Zombie Strippers! Review
Written by: deadhorse13
If your sensibilities in horror films approach even a passing resemblance to my own, a title like Zombie Strippers! is impossible to ignore. Throw porn star Jenna Jameson and Elm Street’s Robert Englund into the seductive mixture of blood and boobs and we’re going to expect a real treat. Unfortunately the film misses its mark. It is fun in many ways, but its erratic tone and treatment suggest that the filmmakers were trying to accomplish more.
The farcical exposition offers an America under George Bush’s fourth term as president and our foreign altercations are innumerable. To compensate for the fatality rate of our soldiers abroad scientists have begun reanimating the deceased in the attempt to make to them super soldiers. However, the gene experimentation only holds stability in the female X chromosome and “once you get a man in there it all goes to shit”, as one female academic puts it.
In addition, extreme conservative interests have outlawed public nudity and strip joints are now considered illegal. A bitten marine escapes from a laboratory altercation with the undead and finds himself in the underground retreat of Rhinos, a tawdry establishment catering to the exiled erotic enthusiasts. Promptly consumed with bloodlust he violates the “no touching” golden rule by not only manhandling club favorite Kat (Jameson), but ripping her throat out in the process. Her expected transformation and newly inspired performances are met with even more acclaim than before, and club owner Ian (Englund, hamming it up to the best of his abilities) intends to exploit the dancer’s dire disposition all the way to the bank. There is the little problem of satiating her cadaverous cannibalistic appetite, but that is of little concern to Ian as he’s swimming in the greenbacks.
The mortal entertainers find themselves completely ignored by the clientele and soon consider joining Kat to get a piece of the action. The girls struggle with the choice to remain human or not, as they wax more philosophy than bikini area, ultimately convincing the majority to convert. Along the way the “ubersluts” leave an unhealthy number of carnivorous fans in their wake, setting the glittered stage for the inevitable battle between the living and the dead.
Zombie Strippers! is ample in both well choreographed boobs and blood. The titillating (too obvious?) script attempts to move things along at a brisk pace, but all the poor acting and dance routines become tedious. The overly conspicuous dialogue makes too many obvious allusions (“I can no longer be blind to the war, I can no longer be blind to the killing.”) and sophisticated references that essentially serve no purpose. Their wooden treatment eclipses any subtlety that could be effective in a flick of this nature and confuses any loftier intentions. At least the fervid gorehound in me was rewarded with a satisfactory climax. However, my intellectual side was left teased and broke in the champagne room.
6 of 10 pubic propelled ping pong balls.