Hollywood Chainsaw Hookers (1988) Review — Thalia’s Spook-n-Boobtacular Day 8
Directed by: Fred Olen Ray
Released: 1988
Runtime: Approximately 75 minutes
Welcome Back, My Beautiful Degenerates!
OH, MY FUCKING OLYMPUS!
MY BEAUTIFUL, BEAUTIFUL DEGENERATES!
I HAVE FOUND IT! I HAVE FOUND THE PROMISED LAND!
A MOVIE WITH BEAUTIFUL NAKED WOMEN, COMPLETELY RIDICULOUS DIALOGUE, ACTUAL FUCKING JOKES, AND A STRIP CLUB WHERE SOMEBODY HAD THE GOOD FUCKING SENSE TO TURN ON THE LIGHTS!
HAHAHAHAHAHA!
WELCOME BACK TO THALIA’S SPOOK-N-BOOBTACULAR!
It’s Day 8, my darlings, and tonight we’re watching Fred Olen Ray’s magnificent little monument to cinematic depravity, Hollywood Chainsaw Hookers (1988)!
Seventy-five minutes of sleazy detective noir, chainsaw-worshipping prostitutes, gloriously stupid comedy, gratuitous nudity, and two of my favorite scream queens doing what they do best.
LINNEA FUCKING QUIGLEY!
MICHELLE FUCKING BAUER!
THE GIRLS ARE BACK!
And after the emotional devastation I suffered at the hands of Stripped to Kill, I cannot adequately express how happy I am to report that this movie understands an essential principle of filmmaking.
IF YOU PUT BEAUTIFUL WOMEN ON A SCREEN, YOU SHOULD LET YOUR AUDIENCE FUCKING SEE THEM!
I know! Radical concept!
Apparently Hollywood hadn’t discovered it universally by 1988, but Fred Olen Ray had certainly figured it out!
Now, you may remember that yesterday’s film left me so furious about the lighting that I attempted to have the entire department arrested for obstruction of titties. Maddie insisted that wasn’t a real crime, Titan thought it sounded like a felony, and Theia threatened to move out if I didn’t stop screaming about red light bulbs.
Well, Theia, darling, I have wonderful news.
TONIGHT I’M SCREAMING ABOUT SOMETHING ELSE!
CHAINSAWS!
BOOBS!
AND A DETECTIVE WHO THINKS A WOMAN LICKING HIS NIPPLES IS CONCERNED ABOUT HIS PERSONAL HYGIENE!
HAHAHAHAHAHA!
Oh, this is going to be a magnificent evening.
Pour yourselves a drink, settle into something comfortable, and keep your extremities away from the machinery.
THALIA’S BACK IN BUSINESS!
Before we get started, the movie provides a helpful warning about the dangers of actual chainsaws.
Apparently you’re not supposed to imitate the things you’re about to see, particularly while naked or engaging in sexual activities.
WELL, THANK FUCK SOMEBODY TOLD ME!
There I was, about to cancel my weekend plans and purchase industrial cutting equipment!
Thalia delicately sets down her wine.
MADDIE! SCRATCH CHAINSAW SHOPPING OFF MY CALENDAR!
We open in a police interrogation room, where an attractive young woman named Lori is being questioned about a dead client. Our charming little suspect, played by Dawn Wildsmith, has a rather unusual explanation for the deceased gentleman’s condition.
And how does she demonstrate it?
SHE PULLS OUT A FUCKING CHAINSAW!
HAHAHAHA!
OH, I’M GOING TO LIKE THIS MOVIE!
We’re barely out of the opening minutes, and a woman has already decided that the most effective way to explain a murder investigation is with a live demonstration of the murder weapon.
THAT’S CUSTOMER SERVICE!
And then the title hits.
HOLLYWOOD CHAINSAW HOOKERS.
Beautiful. Glorious.
The sort of title you see on a battered VHS box in the darkest corner of a video store and immediately understand that you’re either about to have the greatest evening of your life or suffer irreversible psychological damage.
POSSIBLY BOTH!
Meet Jack Chandler, the World’s Sleaziest Private Eye
Our hero is Jack Chandler, played by Jay Richardson, a wisecracking private detective who narrates his adventures like somebody dropped Humphrey Bogart into a particularly filthy episode of a late-night cable television comedy.
Jack has been hired by a concerned mother to locate her runaway daughter, Samantha Kelso. Samantha is, what’s this, played by Linnea fucking Quigley.
LINNEA!
MY DARLING!
I KNEW YOU WOULDN’T ABANDON ME!
Now, Jack is not what you would call a shining example of American masculinity. He’s sleazy, sarcastic, frequently distracted, and possesses the sort of moral compass that apparently points directly toward the nearest available woman.
In other words, he’s exactly the sort of detective this movie needs.
And he narrates EVERYTHING.
The streets of Los Angeles. His miserable existence. The women he encounters. His general dissatisfaction with humanity.
It’s a deliberate parody of those old hard-boiled detective stories, except the mystery involves prostitutes who worship an Egyptian god and dismember their customers with power tools.
DASHIELL HAMMETT, EAT YOUR FUCKING HEART OUT!
What I love is that the movie genuinely understands the joke. Jack isn’t merely a detective who happens to be stuck in a silly horror movie. The film is constantly making fun of the entire private-eye formula, and Richardson’s wonderfully dry delivery makes even the dumbest lines work.
Especially the dumbest lines.
OH, SWEET OLYMPUS, ESPECIALLY THOSE!
At one point, after witnessing a woman stripping, our illustrious investigator delivers a remark about being knocked out with a pubic hair.
A PUBIC HAIR!
HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
I’M SORRY!
DID HE JUST SAY YOU COULD KNOCK HIM OUT WITH A FUCKING PUBIC HAIR?!
THIS MAN IS A POET!
A PHILOSOPHER!
A COMPLETE FUCKING MORON!
AND I LOVE HIM!
Forget the murder investigation. I want an entire television series consisting of this ridiculous bastard wandering around Los Angeles narrating his encounters with beautiful women.
Give him a trench coat, a questionable expense account, and absolutely no supervision.
FIVE SEASONS AND A MOVIE!
Michelle Bauer, Elvis Presley, and Proper Room Preparation
Before Jack gets too far into his investigation, we’re introduced to a young lady named Mercedes.
Played by the absolutely lovely Michelle Bauer.
MICHELLE!
OH, MY DARLING, YOU’VE RETURNED!
You may remember Michelle from a little cinematic masterpiece called Nightmare Sisters, where she and her friends Linnea Quigley and Brinke Stevens performed a bathtub sequence so magnificent that I was forced to invent six additional rating stars.
The Archives are still arguing about that.
MADDIE, THE ELEVEN STARS ARE STAYING!
Anyway!
Mercedes picks up a construction worker named Bo and brings him back to her motel room, where she proceeds to put on quite a performance.
And what a performance it is!
Michelle strips completely naked, treats us to her beautiful body, and dances around the room to some wonderfully ridiculous Elvis-inspired music.
OH, MY FUCKING OLYMPUS!
LOOK AT HER! LOOK AT THAT BEAUTIFUL WOMAN!
LOOK AT THOSE TITS! LOOK AT THAT SWEET ASS! LOOK AT THAT LOVELY BUSH!
AND LOOK AT THE FUCKING LIGHTING! I CAN SEE EVERYTHING!
HAHAHAHAHAHA!
FRED OLEN RAY, YOU MAGNIFICENT BASTARD! YOU FOUND THE LIGHT SWITCH!
After last night’s ordeal, I genuinely want to write the man a thank-you note.
But the nudity isn’t even the funniest part of this scene.
No, my darlings.
That honor belongs to Mercedes’ preparations for what she’s about to do to her unfortunate client.
First, she puts on a shower cap because she tends to get messy.
SENSIBLE, AND MY KIND OF FUCKING LADY!
Then she carefully covers her beloved Elvis painting with protective plastic.
VERY SENSIBLE!
Because, as she explains, she doesn’t want to damage it if she gets carried away.
GETS CARRIED AWAY?!
DARLING, WHAT EXACTLY ARE YOU PLANNING?!
A WATER BALLOON FIGHT?!
A FUCKING COOKING EXPERIMENT?!
Oh.
A chainsaw.
SHE’S PLANNING A FUCKING CHAINSAW MURDER!
HAHAHAHAHAHA!
And sure enough, out comes the chainsaw, and poor Bo discovers that Mercedes offers a rather unconventional customer experience.
Blood sprays. Body parts fly. Michelle gets thoroughly splattered in blood and its kinda fucking hot.
At one point, a severed hand winds up against her breast, and she casually brushes it aside like somebody has just handed her the wrong appetizer.
I FUCKING LOVE THIS WOMAN!
And here’s the important distinction, my beautiful degenerates: this scene is funny ON PURPOSE.
The shower cap is funny. The Elvis painting is funny. The absurdly excessive violence is funny. Michelle’s performance is funny.
The filmmakers aren’t accidentally stumbling into comedy.
THEY KNOW EXACTLY WHAT THE FUCK THEY’RE DOING!
And that makes all the difference.
The Investigation Continues, Mostly Through Other People’s Bedrooms
Jack’s investigation eventually takes him to the police station, where he manages to swipe a matchbook bearing the name and phone number of a mysterious woman called Mercedes.
Ah, yes.
A matchbook.
THE MOST RELIABLE FORM OF CRIMINAL EVIDENCE IN THE ENTIRE HISTORY OF PRIVATE DETECTIVE FICTION!
You could probably solve half the murders in Los Angeles by collecting enough fucking matchbooks.
Meanwhile, this film continues providing its own brand of investigative entertainment.
We encounter Sally, Jack’s girlfriend, played by Susie Wilson, who appears topless during a bedroom scene.
THANK YOU, SALLY!
THE LIGHTING DEPARTMENT APPRECIATES YOUR COOPERATION!
And then we meet Lisa, played by Esther Elise, who’s posing topless for a particularly questionable photo shoot involving a baseball bat.
A baseball bat!
ANOTHER BEAUTIFUL WOMAN!
ANOTHER WEAPON!
I’m beginning to recognize a pattern.
This particular gentleman has apparently requested material for a topless Little League calendar.
I BEG YOUR FUCKING PARDON?! WHO IS BUYING THAT?! WHAT KIND OF LITTLE LEAGUE ARE YOU PEOPLE RUNNING?!
And predictably, things don’t end terribly well for him.
At this point I’m starting to suspect that engaging the services of a Hollywood prostitute in this particular neighborhood is significantly more dangerous than the local tourism bureau might care to admit.
The women are beautiful.
The conversations are ridiculous.
And everybody seems to have immediate access to industrial machinery.
WELCOME TO LOS ANGELES!
Is This a Bar, or a Strip Club?
Now Jack follows his lead on Mercedes into a rather questionable establishment, and I immediately have a few questions.
First of all, what exactly are we looking at here?
Is this a bar? Is it a strip club? A nightclub? One of those charming little neighborhood establishments where you can order a beer, acquire a prostitute, and possibly be murdered with industrial equipment before last call?
WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS PLACE?!
And wait just a minute.
IS THAT A LITTLE BOY SITTING AT THE FUCKING COUNTER?!
HAHAHAHAHA!
I’M SORRY!
A CHILD?!
SITTING AT THE BAR?!
WELL, THAT’S NOT FUCKING APPROPRIATE FOR EITHER ESTABLISHMENT!
If it’s a bar, somebody needs to explain the concept of a drinking age.
And if it’s a strip club, somebody needs to explain A WHOLE FUCKING LOT MORE!
MADDIE!
ADD A CHILD-WELFARE VIOLATION TO THE LEDGER!
Oh, never mind. We’re investigating chainsaw murders. I suppose the management has bigger problems.
Anyway, Jack meets with Mercedes, the lovely lady whose name he discovered on that conveniently incriminating matchbook.
And while our sleazy detective attempts to conduct something resembling a professional investigation, I find myself becoming considerably more interested in the establishment’s entertainment.
Because somebody has just taken the stage.
OHHHH!
SO IT IS A STRIP CLUB!
OF FUCKING COURSE IT IS!
HAHAHAHA!
I SHOULD HAVE KNOWN!
And look at that!
LOOK!
THE FUCKING LIGHTS WORK IN THIS ESTABLISHMENT!
HALLELUJAH!
WE HAVE ACHIEVED ELECTRICITY!
After yesterday’s experience, I genuinely wasn’t sure I’d ever witness a properly illuminated strip performance again.
And now I’m watching a dancer under actual visible lighting! Imagine that!
A FILMMAKER WHO WANTS PEOPLE TO SEE WHAT HE PUTS IN FRONT OF THE CAMERA!
Thalia takes a pleased sip of wine.
Well, this is already a considerable improvement.
Let’s see what our lovely performer has to offer.
Wait.
Hang on.
WAIT A FUCKING MINUTE.
I KNOW THAT WOMAN.
I KNOW THOSE MOVES.
I KNOW THAT BEAUTIFUL FACE!
I KNOW THAT GLORIOUS BODY!
IS THAT—
OH!
MY!
FUCKING!
OLYMPUS!
LINNEA?!?!
LINNEA FUCKING QUIGLEY?!
AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!
MY GIRL!
MY BEAUTIFUL FUCKING GIRL!
SHE’S HERE!
HAHAHAHAHAHA!
OH, DARLING, COME HERE!
I WANT TO GIVE YOU A FUCKING HUG!
Thalia launches herself halfway out of her throne, scattering popcorn across the screening-room floor.
Of course it’s Linnea!
OF COURSE IT IS!
We’re eight days into this festival, and apparently Linnea Quigley has personally taken responsibility for ensuring I survive the experience!
First she gave us that unforgettable scene in Night of the Demons.
Then she joined Michelle and Brinke in Nightmare Sisters and helped create the Sacred Bathtub, an event so historically significant that I was forced to violate the established principles of mathematics.
And now?
NOW SHE’S STRIPPING!
RIGHT HERE!
IN FRONT OF ME!
OH, MY BEAUTIFUL DARLING!
WHAT HAVE I DONE TO DESERVE YOU?!
And then she starts taking her clothes off.
Oh. OH!
OH, FUCKING HELL!
LOOK AT HER!
LOOK AT THAT BODY!
THOSE CURVES!
THAT BEAUTIFUL FIGURE!
AND THOSE MAGNIFICENT FUCKING TWINS!
MY DARLINGS!
MY BEAUTIFUL, BEAUTIFUL TWINS!
HAHAHAHAHAHA!
I LOVE YOU, LINNEA! I FUCKING LOVE YOU!
And you know what else I love?
THE LIGHTING!
THE GLORIOUS FUCKING LIGHTING!
NO RED FOG!
NO FLASHING LIGHTS!
NO FUCKING PURPLE SPOTLIGHTS SWEEPING ACROSS THE ROOM EVERY TIME SOMEBODY TAKES HER TOP OFF!
JUST A BEAUTIFUL WOMAN, ON A STAGE, WITH ENOUGH FUCKING LIGHT TO SEE HER!
HAHAHAHAHAHA!
OH, SWEET OLYMPUS!
SOMEBODY FINALLY UNDERSTANDS!
DO YOU KNOW HOW WONDERFUL THIS IS?!
DO YOU KNOW WHAT I’VE BEEN THROUGH?!
Yesterday I watched beautiful women dance beneath so many red and blue lights that I started to wonder whether the strip club had been converted into an emergency vehicle testing facility!
Every time a woman took off her clothes, somebody apparently thought it would be a wonderful idea to fill the fucking room with fog and turn all the lights red!
And tonight?
TONIGHT WE HAVE LINNEA FUCKING QUIGLEY!
NAKED ON A STAGE!
WITH HER BEAUTIFUL TWINS ON FULL DISPLAY!
AND NOT A SINGLE FUCKING LIGHTING TECHNICIAN TRYING TO HIDE THEM FROM ME!
THIS IS FUCKING HEAVEN!
Thalia stands in front of the television, raising her wine glass toward the ceiling.
FRED OLEN RAY!
YOU BEAUTIFUL, BEAUTIFUL BASTARD!
THANK YOU!
THANK YOU FOR HAVING THE GOOD FUCKING SENSE TO TURN SOME LIGHTS ON WHEN SUCH MAGNIFICENT TWINS ARE ON DISPLAY!
I WANT TO SHAKE YOUR HAND!
I WANT TO BUY YOU A DRINK!
I WANT TO SEND YOU A FUCKING FRUIT BASKET!
AND SOMEBODY GET KATT SHEA ON THE TELEPHONE!
NO, SERIOUSLY!
GET HER ON THE FUCKING PHONE!
KATT!
DARLING!
ARE YOU WATCHING THIS?!
A STRIP CLUB!
A BEAUTIFUL NAKED WOMAN!
AND WE CAN SEE HER!
WHAT AN AMAZING FUCKING CONCEPT!
NO RED FOG!
NO DISCO LIGHTS TRYING TO GIVE ME A SEIZURE!
NO BEAUTIFUL BREASTS DISAPPEARING INTO A FUCKING CLOUD OF COLORED SMOKE!
JUST LINNEA QUIGLEY AND HER GLORIOUS FUCKING BODY!
ISN’T IT WONDERFUL?!
HAHAHAHAHAHA!
MADDIE!
I WANT AN OFFICIAL COMMENDATION PREPARED!
MADDIE: “For Linnea Quigley?”
FOR LINNEA!
FOR FRED OLEN RAY!
FOR THE ENTIRE FUCKING LIGHTING DEPARTMENT!
MADDIE: “And the charges against the Stripped to Kill crew?”
THOSE REMAIN ACTIVE!
OBVIOUSLY!
Thalia settles back into her throne, grinning like a woman who has just witnessed the greatest technological breakthrough since the invention of the wheel.
Oh, my darlings.
That was beautiful.
That was absolutely fucking beautiful.
And I don’t just mean Linnea.
ALTHOUGH I MOSTLY MEAN LINNEA!
HAHAHAHAHAHA!
The Detective Gets Drugged — And Things Get Even Stranger
Unfortunately for Jack Chandler, his meeting with Mercedes isn’t quite the romantic or investigative opportunity he might have imagined.
Because Mercedes has slipped something into his drink.
OH, JACK. DARLING.
YOU’RE A PRIVATE DETECTIVE.
YOU’RE INVESTIGATING A STRING OF CHAINSAW MURDERS.
AND YOU’VE JUST ACCEPTED A DRINK FROM ONE OF THE WOMEN CONNECTED TO THE CASE?!
WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU EXPECT?!
A LOYALTY CARD?!
A COMPLIMENTARY APPETIZER?!
Our fearless investigator passes out, and the next thing he knows, he’s waking up tied to a bed.
Well.
THAT’S AN UNFORTUNATE DEVELOPMENT!
Although considering the sorts of women we’ve encountered in this movie so far, I suppose there are worse places to find oneself.
Except for the chainsaws.
THE CHAINSAWS ARE A BIT OF A CONCERN!
Another attractive woman, Ilsa, played by Tricia Burns, appears and begins undressing.
OH, HELLO, DARLING!
ANOTHER LOVELY LADY!
ANOTHER GENEROUS DISPLAY OF BEAUTY!
THIS CULT REALLY DOES HAVE AN EXCELLENT RECRUITMENT DEPARTMENT! SOMEONE GET ME A FUCKING BROCHURE!
And soon enough, Mercedes and Samantha are involved in the proceedings as well.
Jack is tied up, surrounded by dangerous women, and increasingly aware that his evening might end with him being divided into several inconveniently shaped pieces. Still a lucky fucking bastard.
This would probably be a good time to panic.
But Jack?
JACK HAS OTHER PRIORITIES!
THE NIPPLE INCIDENT!
OH, MY DARLINGS.
OH, MY BEAUTIFUL DEGENERATES.
WE HAVE REACHED ONE OF THE GREATEST LINES IN THE ENTIRE FUCKING MOVIE!
Our unfortunate detective is restrained on a bed, having been drugged and captured by a collection of murderous chainsaw-worshipping women.
And then one of the ladies begins licking his nipples.
NOW, LET’S CONSIDER THE SITUATION!
Jack has been abducted.
He’s tied to a fucking bed.
He’s at the mercy of women who have already demonstrated a rather alarming enthusiasm for industrial cutting equipment.
You would think his immediate concern might be escaping with his limbs still attached.
BUT NO!
Because when this woman starts licking his nipples, Jack informs her that she doesn’t have to do that.
Why?
WHY?!
BECAUSE HE TOOK A FUCKING BATH YESTERDAY!
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
OH, MY FUCKING OLYMPUS!
I CAN’T!
I FUCKING CAN’T!
“YOU DON’T HAVE TO DO THAT. I TOOK A BATH YESTERDAY!”
HAHAHAHAHAHA!
JACK!
MY DARLING!
SHE’S LICKING YOUR FUCKING NIPPLES!
SHE ISN’T TRYING TO CLEAN THE FUCKING BATHTUB!
WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?!
OH, I LOVE THIS MAN!
I ABSOLUTELY FUCKING LOVE HIM!
The poor bastard is facing potential ritual sacrifice, and he’s apparently worried that somebody might think his personal hygiene is inadequate!
THAT’S YOUR PRIORITY?!
NOT THE CHAINSAWS?!
NOT THE KIDNAPPING?!
NOT THE FACT THAT YOU’RE TIED TO A FUCKING BED?!
YOUR BATHING SCHEDULE?!
HAHAHAHAHAHA!
And then, of course, there’s that one very dangerous word.
Bath.
OH, DON’T YOU FUCKING DARE!
DON’T YOU GET ME STARTED!
I HAVE ONLY JUST RECOVERED FROM THE SACRED BATHTUB OF NIGHTMARE SISTERS!
Thalia hears footsteps outside the screening-room door.
THEIA!
I AM NOT TALKING ABOUT THE BATHTUB AGAIN!
The footsteps retreat.
GOOD!
Because this is about nipples!
AND PERSONAL HYGIENE!
AND A MAN WHO HAS COMPLETELY MISUNDERSTOOD THE SITUATION!
Although, now that I think about it, I wonder if Linnea and Michelle remember the bathtub—
NO!
FOCUS, THALIA!
FOCUS!
WE STILL HAVE A FUCKING CHAINSAW CULT TO DEAL WITH!
A Secret Cult With Excellent Customer Service
Jack eventually discovers that these lovely ladies belong to a bizarre chainsaw-worshipping cult.
The group follows an ancient Egyptian deity and apparently considers chainsaw dismemberment a perfectly reasonable form of religious devotion.
Of course!
WHY THE FUCK NOT?!
There are certainly stranger things people do on weekends.
Their mysterious leader, known as the Master or Stranger, is played by Gunnar Hansen.
GUNNAR HANSEN!
LEATHERFACE HIMSELF!
You mean to tell me that we have the original Leatherface presiding over a cult of chainsaw-wielding prostitutes?!
WHO THE FUCK CAST THIS MOVIE?!
GIVE THEM AN AWARD!
Now, Gunnar doesn’t exactly deliver the most energetic performance of his career. He’s mostly there to look menacing, explain the cult’s wonderfully stupid beliefs, and lend the production a little horror-movie credibility.
But his very presence is a joke worth appreciating.
The original Leatherface!
RUNNING A CHAINSAW CULT!
WITH NAKED WOMEN!
THIS IS THE SORT OF CROSSOVER EVENT I CAN GET BEHIND!
Jack, naturally, handles his introduction to the cult with the dignity and sophistication we’ve come to expect from him.
Which is to say, he makes another ridiculous joke.
“WHAT DO YOU DO, PRAY TO BLACK AND DECKER?!”
HAHAHAHAHAHA!
OH, JACK!
YOU BEAUTIFUL STUPID BASTARD!
And when the girls threaten him with a chainsaw, the terrifying instrument of death promptly runs out of gas.
RUNS!
OUT!
OF!
GAS!
HAHAHAHAHAHA!
I’M SORRY!
YOU’RE OPERATING AN ENTIRE RELIGIOUS CULT DEDICATED TO CHAINSAW SACRIFICE, AND NOBODY CHECKED THE FUCKING FUEL?!
WHAT’S NEXT?!
THE GRAND HIGH PRIEST FORGOT TO CHARGE HIS PHONE?!
DO YOU PEOPLE HAVE A MAINTENANCE DEPARTMENT?!
MADDIE! GET ME THE CULT’S OPERATING BUDGET!
I WANT TO KNOW HOW MUCH THEY SPEND ON GASOLINE!
But somehow, even that isn’t the stupidest part of this cult’s operation.
Oh, no.
Because when Jack and Samantha are searching for the cult’s headquarters, they encounter a sign.
A HELPFUL LITTLE SIGN.
AND WHAT DOES IT SAY?!
“KEEP GOING. YOU’RE ALMOST THERE.”
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
OH, MY FUCKING OLYMPUS!
THE SECRET CHAINSAW CULT HAS DIRECTIONAL SIGNAGE!
IT HAS FUCKING WAYFINDING!
They’re conducting ritual human sacrifices in the name of an ancient Egyptian god, but apparently they’re also concerned about visitors getting lost!
WHAT’S NEXT?!
A WELCOME CENTER?!
COMPLIMENTARY COFFEE?!
A LITTLE GIFT SHOP SELLING COMMEMORATIVE CHAINSAW KEYCHAINS?!
“WELCOME TO THE CULT OF ANUBIS! PLEASE ENJOY YOUR STAY! HUMAN SACRIFICES BEGIN PROMPTLY AT EIGHT!”
HAHAHAHA!
I LOVE THIS MOVIE!
I ABSOLUTELY FUCKING LOVE IT!
Samantha Has a Few Secrets of Her Own
Now, our dear Samantha isn’t quite the helpless runaway Jack was originally hired to find.
Linnea’s character has been investigating the cult herself, hoping to avenge the death of a friend.
Well!
LOOK AT YOU, DARLING!
WE HAVE A WOMAN WITH A MISSION!
She’s not merely wandering around Hollywood getting herself into trouble. She’s infiltrated an entire organization of murderous chainsaw enthusiasts and intends to bring them down from within.
WITH EXTREME PREJUDICE!
That’s my girl!
Meanwhile, Jack is still trying to process the fact that he’s stumbled into a murderous religious organization populated almost entirely by attractive women.
He even wonders aloud whether the whole affair represents religious freedom having gone too far.
HAHAHAHA!
YOU THINK, JACK?!
I’M GENERALLY A SUPPORTER OF PEOPLE FOLLOWING THEIR OWN CONSCIENCES, BUT I THINK WE CAN ALL AGREE THAT DISMEMBERING PEOPLE WITH CHAINSAWS IS TAKING THE FUCKING CONCEPT A BIT FAR!
And that is why the noir narration works so well.
Instead of becoming increasingly frightened by the insane circumstances surrounding him, Jack keeps responding like a world-weary private detective who has simply encountered yet another administrative inconvenience.
Dead bodies?
Typical.
Dangerous women?
Expected.
Ancient Egyptian chainsaw cult?
WELL, THAT’S LOS ANGELES FOR YOU!
I genuinely admire how consistently the film commits to that particular joke.
THE VIRGIN DANCE OF THE DOUBLE CHAINSAWS!
MY DARLINGS.
MY BEAUTIFUL DEGENERATES.
PLEASE SIT DOWN.
IF YOU’RE ALREADY SITTING, FASTEN YOUR FUCKING SEATBELTS.
BECAUSE WE HAVE REACHED THE MOMENT THIS MOVIE WAS BUILDING TOWARD!
THE VIRGIN!
DANCE!
OF THE DOUBLE!
FUCKING!
CHAINSAWS!
HAHAHAHAHAHA!
Linnea Quigley emerges from an Egyptian-style sarcophagus wearing elaborate snake-like body paint, a tiny thong, and very little else.
OH, LINNEA!
MY DARLING!
YOU BEAUTIFUL, BEAUTIFUL WOMAN!
And what’s she carrying?
TWO CHAINSAWS!
NOT ONE!
TWO!
BECAUSE APPARENTLY ONE FUCKING CHAINSAW WOULD HAVE BEEN TOO RESTRAINED!
She proceeds to perform a wonderfully ridiculous ceremonial dance, wielding these miniature instruments of destruction while displaying precisely why she became one of the most beloved scream queens of the entire decade.
I MEAN, LOOK AT THIS!
WE HAVE AN ANCIENT EGYPTIAN RITUAL!
A BEAUTIFUL NEARLY NAKED WOMAN!
TWO ROARING CHAINSAWS!
AND ABSOLUTELY NO FUCKING SHAME!
THIS IS ART!
THIS IS CULTURE!
THIS IS WHY THE MOVING PICTURE WAS INVENTED!
MADDIE! PUT THE MUSEUM ON NOTICE!
WE NEED AN ENTIRE FUCKING EXHIBITION!
Now, let’s establish something before anybody from the Archives comes running in with a calculator.
Is this better than the Sacred Bathtub?
NO!
THE SACRED BATHTUB REMAINS UNTOUCHED!
I’M NOT SAYING OTHERWISE!
Please stop looking at me like that, Theia!
But is this one of the most wonderfully ridiculous sequences we’ve encountered during the entire festival?
OH, YOU BET YOUR BEAUTIFUL ASS IT IS!
And best of all, the movie doesn’t immediately collapse after delivering its big spectacle.
Because there’s still another glorious moment awaiting us.
A MOMENT THAT WILL LIVE IN THE HALLS FOREVER!
LINNEA VS. MICHELLE: THE CHAINSAW CHAMPIONSHIP!
OH!
OH!
OH!
MY FUCKING OLYMPUS!
IT’S HAPPENING!
IT’S ACTUALLY FUCKING HAPPENING!
LINNEA QUIGLEY!
VERSUS!
MICHELLE BAUER!
IN A CHAINSAW FUCKING DUEL!
AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!
HAHAHAHAHAHA!
MY BEAUTIFUL DEGENERATES!
THE WOMEN WHO HELPED GIVE US THE SACRED BATHTUB HAVE NOW PICKED UP CHAINSAWS AND DECLARED WAR ON EACH OTHER!
WHAT MORE DO YOU FUCKING WANT FROM CINEMA?!
Forget your expensive summer blockbusters! Forget the endless superhero crossovers!
Forget whatever ridiculous amounts of money Hollywood is currently spending to make people in costumes punch each other!
I HAVE TWO BEAUTIFUL SCREAM QUEENS FIGHTING WITH FUCKING CHAINSAWS!
AND I’M HAVING THE TIME OF MY LIFE!
Michelle and Linnea face off, weapons roaring, until Samantha gets the better of Mercedes.
And then—
OH, SHIT!
SHE GOT HER!
SHE FUCKING GOT HER!
Blood erupts all over Linnea!
SHE’S COVERED!
SHE’S ABSOLUTELY FUCKING COVERED! AND HOTTER THAN EVER! WHY THE FUCK IS THIS SO HOT?
HAHAHAHAHAHA!
THIS!
IS!
FUCKING!
CINEMA!
Thalia leaps out of her throne, sending popcorn flying across the screening room.
MADDIE!
GET THE FUCKING LEDGER!
THEIA!
GET MY GOOD WINE!
TITAN!
GET THE FUCKING CHAMPIONSHIP BELT!
WE HAVE A WINNER!
And do you know what makes this even better?
The movie’s sheer commitment to its own outrageous premise.
Nobody is acting embarrassed to be here. Nobody seems to be apologizing for the stupidity of what they’re doing. This is a film about chainsaw-worshipping prostitutes, and by the end, it delivers a full-blown chainsaw showdown between two beloved scream queens.
EXACTLY AS IT FUCKING SHOULD!
The blood is ridiculous.
The violence is ridiculous.
The whole movie is ridiculous.
AND IT’S FUCKING WONDERFUL!
One Final Joke From Jack Chandler
Eventually the madness settles, our heroes make their escape, and Jack returns to his favorite pastime.
Narrating his own life like the world’s horniest private detective.
After all the chainsaw murders, ancient cult rituals, beautiful women, and general insanity, he manages to bring his final thoughts back around to Samantha’s physical attributes.
OF COURSE HE DOES!
Because Jack Chandler may have survived a murderous religious organization, but he’s certainly not going to emerge from the experience as a more enlightened gentleman.
HAHAHAHA!
NEVER CHANGE, JACK!
Actually, darling, perhaps change a little.
Maybe develop one additional personality trait.
BUT KEEP THE FUCKING NARRATION!
And just when you think the movie has finished taking the piss out of itself, it teases a sequel.
Student Chainsaw Nurses.
HAHAHAHAHAHA!
STUDENT CHAINSAW NURSES?!
OH, YOU BASTARDS!
YOU CAN’T TEASE ME WITH THAT AND THEN NOT MAKE IT!
I WANT THE MOVIE!
I WANT THE NURSES!
I WANT THE CHAINSAWS!
I WANT JACK CHANDLER INVESTIGATING A MYSTERIOUS HOSPITAL WHERE EVERYBODY’S MALPRACTICE INSURANCE HAS BEEN FUCKING CANCELED!
Thalia slumps back into her chair, exhausted from laughing.
Oh, my beautiful degenerates.
What a wonderful evening.
Thalia’s Final Thoughts: This Is How You Make a Fucking B-Movie!
You know what, my darlings? I genuinely enjoyed the hell out of that.
Not because it was an expensive production. Not because it had spectacular special effects or sophisticated storytelling. And certainly not because it was frightening.
Hollywood Chainsaw Hookers is about as frightening as discovering somebody has replaced your chainsaw’s gasoline with orange juice.
It’s a silly, cheap, unapologetically sleazy little horror comedy, and it knows precisely what it is.
That’s the magic.
Fred Olen Ray doesn’t spend seventy-five minutes pretending he’s making an important cinematic statement. He’s making a movie about a wisecracking detective and a cult of chainsaw-worshipping prostitutes, and he seems determined to have as much fun with that premise as humanly possible.
AND SO DID I!
The humor works because it’s deliberately constructed. Jack’s dry narration provides a steady stream of noir parody, while the visual gags and absurd situations keep building on one another.
Michelle protecting her Elvis painting before a chainsaw murder is funny.
A chainsaw running out of gas at the worst possible moment is funny.
A secret cult providing convenient directional signs is fucking hilarious.
And Jack responding to a woman licking his nipples by reassuring her that he bathed yesterday?
THAT’S THE SORT OF BEAUTIFULLY STUPID JOKE I WANT FRAMED ON MY WALL!
But there’s something else here that deserves appreciation.
The performers actually seem to understand the material.
Jay Richardson embraces Jack’s sleazy, exhausted detective routine. Michelle Bauer throws herself into her wonderfully absurd role with infectious enthusiasm. Linnea Quigley gives us another unforgettable performance, capped off by that ridiculous ceremonial dance and the glorious chainsaw showdown.
And while Gunnar Hansen doesn’t have nearly as much fun with the material as I’d hoped, seeing the original Leatherface presiding over an Egyptian chainsaw cult is amusing all by itself.
Then there’s the film’s delightful abundance of nudity.
OH, THE NUDITY!
Michelle Bauer!
Linnea Quigley!
Susie Wilson!
Esther Elise!
BEAUTIFUL WOMEN EVERYWHERE!
And unlike yesterday’s miserable lighting catastrophe, I didn’t have to spend the entire movie squinting at the television and wondering whether the performers were actually fucking visible!
The women are attractive, the scenes are playful, and the film never acts remotely ashamed of its exploitation roots.
GOOD!
IT SHOULDN’T!
That’s what we came here for!
And this brings me to a distinction I’ve been thinking about throughout Spook-n-Boobtacular.
Some bad movies are entertaining because they’re bad. Their terrible acting, absurd dialogue, cheap effects, and questionable decisions become the entertainment.
Other movies are intentionally ridiculous, but they’re genuinely GOOD at being ridiculous.
Hollywood Chainsaw Hookers belongs to the second category.
It’s not simply some incompetent production that accidentally stumbled into a few laughs. It’s a comedy with a deliberately outrageous premise, performers who understand the joke, and enough wonderfully stupid dialogue to keep me laughing from beginning to end.
Does it have the single greatest exploitation scene of the festival?
No.
The Sacred Bathtub still holds that crown.
THE BATHTUB IS SACRED!
THE BATHTUB IS ETERNAL!
THE BATHTUB—
There’s an unmistakable knock on the screening-room door.
THEIA! FOR THE LOVE OF OLYMPUS, I’M ALMOST FUCKING FINISHED!
The knocking stops.
THANK YOU!
But what Hollywood Chainsaw Hookers does have is something equally valuable.
A consistently entertaining movie.
Not just a favorite scene.
Not just a glorious collection of beautiful women.
An actual, honest-to-Olympus, entertaining little comedy that delivers precisely the sort of shameless fun its magnificent title promises.
And for that, my darlings, I salute it!
The Official Ratings
HORROR: ★☆☆☆☆ — 1/5
Let’s be clear about something. This movie isn’t scary.AT ALL!
We’ve got chainsaws, murders, dismemberments, an ancient religious cult, and Gunnar Hansen himself, but the whole bloody affair is played for laughs.
The body parts are ridiculous. The violence is cartoonish. The villains are about as intimidating as a malfunctioning lawnmower.
And that’s perfectly fine! A movie doesn’t have to frighten me to entertain me. It simply has to know what the fuck it’s doing. And this one absolutely does.
CHEESE: ★★★★★ — 5/5
OH, MY BEAUTIFUL DEGENERATES! FIVE! FUCKING! STARS!
This is how you do cinematic cheese! It’s deliberate, it’s enthusiastic, it’s wonderfully shameless, and best of all, it’s genuinely FUNNY!
The noir narration! The Elvis painting! The nipple-bathing misunderstanding! The chainsaw running out of gas! THE FUCKING DIRECTIONAL SIGN!
And, of course, the magnificent chainsaw championship between Linnea and Michelle! The movie throws joke after joke at the screen, and an astonishing number of them land. I laughed throughout the fucking thing!
And I’m not awarding these stars out of pity. THE MOVIE EARNED THEM!
BOOBS: ★★★★★ — 5/5
FIVE STARS! FIVE BEAUTIFUL FUCKING STARS!
Michelle Bauer’s magnificent Elvis-themed performance!
Linnea Quigley’s unforgettable strip-club appearance and body-painted chainsaw ritual!
Additional lovely appearances from Susie Wilson and Esther Elise!
TITS!
ASS!
MICHELLE’S LOVELY BUSH!
AND, MY BEAUTIFUL DEGENERATES, THE LIGHTS ARE FUCKING ON! HAHAHAHAHAHA!
No squinting! No mysterious shadows! No beautiful performers disappearing into a radioactive ocean of fucking red light!
Fred Olen Ray, you have restored my faith in the electrical industry! I hereby dismiss all prospective charges of obstruction of titties against this particular production!
THE CHARGES AGAINST YESTERDAY’S LIGHTING DEPARTMENT REMAIN ACTIVE!
MADDIE! MAKE SURE THAT’S IN THE RECORD!
FIVE FUCKING STARS!
THAT’S RIGHT!
ANOTHER ORGASMIC DECREE!
Hollywood Chainsaw Hookers delivers everything I want from a gloriously sleazy B-movie comedy.
Beautiful women, hilarious dialogue, outrageous violence, enthusiastic performances, and the sort of spectacularly stupid filmmaking that reminds me why I love these ridiculous little movies in the first place.
It’s not better than the Sacred Bathtub of Nightmare Sisters.
LET’S NOT GET CARRIED AWAY!
But as a complete film?
This might be one of the most purely entertaining things we’ve watched during the entire festival.
And the fact that it was reportedly filmed in just five and a half days makes the whole achievement even more delightful.
FIVE AND A HALF FUCKING DAYS!
AND THEY HAD TIME TO FIND THE LIGHT SWITCH!
HAHAHAHAHAHA!
Would I watch it again?
ABSOLUTELY!
Would I recommend it to somebody who enjoys outrageous exploitation comedies?
WITHOUT HESITATION!
Would I recommend it to somebody looking for a genuinely frightening horror film?
DARLING, THEY’RE GOING TO THINK I’VE LOST MY FUCKING MIND!
And would I ever join a secret cult of chainsaw-worshipping prostitutes?
Well, that depends.
DO THEY HAVE BENEFITS?!
AND IS MICHELLE BAUER STILL ACCEPTING APPLICATIONS?!
There’s another knock at the door.
OH, FOR FUCK’S SAKE!
WHAT NOW?!
MADDIE: “Thalia, I’ve brought the official rating ledger.”
WONDERFUL!
FIVE STARS!
WRITE IT DOWN!
MADDIE: “Just five?”
Thalia narrows her eyes.
DON’T FUCKING START WITH ME!
MADDIE: “I’m merely confirming. After the Nightmare Sisters incident, the Archives revised its procedures.”
FIVE STARS, MADDIE!
A PERFECTLY LEGAL, MATHEMATICALLY ACCEPTABLE FIVE!
MADDIE: “How reassuring.”
AND PUT A NOTE IN THE MARGINS!
MADDIE: “What note?”
THALIA: “LINNEA AND MICHELLE ARE CARRYING THIS ENTIRE FUCKING FESTIVAL!”
Theia appears behind Maddie, looking exhausted.
THEIA: “Please tell me we’re finished.”
ALMOST, DARLING!
I HAVE ONE FINAL ANNOUNCEMENT!
THEIA: “Of course you do.”
Thalia raises her wine glass toward the ceiling.
TO FRED OLEN RAY!
TO JAY RICHARDSON!
TO BEAUTIFUL MICHELLE BAUER AND HER BEAUTIFUL FUCKING BUSH!
TO THE MAGNIFICENT LINNEA QUIGLEY AND HER WONDERFUL FUCKING TWINS!
TO CHEAP EXPLOITATION CINEMA!
TO THE MIRACLE OF FUNCTIONING ELECTRICITY!
AND TO THE GREATEST FUCKING CHAINSAW DUEL IN SPOOK-N-BOOBTACULAR HISTORY!
FIVE STARS! ORGASMIC!
Theia closes her eyes.
THEIA: “I need a vacation.”
TITAN, FROM THE HALLWAY: “There’s always the cult. They have directions.”
THEIA: “I HATE ALL OF YOU!”
HAHAHAHAHAHA!
GOODNIGHT, MY BEAUTIFUL DEGENERATES!
AND REMEMBER!
IF THE CULT HAS A SIGN THAT SAYS YOU’RE ALMOST THERE, YOU’RE PROBABLY ABOUT TO HAVE A FUCKING TERRIBLE DAY!
