Stripped to Kill (1987)

Directed by Katt Shea
Starring Kay Lenz, Greg Evigan, Norman Fell
Rated R
USA

"You are the worst dancer I ever saw in my life. You're hired."

Katt Shea is a remarkable actress/director who works exclusively in the seamy world of horror, b-movies, and exploitation. She spent a good part of the 80's in a bikini, appearing in classic jiggle-fests like Hollywood Hot Tubs, RSVP, and Preppies, but she spent just as much time behind the camera. Her more well-known directorial efforts include the Drew Barrymore stalker flick Poison Ivy (1992), which spawned a still-churning series of sequels, and the unforgettable The Rage: Carrie 2 (1999), one of the 90's more audacious horror-flicks, but Stripped to Kill and it's equally bonkers sequel remain Shea's high-water mark. What was clearly intended to be just another bland erotic thriller turns into a festering cauldron of sleaze in Shea's capable hands, as drug strippers, stripper-cops, gender-bending weirdos, one-armed masturbators, and Greg Evigan in full creep mode all collide in an orgy of tits, blood, and bad fun.

Like many Roger Corman productions, Stripped to Kill boasts an impressive opening credits sequence. In this case, it's stripper footage over a crazy, tone-deaf metal tune called Deny the Night by one Larry Streicher. It sounds like Karaoke night at the local insane asylum. The perfect intro to the escapade that follows.

Mr Roper himself, the great Norman Fell, is Ray, the owner and operator of Rock Bottom, a low-rent LA stripclub with a very big problem - somebody's dousing his strippers with gasoline and setting them ablaze.  The actual deaths don't bother Ray that much - he's a pretty jaded cat - but hiring new dancers all the time is a major drag.

Luckily for Ray, the vice squad is on the case. Detective Heineman (Greg Evigan) and Detective Cody (Kay Lenz) are assigned to solve the stripper-murders, so naturally Cody  goes undercover as a stripper for a night. A tomboy by nature, she is not thrilled with the idea, but it does seem like a valid plan.

It's Cody's first time on stage, so Heineman and half the force, naturally, come to watch. She is not very good. But the crowd is full of ringers, so she wins amateur night - 300 bucks! By the way, amateur night at the strip club looks like the most fun ever.

The stripteases continue. There's a very suspicious character in the front-row wearing a dirty hooded sweatshirt and headphones, but nobody really notices. Weirdos are a dime-a-dozen in this joint. One stripper, Cinnamon (one-time actress Carlye Byron), falls off the stage halfway through her routine and lands in the weirdo's lap. So that was cool. Ray doesn't care for her pill-popping antics, though, so he fires her.

So, Cinnamon's out, and Ray needs a dancer. Cody's horrible, but she's available.

A humiliated Cinnamon takes off, but there's a stripper-killer on the loose, and she ends up on the chopping block. Not only does she get brutally murdered, but the killer straps her under a truck so that her bloodied body gets dragged down the street. Yikes!

Meanwhile, detective Heineman follows Cody home and says, "If I see any more tits I'm gonna throw up."
He's a very strange guy. Also meanwhile, Det. Cody's act improves greatly. In fact, Miss Lenz shows considerable skill in the dancing-naked arena.

However, it turns our that cody's supposed to be off the case - she finds out that she wasn't even supposed to be stripping. But now she's too embroiled in it to quit. Also, she has passionate semi-hate sex on the floor with Greg Evigan. It was bound to happen. Who can resist Greg Evigan in acid-wash?

Then Heineman does some sleuthing and figures out sweatshirt-dude can't possibly be the killer because, well, it turns out he doesn't have the proper equipment, so to speak, for a rapin' and killin' spree.

And so we get to the shocking - although sorta obvious - twist. And then things really get nuts with a nihilistic killing spree climax full of blood, screaming, fire, bullets, sexual ambiguity, and, of course, more tits-out dancing.

Aggressively bizarre and pervasively sleazy, Stripped to Kill is a mesmerizing mess that seems more like some late 60's grindhouse roughie than the glossy 80's late-night Skinemax fodder it was meant to be. Despite its lean and mean velocity, it's also one of the more even-handed stripper-centric flicks of the period. The Rock Bottom dancers all have realistic personalities with all the gripes, aspirations, and gallows humor you'd expect, given their occupation and the killer-on-the-loose scenario, and Shea never seems like she's judging the women for their choice of career. Fell is hilarious as the jaundiced, amoral boss, Evigan is full-tilt gonzo and playing very much against type, and Lenz looks surprisingly awesome naked. The only real gripe is the twist - anyone who's ever watched a psycho-killer since...well, since 1960's Psycho knows that anyone with gender issues is going to be the prime suspect, and Stripped to Kill gives away the game in the first five minutes. Still, even if you know where it's all going, this is one hell of a ride.

Although nothing about the original suggests a second chapter is necessary, Shea followed up with Stripped to Kill II, starring glamourpuss Maria Ford, in 1989. Both are highly recommended. Just keep a bar of soap handy.

- Ken McIntyre 

Necropolis (1987)

Directed by Bruce Hickey
Starring LeeAnne Baker, Jacquie Fitz, Michael Conte
Rated R
USA

"This is bullshit, man!"

LeeAnne Baker's mid 80's reign as an east coast b-goddess was brief but remarkable. Razor-coiffed, whippet-thin, and icy-cool, she was the polar opposite of LA's chesty, hairspray-powered scream queens, and she quickly became a instantly recognizable fixture in low-budget flicks shot in and around New York.  She was in and out of the biz in just two years, but all seven of the films she acted in retain some level of cult status, most notably Tim Kincaid's frequently jaw-dropping alien sperm slurper Breeders (1986) and Gorman Bechard's Connecticut-based comedies Psychos in Love (1987) and Galactic Gigolo (1988). While definitely more obscure than the others, Necropolis - AKA "The movie with the six-titted punk rock witch" - is a crucial piece of the Baker puzzle, since it remains her sole starring role.  Directed by future acting teacher Bruce Hickey, Necropolis is quintessential 80's direct-to-VHS shlock, a threadbare but enthusiastic riot of leather miniskirts, honking Casios, smudged eye make-up, and Satan.

In the action-packed prologue, wicked witch/Aimee Mann doppelganger Eva (Baker), does a tits-out disco dance on a Satanic altar. We are meant to believe this is all happening in some Medieval or Victorian era, although Eva's catsuit is straight out of the 1985 Fredrick's of Hollywood catalog. Using her demonic powers, she summons a bride - halfway through her vows - to her lair, wherein she slashes her throat and slurps on her blood. The angry villagers soon follow, and one of 'em guts the witch. Profusely bleeding, Eva just laughs at the foolish mortals, and vows that she will live forever.

Cut to: NYC, circa now (or as now as 1987 ever got). Eva is, indeed, still alive. She's sporting a punky, Sharon Mitchell-esque haircut and riding a motorcycle at this point, but it's still the same ol' evil Eva. She stops by a pawn shop and inquires about a "Devil ring" (what else?).

The shaky, asthmatic, weirdly-accented hippy that runs the joint tries to help her out - even offers to taker her to Atlantic City to see Frank Sinatra - but when he cannot deliver on the ring, she uses ESP to get into his head and kill him. So that happens. And then she splits, man. She says "Man" a lot, which I admire in a 500 year old witch.

Later on, she visits the local drug treatment center and uses mind control to make one of the workers slice his own wrists. Then she steals the ring - the priest who runs the joint had it hidden in a safe - and splits again.
And then she does some more Satanic disco dancing in somebody's basement. This time, it brings a handful of snot-oozing zombies around.

Back at the scene of the crime, the detective, the priest, and a female reporter wonder out loud whether something "Weird" is going on. And they are totally right, man. Something weird is definitely up.The priest says, "People tend to reincarnate in groups", because that explains how the three of them - who were all involved in Eva's medieval murder spree - are back together in the 80's.

But never mind all of that, because the important thing to know is that Eva has now sprouted two extra sets of boobs to feed her zombie slaves with. And that's what she does, when she's not convincing hookers to kill themselves or stuffing dead dudes in fridges.

So, you know how these things go. Eva kidnaps the detective so that she can kill her again (she is/was the doomed bride from the prologue) while the detective and the priest sharpen sticks (this particular witch works like a vampire), and prepare for a climactic regular-dudes-versus-Satanic-witch-and-a-cuppla-slimy-zombies final battle.

While it does boast a couple of quick gore effects - and Baker is frequently topless - Necropolis isn't nearly the sleaze-fest it could have been. In fact, a good portion of the film's running time is taken up with the half-baked drug clinic drama and the wishy-washy romance between the reporter and the cop. Still, for 80's junkfilm spelunkers, there's a few choice nuggets to unloose - the  all-synth soundtrack is spectacularly cheeseball, the Satanic hijinks are hilariously wrong-headed, and the ethereal Baker often seems like some kind of downtown avant-garde performance artist pretending to be a zero-budget splatter-queen for the sheer subversive thrill of it all. Sure, it makes very little sense, but then the 1980's, in general, made very little sense. That was part of the charm.

- Ken McIntyre

Angel Baby (1961)

Directed by Paul Wendkos
Starring Salome Jens, George Hamilton, Burt Reynolds
Unrated
USA

"You're gonna ruin your pretty eyes on that bible, Jenny."

Paul Wendkos (RIP) directed an alarming amount of schmaltzy TV movies in his five-decade long career, and his penchant for squirmy close-ups, over-emoting actors, and bizarre extras were already in place in this early theatrical effort. While Angel Baby is, theoretically, a 'faith-based' film, Wendko's sweaty-browed direction, the inclusion of two future 70's pop-culture stars, and the general what-the-fuck atmosphere pushes this production firmly into camp territory. In fact, Angel Baby often resembles a Jesus-freaked version of one of Russ Meyer's mid-60's backwoods-noir efforts.

When we meet Jenny, the titular Angel Baby (future Star Trek star Salome Jens), she's furiously making out in the dirt with a greasy-haired Burt Reynolds. Mute since birth, it's implied that Angel is often coerced into such slatternly behavior by thugs like Burt and lacks the communication tools to avoid these erotic misadventures.

This sinful life ends abruptly when she attends a tent revival meeting hosted by a young, charismatic faith-healer named Paul Strand (George Hamilton, chewing scenery like a starving man). Strand lays hands upon Angel Baby - a no-brainer, given her Nordic features and impressive rack - and, miraculously, heals her. As her first word ever is "God", naturally, she asks to join him on his traveling salvation circus. Also naturally, given the aforementioned rack, he agrees, and Angel Baby becomes a local sensation.

And then, in a scene not entirely appropriate for two messengers-of-the-lord, Paul and Angel make out. Just a little.

This new wrinkle in the soul-savin' business does not sit well with Strand's much older wife, a fire and brimstone preacher-lady known as Sister Sarah (Mercedes McCambridge), who schemes and rages until Paul finally relents and casts his sexy young apprentice out.

At this point, however, Angel is such a local celebrity that she hires a promoter, who puts up billboards and starts selling souvenirs, knick-knacks, and even Angel Baby cure-all elixir. This all seems on the level to Angel Baby, since she's still pretty green, but her handlers, Molly and Ben (Joan Blondel and Henry Jones), suspect antics are afoot.

When the crooked promoter pays a few ringers to convince Angel Baby that she has actual healing powers herself, Molly and Ben get tanked and drunk-drive over to Paul's place at the trailer-park to tell him what's up.

Will Paul make it to tomorrow night's phony-baloney faith-healing session before preacher-girl is revealed as unwitting fraud? And while he's at it, will he leave his shrewish wife, so that he can freely make-out with the bosomy Angel Baby?

Why yes, of course. And along the way, the entire town will riot and punch each other into bloody messes for no good reason. And then they'll burn the tent down. It's gonna be nuts.

 Angel Baby's tone is never quite serious. For example, the climactic tent meeting, with extras throwing themselves in and out of the frame, looks more like a Three Stooges short than a Christian drama. The camera adoringly closes-up on Angel Baby's heaving, crucifix-clad breasts more than it needs to, Blondell and Jones basically do a vaudeville act throughout the proceedings, and the bad guy is - of all people - Burt Reynolds So, really, how seriously can you possibly take it?  Still, despite how goofy Angel Baby is, the film has reportedly saved a few 'sinners' along the way, and the bizarre coda seems to suggest that faith healing is, given the proper amount of faith, actually possible. So, if you are prone to whacked-out religious indoctrination, I suppose you should be warned. On the other hand, if you're just looking for a fun, tawdry bit of overwrought early 60's exploitation, Angel Baby is well worth seeking out. Amen.

- Ken McIntyre

Switchblade Sisters (1975)

AKA The Jezebels
Directed by Jack Hill
Starring Robbie Lee, Monica Gayle, Joanna Nail
Rated R
USA

"If you go, it's gonna end up baaaaddd!"

Jack Hill is an exploitation legend, responsible for some of the most seminal films of the golden grindhouse era, including the loopy black and white shocker Spider Baby (1968), a quartet of Pam Grier flicks, including classics Coffy (1973) and Foxy Brown (1974), timeless raunch-com The Swinging Cheerleaders (1974) and - thanks to well-heeled booster Quentin Tarantino - his most celebrated work, Switchblade Sisters. A culture-defining, genre-hopping film, Hill's girl-gang epic is at once a vivid reflection on America's Nixon-era malaise and a hysterical, operatic alt-universe violent fantasy. With hotpants.

Starring the remarkable Robbie Lee, a baby-faced pipsqueak who growls and grits her way through the role like a 40's era gangster, it's a tragic romance wrapped up in the violent world of LA street gangs. Lee is Lace, leader of the gangster-moll crew The Dagger Debs. The Debs serve as support - sexual, financial, and occasionally, as weapons smugglers - for The Silver Daggers, your standard-issue, leather-jacketed, low-level drugs and prostitution-pushing teenage thugs.

Seeing as the Daggers and the Debs are, across the  board, white and fresh-faced, Hill wisely paints a bleak backstory for Lace.  The film opens with our doomed heroine sharpening her switchblade and then nailing a rat with a bottle of perfume. In the next room, mom's getting her TV repossessed by some fat lout. Hard times. Mom gives up the rent money to keep the television, and the snickering repo man saunters out. Unfortunately for him, he ends up getting in the elevator with the Dagger-Debs, and they rob him and slash his clothes to ribbons.

The assembled Debs head over to the local burger joint to hang out with their men. We meet Daggers' boss Dom (Asher Brauner), Lace's sneering boyfriend, as well as his crew of mostly nameless and faceless brutes. Showing off her considerable muscle, Lace humilities the gang's resident doormat, Donut (Kitty Bruce, daughter of Lenny), when she asks for a cheeseburger. Interestingly, although she's supposed to the gang's token fat chick, Donut isn't even overweight by today's standards.

While chasing away the law-abiding citizens to make room for the gang, Lace messes with a new chick, Maggie (Joanna Nail), which quickly turns into a knife fight between her and Lace's right-hand girl, Patch (Monica Gayle), so named because she wears a bedazzled eyepatch. Lace is impressed with Maggie's attitude and fighting skills, and asks her if she's in a gang. Which seems likely, since she carries a switchblade and has a belt that turns into some kind of ninja weapon. Amazingly, she's a free agent.

Then the cops show up with the slashed repo guy, and they haul everybody to jail. And the girls all end up in juvie. Maggie gets roughed up by the guards, and since Lace has taken a shine to her, the Debs riot and have a pretty awesome fight that ends in one guard getting tossed into a trashcan, and another one getting a plunger in the face.

Maggie gets out first, so Lace asks her to take a letter to her Dom. She does, and he reads it out loud to the Daggers. Everybody laughs. Later that night, Dom shows up at Maggie's place - she also lives in the projects - and makes violent 70's rape-love to her. And then he smacks her mom around, too. Her mom, by the way, was busy banging the super to pay for the rent. Hard times!

Lace and the gang eventually get out and go back to trashing the school. Lace has no idea, at this point, about the forced hanky panky between Dom and Maggie. The school principal, Mr. Weasel, drops in on Dom to let him know that the Daggers' rival gang, led by a dude named Crab, are transferring to their school, and that he'd rather not have a bloody turf war in his classrooms, if that's at all possible. By the way, no one involved is anywhere close to high school age.

Meanwhile, Patch is jealous of Maggie. Although it's never directly stated, she appears to have a girl-boner for Lace. So she tells her what's up about Maggie and Dom's illicit tryst. Lace doesn't believe her, but later on, at the gang's clubhouse, she sees Mag and Dom talking, and starts to wonder if maybe Patch is right.

Still, she likes the new kid, so Lace announces that Maggie's now in the gang. Patch insists that she has an initiation first, and it's a doozy she has to get the medallion from the rival gang's leader, Crabs. Crabs (Chase Newhart) is a political activist who dresses like a Bay City Roller and wears a plastic Nazi medallion. Always up for a challenge Maggie gussies up and visits Crabs at his headquarters. And she does, indeed, get the necklace, by biting his penis and then bursting through a wall. So she's in.

Things turn ugly when Crab and his goons shoot Dom's little brother in a drive-by and then kidnap his girlfriend for a gang-rape. In retaliation, the Daggers and the Debs decide to stage an ambush at the roller rink.

Before that, however, Lace tells Dom she's pregnant. That does not go well. He tells her to "get rid of it". She mulls over her options.

And then everybody heads to the roller rink. This was a couple years before roller boogie fever, so no disco jams, satin shorts, or rainbow suspenders, sadly. But the girls do start beating Crab's guys with chains, so that's pretty cool, and then everybody pulls out guns and shoots each other. And in the melee, Lace gets kicked in the belly, and Dom gets killed.

After the expected period of mourning and rehabilitation, Maggie takes over as leader of the gang after making Dom's second in command, Hook (Don Stark, AKA Bob from That 70's Show) say that he's a chicken. And then his girlfriend Bunny (pretty Janice Karman) further humiliates him with insults about his penis. So that was pretty emasculating.

Then, given their new girl-powered theme, Maggie changes the name of the gang to the Jezebels. Hungry for revenge for the antics at the roller rink, the newly christened femme-fighters hook up with an all-girl black power gang from Maggie's old neighborhood.

The girls all start training in how to shoot an M16 and shout revolutionary slogans. Lace, her power now severely diminished, shows up to make an awesome-but-disingenuous speech. And then, the war is on.

The next day the girls start to riot outside of Crab's headquarters Lace wears some kind of metal Princeess Leia buns. Then the black chicks show up with a tank, and everybody goes bananas. One guy has a sweater with elephants on it, and another guy wears a bowtie. It's all very crazy.

The girls end up slaughtering Crab and most of his gang, but Maggie figures out that Lace tipped him off at roller rink. Back at their clubhouse, Lace and Patch try to convince the other girls it was really Maggie - they even put a cigarette our in her belly button to maker confess - But the other girls don't buy it.

Obviously, given the title of the film, there's only one way to settle this - knife fight!

Part Shakespearian tragedy, part doomed romance, part women in prison potboiler, part blaxploitation flick, part teen melodrama, and part pitch-black comedy, Switchblade Sisters is an unabashed classic of throat-grabbing exploitation cinema. It's no wonder that Quentin Tarantino resurrected the film for a theatrical revival in the mid 1990's, since it's clear that he nabbed a good portion of his aesthetic from this film. From the frequently bizarre dialogue (Chicken ass?), to the loopy costumes (who wears denim cut-offs to a shoot-out?), to Robbie Lee's unforgettable performance, Switchblade Sisters is pure grindhouse gold, the hotpants girl-gang flick to end all hotpants girl-gang flicks. Don't miss it.

- Ken McIntyre