good a reason for pulling John Lynch away from a sure thing like that. Playing out like a Grand Theft Auto V"Strangers and Freaks" side mission, Tony Stone, John Lynch and two other criminals, plan to rob a trucking company.

Except for the fact that they end up killing some guards and some cops as well, the heist goes pretty smoothly. Unfortunately, the guard they thought was on their side blows his cover and gets caught. Rolling over on Tony and John Lynch, the guard fingers them without hesitation.

To make matters worse, the cops try to arrest Tony just as he's pounding his super-hard cock into the excessively moist pussy of his platinum blonde lady-friend. And even though a shirtless Tony makes a valiant effort to escape, he's arrested on the front lawn of his safe-house. In a way, it serves Tony right, as he now knows what it feels like to have his cock cock-blocked by outside forces beyond his cock's control.

Meanwhile, at a local eatery, John Lynch, who is surrounded by a bevy of gorgeous women, including the busty blonde with killer thighs and Casey (who is wearing a teal zebra print leotard), is confronted by the cops and arrested on the spot.

Just like the truck depot heist, the scene where Tony's brother (Alexander Virden) and his uncle Loony (Jimmy Williams) rescue Tony and John Lynch while they were on their way to prison plays out like a video game side mission.

When Tony's brother is shot in the abdomen by one of the guards, Tony and John Lynch decide to hole up in a house located on a horse ranch. Arriving while Jenny and Doris (Veronica Paul) are lounging by the pool, Tony and John Lynch would have got the jump on them had it not been the latter's proclivity for hot chicks.

And believe me, Jenny (pink bikini) and Doris (red bikini) are hot chicks.

They eventually get inside the house, where Tony tells Jenny to take care of his brother (she's apparently a nurse or something) or else he'll kill Doris.

I think I speak for almost everyone when I say the leggy lady cop in the short skirt deserves more screen time.

The world's of Amir Shervan and Andy Sidaris briefly collide when Harold Diamond shows up. An "actor" best known for being in Andy Sidaris'Hard Ticket to Hawaii and Picasso Trigger, Harold Diamond plays the so-called man of the house and is none-to-pleased when he finds out that his wife, his sister-in-law and his annoying blonde son are being held captive by a bunch of ruthless criminals.

Directed to a Nevada cat house called "The Gay Paris" located just outside of Mosquito Springs by one of Tony's associates, Lt. Sunset (Jim Brown) is hot on the heels of Tony and John Lynch. I know, you're wondering why he's directed to a cat house and not Harold Diamond's ranch. Well, it's simple, really. You see, Tony's stepmother works at "The Gay Paris," and Lt. Sunset knows for a fact that she is in possession of the money from the truck depot score.

Figuring that Tony will try to contact his stepmother, Lt. Sunset, along with Choo-Choo, a cop who looks like a pimp, head over to "The Gay Paris" to have a chat with Tony's stepmother.

Did I really say the busty blonde in the new wave leotard had "killer thighs"? Don't get me wrong, they're still killer. But if her thighs are killer, then how would you describe the thighs attached to the organic structure belonging to the blonde in the red short-shorts at "The Gay Paris"?

Either way, the blonde with the more killer than usual thighs is the first to greet Lt. Sunset and Choo-Choo when they arrive at "The Gay Paris."

Informing her fellow floozies that a man is coming, the blonde with the explosive thighs (yeah, explosive thighs, I like that) immediately starts pawing at Choo-Choo the moment he walks in the door. Say what you will about Choo-Choo's fashion sense, the way he gravitated towards the blonde with the explosive thighs was one of the sanest decisions I've ever seen captured on film.

I don't mean to imply that choosing any of the other leggy floozies would have been crazy. I'm just saying, the blonde with the explosive thighs is in a league of her own.

If you remember my review of Amir Shervan's Hollywood Cop, I was forced to flesh out the leggy floozies in the film's prerequisite leggy floozy scene myself. Giving each leggy floozy her own back-story based on the leggy or not-so leggy way they sat on the couch, I struggled to come up something interesting to say about each leggy floozy.

This was not the case with the leggy floozy scene in Killing American Style, as each leggy floozy is given a liquid-based innuendo to spout at Jim Brown, whose fully-engorged black genitals must have been aching to break-free from their navy chino prison after this scene was over.

Swarming around Jim Brown like a pack of wild animals, each leggy floozy takes turns propositioning him with a liquid-based innuendo.

The first, a blonde in a short skirt and black pantyhose, says to Lt. Sunset: "Hi, I've got champagne... everything inside me bubbles."

Seconds later, a floozy with reddish hair, approaches Lt. Sunset from the other side and says: "Hi, I've got some soft drinks... everything about me is soft."

Another floozy with reddish hair (her tight dress has these cool coloured squares down the side), holds up her drinks and says: "I've got the hard stuff... 'cause I love it hard."

If you think that's it as far as floozies go, think again: A brunette in blue says: "Honey, they say I'm backward because I like it in the back." Okay, now they're not even trying anymore. Not only is what she said not liquid-based, it was barely an innuendo.

Finally grabbing a drink from the tray being carried by a blonde with a white fur boa, Lt. Sunset tries to get down to business, but a racially ambiguous blonde in pink, who calls herself, "Heavenly," insists on sticking her tongue in his ear.

When Choo-Choo, the floozy in the coloured square dress, the blonde with the explosive thighs, and the bubble-laden vagina chick see this unorthodox ear cleaning taking place, they all laugh. And with that, ends one of the greatest scenes in cinema history.

Much to my chagrin, the action soon returns to the ranch house (noooo!). It's too bad the whole film couldn't have been about Jim Brown and Choo-Choo fending off the advances of an armada of leggy floozies, because this home invasion plot isn't scratching me where I itch anymore, especially since Jenny and Doris have changed out of their bikinis. Yada, yada, yada, things spiral out of control, and Harold Diamond shows his Asian doctor friend how to kill... American style. The end.

Like any sane person, I love Robert Z'Dar (Samurai Cop and Killing American Style). But even a die hard Z'Darian from the mean streets of Z'ha'dum like myself should have run like hell away from Run Like Hell. Just a second, let me read that opening line one more time before I continue. Ugh, that's pure hackery. Let's start over, but let's keep the opening line there as a gentle reminder of how things could have went. Now, I've seen plenty of women in prison movies in my day. And one of my favourite things about the genre, besides the fact that they usually feature tough-looking chicks locked behind bars, and, not to mention, lot's of lesbians, is that moment when they reveal the outfit the women will be wearing during their stay in the pokey. As I've said many times before, the grey smocks paired with the dark charcoal grey hold-up stockings ensemble worn by Laura Gemser and co. in Bruno Mattei's Women's Prison Massacre is hands down the best of all the women in prison get-ups I've seen over the years. Maybe so, but I would most definitely place the black thongs the ladies wear in Robert Rundle's exceedingly incompetent Run Like Hell in the top five.

Oh, and if you're wondering what else they wear with their black thongs, don't bother. In this women's prison, all you're given is a black thong.

In other words, when Elsa (Dree Lange), a feisty blonde with short blonde hair; Darla (Colleen Corrigan), a trailer park brunette with long brunette hair; Shotgun (Liz Davies), a flat-chested brunette with medium-length brunette hair; and Sally (Elizabeth Prince), a clueless brunette long brunette hair, break out of a prison designed specifically to house "single women," they do so wearing nothing but black thongs.

The reason I put "single women" in quotes is because the year is 2008, and being a single woman is now illegal. Unmarried women are routinely rounded up by bounty hunters and brought to a prison run by–wait for it–Robert Z'Dar.

When the four escapees, who are armed with shotguns and pistols, began roaming the wasteland beyond the prison walls, I thought to myself: These chicks aren't going to spend the rest of the movie roaming the desert in nothing but black thongs, are they? Of course, part of me hoped that they would. But the other part of me, the more sensible part, realized that it was somewhat impractical to have them prancing around in black thongs for the entire movie.

Either way, the amount of time they spend wearing nothing black thongs once outside the prison walls is rather lengthy. Which makes sense, as there's no Gap in this universe.

Nevertheless, the scene where the four escapees do eventually put some clothes on is pretty harrowing. Seriously, think about it, what if they end up changing into puke green muumuus?

Except for Shotgun (who is named so because... uh, she loves shotguns?!?), all the women of section 44A put on jean shorts, after their thong-raising escape. Wait, did I say, "thong-raising"? I meant to say, hair-raising. But now that I think about it, thong-raising is rather apt. In fact, you could call the film, Four Thongs and a Shotgun Funeral.

You can tell right away that Elsa is the one you shouldn't mess with out the four former thong wearers. Though, I suppose they're still wearing their thongs. I mean, I don't see why they wouldn't just slide their newly acquired jean shorts over their already thong-ensnared undercarriages.

Anyway, I liked way Elsa told one of the creeps at the division outpost to stop calling her "Shortcake."

While Elsa is clearly the one you don't want to mess with (there's nothing short or cake-like about her), Elizabeth Prince, the actress who plays Sally, is the one you don't want doing anything. What I'm trying to say is, she's a terrible actress. I don't know if I was seeing things, but I could have sworn she was running in place while firing her shotgun.

You would think that Robert Z'Dar's warden character would be stressed out over the escape. But judging the way he's hosting group sex parties in his office, I'd say he's pretty relaxed. That being said, Z'Dar does hire a bounty hunter and his droid sidekick to bring back his escaped prisoners. If anything, he desperately wants to shoot his hearty z'wad all over Shotgun's non-existent z'tits.

Convinced that the prisoners will be headed to "Paradise City,"* Robert Z'Dar tells the bounty hunter to inflict as much pain as possible on them if he can't capture them alive.

If you thought the shoot outs were poorly staged, you should see the fight scenes. I don't think I saw a single blow come anywhere close to making contact during this movie. I know, you're not supposed to really hit the other actors. But missing by five feet? C'mon, you can get a little closer than that.

Realizing that Elizabeth Prince is beyond horrible, the plot conveniently kills off her character soon after the women team up with Jag (Henry Olvera), a friendly ninja. Oh, and don't let his friendly demenour fool you, he will straight-up karate chop anyone who as much as looks at him funny.

If we didn't have enough to contend with as far as subplots go, two new characters are added to the mix. A bounty hunter named Steel has been hired to transport a young woman in torn jeans back to her parents. Only problem being, the wasteland is filled with gun-toting mutants, slave traders and murderous cyborgs. Meaning, good luck getting your cargo to safety in one piece.

In case we weren't paying attention the first time around, a second all-girl prison brawl is staged for all us absentminded losers out there. It was during one of these brawls that it dawned on me that this film must possess the record for having the most black thongs onscreen in a single shot.

Speaking of thongs, yet another subplot is introduced when we meet a thong-clad (duh) inmate who excepts drugs and money as payment from a guard to have sex with him. The great thing about this scene is that the thong-clad inmate's thong wasn't black. Uh-uh, it had a floral bent to it. Of course, the other great thing was the pleasing shape of her boo-tay.

Even though I've written plenty about it, I feel I should stop typing words in correlation with this movie. It doesn't deserve all this attention. You would think Run Like Hell was on the same level as Robot Holocaust or Things judging by the amount of time I've spent going on about it. But trust me, despite its thong-friendly pedigree, it isn't. Run Like Hell is just plain awful.

* It's not that I'm above making a Guns N' Roses reference, it's just that I'm not comfortable making one so obvious.

Judging by the way the harsh light of day cascaded off her legs as she sat on the pavement outside the entrance of the Crockfield Mall in suburban Baltimore, I'd say they were sheathed in a pair of tan pantyhose (legs in hose shimmer, legs not in hose... well, they... um... I think I'm going to be sick... ugh... let's try not dwell on hose-free gams, shall we?). Grabbing the foot that had just been stomped on by Dexter Fishpaw, a.k.a. The Baltimore Foot-Stomper, Shirley Evans (Susan Lowe), a.k.a. "The Mall Victim," cries out for help. But no assistance is forthcoming. Instead, she must sit there and watch as Dexter dances around her in a frenzied manner; his outward expression of arousal no doubt pressing tightly against the fly of his jeans as he danced... frenziedly. Later that week, Dexter is in the supermarket combing the aisles for a pair of feet worthy enough to stomp. Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, he spots a vision of foot-based loveliness in a tartan skirt and a snug-fitting burgundy sweater. Following the unnamed "Supermarket Victim" (Marina Melin) as she enters the aisle that contains products that boast water-soluble cleansing agents, Dexter can hardly contain his excitement, as her feet are simply sublime.

Overwhelmed by the erotic potency her feet are putting out there (the firmness of her black tights causes her feet to excrete a pungent odor that only he can smell), Dexter begins to fall over. Luckily for him, a shelf stacked with nothing but roll after roll of paper towels manages to break his fall.

Composing himself, Dexter approaches the supermarket victim and stomps of her left foot with all of his might. However, unlike the foot stomping that took place outside the mall entrance, two men come to the supermarket victim's aid almost immediately. Meaning, just as Dexter's outward expression of arousal was about to press tightly against the fly of his jeans, he's thrown into a giant stack of canned peas.

Oh, hello. This site hasn't, believe or not, turned into the place to satisfy all your Dexter Fishpaw fan fiction needs. It's still the place to read overlong essays about "cult movies." That being said, I felt compelled to start off my review of John Waters'Polyester with a piece that focuses primarily on the two instances in the film where Dexter Fishpaw is shown doing what he does best. And that is, stomping on women's feet.

The reason I felt compelled to do is easy, I admire the heck out of Dexter Fishpaw (Ken King), the combat boot-wearing, foot-obsessed rapscallion who also inhales solvents and does angel dust. Why? It's simple, really, he's passionate about something that doesn't exactly gel with mainstream society. Yet, at the same time, he doesn't seem to care what this so-called "mainstream society" might think about his varied interests.

Of course, a lot of you are probably wondering why I didn't start off my review with a tangent about Mink Stole in black stockings (attached to a black garter belt, no less). Well, I thought about doing that, but Dexter Fishpaw's plot line was impossible to ignore.

I know, the sight of Mink Stole, one of my favourite people in the known universe, prancing about in black stockings and cornrows(!) is impossible to ignore as well. But Dexter Fishpaw's plot line has so many ups and downs. And not only that, Dexter's foot stomping, if you think about it, actually prevents outside forces from destroying the Fishpaw way of life.

And what exactly does this way of life entail, you ask? Well, for one thing, it doesn't involve being humiliated by your porno theatre-owning husband on a daily basis. Poor Francine Fishpaw (Divine), all she wants to do live a normal, semi-productive life. Unfortunately for her, civil society has gone to shit.

The smut peddling antics of her husband, Elmer Fishpaw (David Samson) are bringing unwanted attention to her quiet cul-de-sac, her son Dexter is the Baltimore Foot-Stomper, her daughter, Lu-Lu Fishpaw (Mary Garlington), is a trampy Farrah Fawcett wannabe who's dating a scumbag named Bo-Bo Belsinger (Stiv Bators), and her mother is in cahoots with a shady Lothario named Todd Tomorrow (Tab Hunter). So, as you can see, Francine has no choice but to start drinking heavily.

To make matters worse, Lu-Lu is learning about her cervix at school and she's driving around Baltimore with Bo-Bo hitting non-wasp pedestrians with a broom. As terrible as the latter sounds, Bo-Bo meets his match when he stumbles upon Jean Hill while she's waiting for a bus. Remember when Jean Hill said in Desperate Living that she doesn't want no white man lookin' at her Tampax? Well, in this film, she doesn't want no white man hitting her in the ass with a broom, so she hijacks a bus, chases Bo-Bo down, bites one of his tires and beats the crap out of him.

At any rate, if that wasn't enough, Lu-Lu tells her mother that she's going to get a job as a go-go dancer at The Flaming Cave.

While having a lunch with her friend Cuddles (Edith Massey), a woman her mother describes as a "retarded scrubwoman," Francine gets a phone call from Susan Sullivan (Mink Stole), her husband's "secretary."

Sitting on Elmer's desk, Susan Sullivan hangs up the phone and begins to giggle while jiggling... or is she jiggling while giggling?!? Either way, Mink Stole is in black lingerie and I couldn't be more pleased by what is transpiring onscreen.

I don't know what it is about John Waters and heterosexuality, but like Mink Stole and David Lochary's relationship in Pink Flamingos (as Connie and Raymond Marble) and Mary Vivian Pearce and David Lochary's relationship in Female Trouble (as Donald and Donna Dasher), the pairing of Mink Stole and David Samson (as Susan Sullivan and Elmer Fishpaw) in Polyester depicts heterosexuality in a positive light.

Most movies look down on heterosexuality, but the films of John Waters seem to embrace it.

Suspecting that her husband is having an affair with his "secretary," Francine asks Cuddles to spy on them. However, before Cuddles can report back Francine, Lu-Lu tells her that she's two months pregnant. Which leads to this little nugget of scripted sunshine: "I'm getting an abortion and I can't wait." Just for the record, that particular passage is my second favourite line in the entire movie.

What's that? You wanna know what my favourite is. As luck would have it, it's coming right up.

Tracking Elmer and Susan down at a sleazy motel, Francine and Cuddles burst into their room to discover them sitting on the bed together. While that sounds innocuous, if you look closely, you'll notice that Elmer is drinking champagne out of one of Susan's red pumps. And you know what that means, right? Exactly, Mink Stole's nylon-ensnared feet are exposed for the world to see. And the world agrees, it's a beautiful thing.

Huh? Oh yeah, my favourite line. After the word divorce bandied about, Francine asks about Elmer's commitment to Dexter and Lu-Lu, Susan chimes in by saying: "Children would get in the way of our erotic lifestyle." I know, it's not quite up there with " I wouldn't suck your lousy dick if I was suffocating and there was oxygen in your balls! or "Tell your mother I hate her! Tell your mother I hate you!" as far as Mink-isms go, but I like the idea of people foregoing the drudgery of child rearing to live erotic lifestyles.

Putting aside the novelty that is "Odorama" (numbers appear on the screen periodically instructing you to sniff, using your Odorama card, a series of foul-smelling odors), Polyester was turning point for John Waters. The amateur, do-it-yourself aesthetic of his previous films has been replaced with helicopter shots, steadicam shots and professional stunts. The biggest change, however, comes in the form of Divine, who, for the first time in his career, is playing a part not associated with his Divine persona. At the time, this was seen as a bit of a gamble, but Divine, channeling his beloved Elizabeth Taylor, is pretty convincing as a stressed out housewife.

Mixing the crude humour and the social satire of his underground movies and combining it with classic Hollywood filmmaking techniques (think Douglas Sirk meets Russ Meyer), John Waters's Polyester is the best of both worlds. Competently made filth.

If I told you there was a machete-wielding maniac in a hockey mask lurking in the crawlspace of your apartment building, I bet most of you would probably respond to this news by letting out an exaggerated yawn. Same goes if I told you there was a one liner spouting, knife glove sporting burn victim in a fedora sashaying around in your building's heating ducts as well. However, if I were to knock on your door and inform you that Klaus Kinski... Wait, where are you going? Don't run away, I didn't finish my sentence. Oh, I know what just happened, simply the mere mention of Klaus Kinski's name caused a sizable amount of my vast readership to flee in terror. Well, those of you who were brave enough to stick around need to be commended. I mean, think about it, Klaus Kinski (Slaughter Hotel) is not only watching you get undressed through the slits in your heating vent, he's an euthanasia enthusiast with ties to National Socialism.

Each day, Klaus Kinski, or, I should say, Karl Günther, begins his day by cutting his finger and smearing the blood the cut produces on a bullet. After the bullet has been properly coated with blood, Karl loads the bloodstained bullet into a pistol. Spinning the cylinder, Karl places the barrel of the gun against his temple. Without hesitating, Karl pulls the trigger. If the gun fails to go off, Karl says, "so be it," and carries on with the rest of his day.

Unfortunately, the rest of his day usually involves tormenting the female tenants who live in his building utilizing a wide array of techniques.

We get a first-hand demonstration of one of these techniques, when we see a tenant (Sherry Buchanan) murdered by one of Karl's gruesome booby traps in the film's opening scene.

You know what this means, right? Yep, there's an apartment in his building that's available to rent. When a man (played by the film's director David Schmoeller) attempts to rent the now vacant apartment, Karl tells him the apartment is taken. But we know the apartment isn't taken. You see, Karl has a strict no men allowed rule at his building. Of course, there's no sign stating the building doesn't allow male tenants. But judging by the amount of attractive women currently living in the building, there might as well be.

Since Lori Bancroft (Talia Balsam) is an attractive woman, she's quickly accepted as a tenant. Personally, if I was a creepy landlord who only allowed attractive women to rent apartments in his building, I would have rejected Lori. Why? It's simple, really. Sure, she's attractive and junk, but she has no personality. And get this, she dresses like a farmer. And because of these things, I was unable to root for her character when a series of Klaus Kinski-based obstacles are inevitably put in her way.

Thankfully, the other female tenants are able to pick up some of the slack. Unlike Lori, whose character isn't fleshed out at all, the other female tenants are stylish, modern women who are unafraid to take full advantage of what the 1980s have to offer in terms of colourful couture.

Oh, and if the music in the opening scene sounds familiar, that's because it was used in Brian De Palma's Body Double. At least I think it was. Either way, Pino Donaggio (Brain De Palma's favourite composer) is responsible for this film's score.

The first couture advantageous woman we meet is Sophie (Tane McClure), who is cutting holes in her red bra with a pair of scissors as two voyeurs watch from various vantage points. One is a guy named Hank (David Abott), who is outside watching through her window, and the other is Klaus Kinski, who is watching her from inside her heating vent. You'd think that Klaus Kinski would be the one she would be the most worried about, but it's Hank who poses the bigger threat. Or does he?

After waiting for Sophie to remove her red stockings (which we don't get a clear shot of), Hank enters her apartment. Hearing a noise, Sophie asks, "Who's there"? Wait a minute, Hank's no prowler, he's Sophie's boyfriend. I thought Sophie's demenour was a little too showy. It was obvious, now that I think about it, that Sophie was performing for an audience.

Yeah, she was performing an audience, but an audience of one, not two. In other words, Sophie has no idea Klaus Kinski is watching her demand that Hank not cum before she does. At any rate, on top of being into self-ventilated lingerie and rape fantasy, Sophie is also a singer, and, judging by the huge picture on her wall, a Barbra Streisand fan.

Bumping into Harriet (Barbara Whinnery) while bringing her groceries in, Klaus Kinski, like the true gentlemen that he is, helps her out. Noticing that she has lot's of candy in her bag, Klaus Kinski asks Harriet if she has a sweet tooth. I'll admit, liking candy isn't much as far as character development goes, but it's more than we know about Lori.

Maybe we'll learn more about her in the next scene, when Sophie, Harriet and Jessica (Carole Francis) invite Lori over to have tequila milkshakes and talk about boys. We don't learn anything about her right away, but we do get to hear Harriet describe her ex-boyfriend as "untenable, unemployed, uncivilized, uncouth and uncool." I don't know 'bout you, but there's nothing sexier than a woman with a Southern accent saying five un-words in quick succession.

It's not much, but it would seem that Lori doesn't hop up on furniture when she sees a rat (ever the prankster, Klaus Kinski lets loose a rat to break up the girl party). The only reason I can come up as to why Klaus unleashed the rat is that he was angry they didn't invite him. You might not know it to look at him, but Klaus Kinski loves tequila milkshakes.

Just kidding, he probably doesn't. What he does love is murder. And he loves writing about that love in his journal. Apparently a doctor at one time, Klaus Kinski used to kill his patients. But now, you guessed it, he kills his tenants. Since being a crazed shut-in and the son of a Nazi doctor responsible for performing grisly experiments on human subjects can be quite lonesome, Klaus talks to the woman (Sally Brown) he keeps locked in a cage. In order to keep her from talking back, he's removed her tongue, which he keeps in a nearby jar.

Speaking of which, the shelf he keeps the jar with the tongue in it will soon have company, as Klaus Kinski adds a jar with eyeballs and a jar with a finger to his ghastly collection. The finger belongs to Alfred (Jack Heller), Jessica's hoity-toity boyfriend. When Alfred tells Jessica, who is wearing a chic pink and black dress with black opera gloves, that she is "absolutely charming," I was like, duh, any idiot can see that. If I was in charge of things, I would have cast Carole Francis as the lead. Okay, maybe not the lead, but would have definitely given her more than two scenes. I mean, what a rip off.

On the film's IMDb page in the "goofs" section, it mentions the fact that the vents in Klaus Kinski are completely dust-free. How is this goof? It's obvious to anyone with half a brain that Klaus Kinski cleans the vents on a regular basis. Anyway, Crawlspace is an okay thriller with a nice claustrophobic feel about it (we never venture outside the film's central location) and it boasts an effectively creepy performance by Klaus Kinski; even though no woman in her right mind would live in the same building with him.

Even though the music industry depicted in this movie doesn't exist anymore (believe or not, in 1996, bands the world over would submit their music to so-called "taste-makers" in the hope that they would bestow upon them something known as a "record deal"), that doesn't mean Drop Dead Rock is irrelevant. On the contrary, there are still millions of deluded souls out there who possess very little in the talent department who expect to become to rich and famous. Only difference being, the scumbags who used to be in charge weeding out the talentless have been replaced by washed up has-beens and shiftless sycophants. Oh, I don't mean to imply the people who preceded the washed up has-beens and the shiftless sycophants were saints (despite the fact I called them scumbags), I'm just saying... Wait, what am I saying? Oh, I remember, the music industry is a cesspool, and this mildly satirical enterprise, co-written and directed by Adam Dubin ("Fight For Your Right To Party" and "No Sleep Till Brooklyn"), lands a few well-placed punches on its greedy, scab-laden face.

Woo-hoo! I just did a whole paragraph without mentioning Shelly Mars' surprisingly sexy stems, Shoshana Ami's jet black, Long Island garage-quality pantyhose, Apollo Smile's shapely calves encased in radioactive fishnets, Chelsey Parks' robust ex-porn star thighs, or the tops of Deborah Harry's tan stockings. I deserve a treat.

Seriously, someone give me a treat. Actually, you know who should give me a treat? Adam Dubin and his writing partner Ric Menello (Tougher Than Leather), that's who. You see, by reviewing this film, I'm giving it my stamp of approval. And in turn, increasing its profile in the cult movie universe. You could say, I'm a taste-maker. Except, I'm not a scumbag, nor am I shiftless sycophant (the jury's still out on my status as a washed-up has-been).

Anyway, I can just picture Adam Dubin and Ric Menello patiently wondering when Yum-Yum is going to get off his butt watch their movie.

Think about, their movie contains a lesbian rock drummer with amazing legs, a Long Island floozy who wants to either replace Vanna White on Wheel of Fortune or Dian Parkison on The Price Is Right, a brain-dead VJ who lounges like a goddess, an ex-porn star who continues to practice her fake moaning despite being an ex-porn star, and a middle-aged new wave legend... who proves she's still got it.

In other words, they must be thinking to themselves: If our movie contains such a high degree of awesomeness, why hasn't he watched it yet? Um, hello, it might have took a little longer than you expected, but I finally got around to watching your movie. And I must say, it was totally worth it.

Following the ups and downs of a Long Island rock band called "Hindenburg," the film, which premiered at a film festival in Aberystwyth, Wales back in 1995, opens with the band failing to gain any traction using traditional methods. All but blacklisted from the lucrative L.I. battle of bands circuit, Hindenburg are in desperate need of a break.

When their drummer dies after a light falls on him, their clueless leader, Chick (Robert Occhipinti), decides (after a brief run as a power trio) to audition a new drummer. Only, Dino (Todd Anthony), their clueless bass player, and Scratch (Riz Fairchild), their clueless guitar player, weren't expecting Chick to hire a chick. That's right, it's time for the gorgeousness that is performance artist Shelly Mars to make her presence felt.

Playing Andie, a take no shit lesbian (the best kind) who knows her way around a drum-kit, Shelly Mars wipes the floor with the other actors, as their charisma-challenged personalities simply crumble before the majesty that is Miss Mars.

Though, I have to say, Chick's girlfriend, Bonnie (Shoshana Ami), does wear tight purple pants (with a purple top and a purple scrunchie) in her first scene. And that does manage to undermine some of Shelly Mars' innate sex appeal.

Which reminds me, she may be sexy, but Andie bristles when Chick implies that she needs a makeover. Telling him straight-up that she's not going to be, and I quote: "Some half-assed wet dream to a bunch of slobbering orangutans in Metallica t-shirts," Andie makes it clear that she ain't no bimbo.

Speaking of bristling and bimbos, Bonnie bristles when Andie mentions the word "bimbo," but the latter is able to placate the situation by saying "no offense" (while gesturing toward Bonnie) immediately after saying the b-word. This allows Bonnie to say, "none taken."

My favourite non-tight purple pants moment during this sequence is when Dino tries to hit on Andie after she officially becomes a member of Hindenburg. The look of surprise on Dino's face when he finds out Andie is a lesbian is adorable. Things get even more adorable when Dino (a.k.a. Sheldon) says, "You like girls?!?" To which Andie replies, "Don't you?" Realizing that they both dig the ladies, Andie and Dino are now best buds for life.

Even though the new line up is gelling, the members of Hindenburg are still depressed about the lack interest in their music. That all changes when the band see a music video on television by Spazz-O (Ian Maynard), a punk rock singer who seems modeled after the likes of Ian Dury and Sigue Sigue Sputnik. Watching him perform his classic early '80s song, "Inseminator" ("I'm your inseminator... your midnight infiltrator"), Chick, Scratch, Dino and Andie come up with the idea to kidnap Spazz-O and force him to listen to their music.

Actually, it's Andie who comes up with the idea to kidnap Spazz-O; on top of bringing some much needed sex appeal to the band, Andie is full of ideas. Only problem being, the plan is a tad on the flawed side. But more on that in a second, as Andie is about unleash the raw, erection-causing power that are her shapely gams on an unsuspecting Spazz-O.

If you're wondering why Bonnie wasn't used to lure Spazz-O. It's because Bonnie can't be trusted to perform even the simplest of tasks. Besides, have you seen Andie in a tight red dress? It's quite the sight to behold. Anyway, showing up at Spazz-O's hotel room in the aforementioned red dress, Andie seduces the aging rocker with a breathtaking ease.

Employing her legs like they were a pair of flesh-covered swords dipped in lukewarm molasses, Andie has Spazz-O eating out of the palm of her hand in no time. Grabbing him just as he was about to mount Andie, the band stuff Spazz-O into one of them wheeled music cases and take him to Dino's parents' garage out on Long Island.

If only the members of Hindenburg could have seen the way Spazz-O treated his fans in an earlier scene, they would have probably thought twice about kidnapping this colossal wanker.

Someone who knows first-hand what a colossal wanker Spazz-O is, is his manager, Dave Donovan (Adam Ant), who, along with Holly Everest (Chelsey Parks), Spazz-O's ex-porn star wife, conspires to have him killed. The only problem with that plan being, the members of Hindenburg kidnap Spazz-O just as the assassin (Glenn Rothenberger) they hired was about to do him in.

After hurling a wide array of insults at the members of Hindenburg while tied to a chair in Dino's parents' garage (my personal fave was "you pathetic, prattling, pinko, pimple-faced poofters"), Spazz-O eventually calms down when he realizes that they only want him to listen to their music.

You would think Hindenburg's music was the worst thing ever judging by the way people react when they listen to it. Nevertheless, the members of Hindenburg soon discover that having a washed up punk rocker locked in your garage is a lot of work. Enduring a barrage of verbal abuse, being given an unrealistic list of demands, and having to put up with multiple escape attempts, Hindenburg, like Adam Ant, begin to wish Spazz-O was dead, or at least wish they never kidnapped him.

Pretty soon, however, the kidnapping becomes nationwide news, as MVN (Music Video News), the police, a record exec named Thor Sturmundrang (Deborah Harry) and the Moldinian Front (Free Moldinia!!!) all take an interest in the Spazz-O saga. You could say, being kidnapped is the best thing to happen to Spazz-O's career in years.

A cross between, oh, let's say, Weekend at Bernie's, Breaking Glass, and Ladies and Gentlemen - The Fabulous Stains, Drop Dead Rock, despite having a super-small budget, is easy on the eyes (thanks to costume designer Laura Jean Shannon), is whimsical in places and even boasts several moments that are on the cusp of being funny.

Just as I was about to declare Deborah Harry's finest moment in Drop Dead Rock to be the part where she calls Chick, Dino and Scratch: "Prick, Dildo and Snatch," she inadvertently shows us the tops of stockings while sitting next to a Spazz-O-fied Shelly Mars on a hotel sofa. I was like, I can see the top of your stockings, Debbie Harry. Wait a minute, forget about "inadvertently," Debbie totally knew the tops of her stockings as she sat cross-legged next to Shelly Mars, as the Blondie front-woman is always aware or not if the tops of her stockings are showing.

Oh, and during the montage that featured various real rock musicians talking about Spazz-O, Rick Allen of Def Leppard is the only one who was genuinely funny.

Unholy Rollers (Vernon Zimmerman, 1972)

The Dark Backward (Adam Rifkin, 1991)

The Great Texas Dynamite Chase (Michael Pressman, 1976)

Showgirls 2: Penny's from Heaven (Rena Riffel, 2011)

Hanger (Ryan Nicholson, 2009)

Sid and Nancy (Alex Cox, 1986)

Excision (Richard Bates Jr., 2012)

Straight to Hell (Alex Cox, 1987)

Killer Party (William Fruet, 1986)

Wet Hot American Summer (David Wain, 2001)

State Park (Rafal Zielinski, 1988)

The Hidden (Jack Sholder, 1987)

Big Meat Eater (Chris Windsor, 1982)

The Bikini Carwash Company (Ed Hansen, 1992)

The American Astronaut (Cory McAbee, 2001)

Killing American Style (Amir Shervan, 1990)

Run Like Hell (Robert Rundle, 1995)

Polyester (John Waters, 1981)

Crawlspace (David Schmoeller, 1986)

Drop Dead Rock (Adam Dubin, 1996)