The late 1980s and early 1990s. Fred Olen Ray. Jim Wynorski. Scream Queens. The Late Show (the magazine, not the chat show). If you understand the meaning behind these arcane words and phrases, then we understand one another. For the uninitiated: tits.
When I was thirteen, I owned a magazine that had a full-page photograph of Brinke Stevens in vampire fangs, a thong and a cape and nothing else, and I almost destroyed my organs of generation before they had fully developed. There's an admission. We're all friends here, right? I know what you're thinking: this isn't the most progressive of reviews that he could be doing in this current time of the #MeToo movement; for a progressive guy with feminist views he can sound objectifying at times... these are true. But how else does one approach a flick like this? I could deconstruct it and give it a slaughtering quite easily. But where's the fun in that? And in these trying times of trial, fun distractions are important. Plus, nostalgia for one's early teens can be a powerful thing.
So here we have Scream Queens Hot Tub Party - or, as it was released on video on the UK, Hollywood Scream Queens Hot Tub Party (perhaps they didn't quite trust us to know precisely what a "scream queen" was) - an attempt by arch purveyors of horror smut Olen Ray and Wynorski (operating here under the aliases of 'Bill Carson' and 'Arch Stanton') to beat Roger Corman's Little Shop of Horrors record of making a movie in two days by gathering five top tier scream queens together at Fred's house and shooting some brief titillating linking material for what is essentially a clip show. A peep show clip show.
Actresses Brinke Stevens, Michelle Bauer, Monique Gabrielle, Kelli Maroney and Roxanne Kernohan are all mysteriously summoned to the home of one 'Byron Orlock' (a great gag for anyone who gets the reference to Peter Bogdanovitch's Targets) on the pretext of making their own individual presentations on acting in horror movies - something these gals know a lot about. Finding the manse strangely empty, they decide to stay on nonetheless and use a Ouija board to find out the lowdown on what's going down, which leads to this piece of classic comedy dialogue:
MICHELLE: "Okay, the first thing we do is you put a finger on my diviner."
ROXANNE: "Hey, I don't do lesbian scenes!"
MICHELLE: "No, silly - this is the diviner! We all put a finger on it."
BRINKE: "And soon we'll be in contact with that dark, festering daemon who roams the netherworld in search of obscene and perverse pleasures!"
ROXANNE: "You want to call my agent?"
Some of it is quite witty and meta, mind, such as when Brinke says that what they're doing is in accordance with page 17 of the script (which she dutifully consults) "and it burns up a minute of screen time". The ladies then change into their regulation bikinis and enter the houses' hot tub - the ideal place to begin their seminar and present their fateful findings (Neil Breen reference! Back away!) to each other.
Brinke begins with a masterclass on shower acting, which segues into some quite long sequences of archive footage from her screen debut in 1982's Slumber Party Massacre and Sorority House Massacre II ("Here comes the Hockstetter / Turn it up! / He's a lyrical gangster / Turn it up!"), then treats us to a demonstration of the fine art of how to 'shower act' in a horror film - the trick being to accentuate soaping the breasts and buttocks whilst remaining oblivious to anything going on around oneself, such as a knife-wielding murderer approaching. After this, Monique Gabrielle presents some clips from Evil Toons and Transylvania Twist before giving us a rendition of the hypnotic dance of the vampiress, which involves a slow striptease in which she peels off a leather corset. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't giving this bit my full attention.
Next, Kelli Maroney shows a classic gun-wielding scene of hers from Night of the Comet and instructs us on the fact that before one can pump a shotgun, one must first pump iron. This of course means her removing her clothes, oiling up and doing some weightlifting, ending with a wank-baiting wink to the camera and a knowing "Ready to pump boys?". Then Michelle Bauer shows us her famous scene from Hollywood Chainsaw Hookers - a film I covered here - (a scene which shows much more than the original slashed by the BBFC UK VHS release did) and then demonstrates her skills using a throbbing tool (no, not that kind: this ain't one of her Pia Snow films. Though I will get round to Nightdreams and Cafe Flesh at some point) and the importance of not wearing clothes for safety purposes when operating heavy machinery.
As the ingenue newcomer to the scene, Roxanne Kernohan has only a great scene of hers from Critters II to offer, but the follow up scene of her being molested by a monster whilst doing her laundry troubles the trousers as well as the mind.
I mean, this is a film that sports credits such as 'Bikini Wrangler: Hans Fhule', 'Lighting: Steven Wonder' and 'Dialogue: Joe D'Amato'. We can't ask for too much.
The truly sad thing about this film (apart from my nostalgic enjoyment in watching it) is the fact that, after being presented as the New Scream Queen this is the last thing that the lovely Ms Kernohan did, being killed shortly afterwards in a car crash at the tragically young age of 32. Which is a bittersweet note to end a review of a bit of fluff on.
Like a tearful, sexy wank. Like Naomi Watts in Mulholland Drive.
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