Wasn't I just growling the praises of this sub-subgenre in my rundown of last year's Deathgasm? I love "heavy metal horror," especially if it comes from the 80's. In the case of Dead Girls, it comes from 1990. The fashion is the same, but instead of demonic soothsaying (for obvious reasons, these flicks have a thing for the black arts), the characters have to deal with a masked stalker who may or may not be...well, anyone. That's right, lovelies; it's a slasher! Slashers are fun, right? Well, this one isn't so much fun! I'm still shouting, and I don't know why! Dead Girls does have a pro or two in its corner. Stealing a page from the giallo notebook, the whodunit angle makes the entire cast a veritable turnstile of suspects. I thought I had the killer pegged in the first act, but I was way off-base.
So the ending is unpredictable. I'll give the movie that much, but simply reaching the ending was a trying drudgery. The 105-minute running time didn't help. 105! I swear to Percunas, Dead Girls wanted to torture me. It starts out on the right cloven hoof. We see a band (The Dead Girls, natch) bitching back and forth with their pomaded greaseball of a manager. Apparently, a group of teenagers formed a suicide pact because of their lyrics and all but one troubled youth succeeded in perishing. Who survived? Our lead singer's little sister. Gina - the lead singer, stage name Bertha Beirut - travels back home with her bandmates in tow. Suffice to say, they receive a cold welcome. The idea is to whisk Brooke - the little sister - away to their family cabin for a heapin' helpin' of relaxation.
Shit, this synopsis is a drone. That's the basic set-up. As mistrust would betoken, there are quite a few underhanded scoundrels afoot, which means there are also quite a few potential victims. Unfortunately, the death sequences are square. The goriest kill happens to befall the coolest character, and that just doesn't feel right. The others are stabbed, drowned or shot. Booooring. Nudity should be a no-brainer, but all we are offered is a long-distance view of sideboob. You can barely make out the nipple! The fuck? I scoff at thee! Man, Dead Girls is in urgent need of exploitation. The storyline isn't strong enough to support its own weight. And unlike Black Roses and Rock 'n' Roll Nightmare, we aren't treated to cheesertaining live performances. Even Monster Dog had a music video, bro!
I laughed in a number of spots. Take the introduction of Elmo the Retard, for instance. I'm a horrible person, so I thought it was funny when the strapping bodyguard nearly beat the plasma out of him. It's okay. I'm retarded, too. What's with the incest couple? No shit, one of the "dead girls" bangs her brother (the drummer). She doesn't try to hide it, but nobody seems to care. Whatever, Cynthia Slain. On second thought, it might have been Lucy Lethal. Dear Lord, crush my skull with a millstone. Smite me hard in the ass! I did not enjoy Dead Girls. Portions of it are competent, and I'm sure it's tidy with a friend, but I wouldn't recommend it to my most reviled archfoe. Yet somehow, it's slightly more watchable than Terror on Tour.
Posted by Dom Coccaro at 10:26 PM