Breeders (Tim Kincaid, 1986)

Do virgins wear leopard-print skirts? Do virgins snort cocaine? Do virgins look like LeeAnne Baker? Breaking down the stereotypes of what constitutes a virgin in today's lackadaisical labiascape, Breeders is here to smash your preconceived notion of what female celibacy looks like. Yet, while it's doing all that, it also titillates, horrifies, and, most importantly, it entertains like a ten pound mothersbaugh. Cascading like a mucus-laden waterfall onto the crease-filled lower back of a dilapidated blonde, sci-fi horror/exploitation auteur extraordinaire Tim Kincaid (Bad Girls Dormitory, Mutant Hunt, Robot Holocaust, etc.) has decided to tackle the festering blight that is human reproduction. As an old-school Friend of Dorothy, Mr. Tim Kincaid (a.k.a. Joe Gage) views mating as that vulgar activity straight people like to engage in every so often. While he appreciates their tendency to make new gays, he finds the act itself to be obscene. Nowadays, though, that attitude has softened somewhat, as everyone, even Lance Bass and, N.P.H., seem to be using their sperm for reproductive purposes. But there are still those out there, the hardcore, the unflappably fabulous, who equate copulation with farm animals and white supremacists. And this film, made in, where else?, New York City circa 1986, encapsulates that anti-intercourse principle in the most succinct terms possible. Sure, on the surface, the film might seem like it's about a slimy alien life-form who collects virginal Manhattanites in order to mate with them. But having closely examined this film from every angle imaginable, it's obviously about much more than that. For starters, are there that many women in New York City who are still virgins? I doubt it. No, what Tim Kincaid has done is he's replaced the gay men–in other words, guys who rarely ever see the inside of a functioning vagina–with a bunch of straight women who have never seen the inside of a functioning cock–and by "inside," I'm referring to the seminal fluid it dispenses, not the blood and spongy tissue that keep the cock cock-like.
 

 

As far as theories go, that's probably one of the most intelligent things I have ever read. You think? Oh, yes. It's true, a mentally challenged unicorn could have figured out that a film called "Breeders," a film that was written and directed by the man who brought us Kansas City Trucking Co., El Paso Wrecking Corp. and L.A. Tool and Die, might possess a slightly negative stance when it comes to the subject of birthing and babies. However, you laid out your theory in a manner that was easy to digest. And for that, I salute you. Why, thank you. I appreciate that.
 

 

Even though I mentioned her right off the bat, it was hard for me not to go on a wordy tangent that lavished an insane amount of praise on the creamy shoulders of LeeAnne Baker, who plays Kathleen, the statuesque nurse who thinks something "spooky" is going on at the Manhattan hospital she works. Yeah, what was up with that? I mean, don't you usually start off your Tim Kincaid movie reviews with a creepy, yet mildly endearing tribute to LeeAnne Baker, the finest actress the video screen has ever seen? I guess. I don't know. It all depends on how big her part is. And in Breeders she's merely a supporting player.
 

 

The real star of Breeders, believe or not, is Tim Kincaid himself, as he has made, what I think, is his masterpiece. Teaming up with his go to makeup artist, Ed French, the guys who did the music for Mutant Hunt, Don Great and Thomas Milano (the so-called "theme from Mutant Hunt" is featured throughout this film), and his usual assortment of Tim Kincaid regulars, all the elements seem come together in this film.

One of those Tim Kincaid regulars I just alluded to appears in the opening scene as film's first victim. Getting out a taxi cab in disgust, Donna (Natalie O'Connell) turns toward the cab and starts yelling at her date. While I didn't quite catch every insult she hurled in his direction (he obviously did something to piss her off), I did hear her say something about a "second rate Italian restaurant." Either way, alone in a weird part of the city, with only her fishnet pantyhose to keep her warm, Donna finds herself in a precarious situation. Don't worry, though, a kindly old German man walking his dog will make sure she makes it home safely, or will he?

 

 

Just like the slit on her leopard-print skirt, kindly old German men are unpredictable. What the hell does that mean? Well, you see, when the wind hits the slit on Donna's leopard-print skirt, it causes it to flap haphazardly from side to side in a manner that can best be described as unpredictable.
 

 

I'm still not following. It would seem that the kindly old German man isn't as kindly as he initially lead on. Okay, I got it. Waking up in the hospital, Donna was apparently the victim of a bizarre rape; "bizarre" because her vagina was not filled to the brim with the sperm of a not-so kindly old German man, but with an organic matter of unknown origin. The doctor in her care, Dr. Gamble Pace (Teresa Farley), and the detective assigned to her case, Det. Dale Andriotti (Lance Lewman), are both at a loss. The doctor, who is wearing a white lab coat with a taupe skirt, is at a loss because she's never seen anything like this, and the detective, who is wearing a brown blazer, can't understand why Donna is having trouble remember anything about the attack.
 

 

Meanwhile, over in the fashion district, a slinky brunette is putting on a modeling clinic at a nearby loft. Posing in a variety of different bathing suits (my favourite being the black and white bikini), Karinsa (Frances Raines) is doing her best to make sure Gail (Amy Brentano), a fashion photographer, gets all the angles she needs; with a little help from Alec (Adriane Lee), a makeup artist, and Ted (Matt Mitler), a hair stylist.
 

 

It's one thing for me to believe that a woman who wears a leopard-print skirt with fishnet pantyhose is a virgin, it's another thing all together for me to believe that a fashion model who does cocaine and likes to do aerobics in the nude is a virgin as well. Oh, didn't I mention that Donna was a virgin before the attack? Well, she was. And so is Karinsa, a coked-up model/former gymnast from Wisconsin.
 

 

Popping a tape into her boombox, Karinsa snorts a couple of lines of her beloved cocaine and removes the blue bikini she was wearing when the photo shoot ended (Gail, Alec, and Ted have gone out for Thai food), and proceeds to stretch in the nude. Hey, look. Ted's back. How embarrassing. Covering herself up with a towel, Karinsa stands awkwardly to the side as Ted retrieves his wallet; oh, that Ted is a sly one, using the old forgotten wallet trick to get him a look-see at Karinsa's beautiful backside. Um, hello? Ted's a hair stylist who lives with his mother. Yeah, so, that doesn't mean he can't appreciate Frances Raine's rotund bum.

It doesn't look like Ted's in the mood to appreciate any ass today, as he has starts to convulse on the floor of Gail's studio. Looking on in horror, well, sort of, she looks more stunned than anything else, Karinsa finally begins to scream when blood starts erupting from his mouth and chest. And just like that, Karinsa is no longer in the presence of a wallet-forgetting hair stylist who lives with his mother, she is now face-to-face, at least I think it had a face, with a slimy creature covered in dark nipples.

 

 

Don't get me wrong, I love Frances Raines, she gorgeous to the max. And the deadpan style of acting that Teresa Farley is employing is, to put it mildly, off the charts in terms of being impassively matter-of-fact in a hospital setting. Oh, and I'm totally down with the leopard-print skirt-related antics of Natalie O'Connell; her New York accent is adorable. But we want LeeAnne Baker, and we want her now. Be patient. I'm sure she's gonna come along soon.
 

 

In the meantime. No! Fuck the meantime! We want LeeAnne Baker! You have given me no choice. What do we want? We want to see LeeAnne Baker's long legs encased in white stockings or pantyhose! When do we want it. Um, now? If it's not too much trouble. Fine. Towering over Dr. Gamble Pace on the roof of the hospital, Kathleen (LeeAnne Baker), a nurse who works at...yeah, yeah, she works at the hospital, get to the part where you tell us what she's wearing. Man, you're quite the...just do it! Wearing a dark coat over top her white nurses uniform, which includes a nurse's cap, a white shirt, a white skirt, white nylons, and a pair of white pumps, Kathleen tells Dr. Pace that she's afraid. Concerned about the recent spate of attacks on young women, Kathleen is clearly on edge.
 

 

In order to quell her fears, Dr. Pace tells Kathleen that she's a "big girl." In other words, stop being a baby and focus on the task at hand.
 

 

As Kathleen leaves the roof, we get a great shot of the back of LeeAnne Baker's white nylon-adorned legs in motion. Less importantly, we can't help but notice that the creature who attacked the leopard-print virgin and the coked-up virgin was lurking nearby as Kathleen and Gamble spoke. Since Donna (the leopard-print virgin) is still out of it, Dr. Pace and Det. Andriotti decide to interview Karinsa (the coked-up virgin). Unlike Donna, Karinsa remembers who attacked her. Yelling, "it was Ted," Karinsa's half-crazed outburst has given Det. Andriotti his first break in the case. But then again, most LeeAnne Baker fans probably didn't catch any of these plot developments, as they were probably too busy watching LeeAnne Baker, who was standing in the background for the duration of the scene. 
 

 

There's nothing to distract LeeAnne Baker fans in the upcoming scene, as Breeders becomes "The LeeAnne Baker Show" for the next ten or so minutes. If the sound of her white pumps hitting the pavement as she walked home wasn't exquisite enough, her walk gets its own music. As the music, which we'll call, "Kathleen's Walking Home Theme," plays while she walks, I could help but notice that she has one of the sexiest walks I have ever seen. Now, was her jaunt in white nylons as iconic as her black stockings stroll in Necropolis? Not quite. Nonetheless, LeeAnne Baker + Walking + Nylons = Cinematic Heaven.
 

 

After watching LeeAnne Baker walk in white nylons as seen from the front, the side, and the back, it's time to see them being taken off in a slow, deliberate fashion. Entering her kitchen, LeeAnne Baker/Kathleen grabs a giant pot from the fridge and places it on the counter. Having accomplished this feat with flying colours, LeeAnne Baker/Kathleen turns her attention to the removal of her nurse's uniform. And you what that means? We're about to find out what kind of hosiery she's wearing.
 

 

Removing her jacket first, then her nurse's hat, LeeAnne Baker/Kathleen pauses for a moment, before continuing to disrobe. Unfastening the buttons on her short sleeve nurse's shirt, LeeAnne Baker/Kathleen pauses yet again. It's obvious she senses something is wrong. Well, whatever it is, her skirt and nylons aren't going to remove themselves, so she rectifies this with an abrupt hiking motion.
 

 

And, if you ask me, it was a little too abrupt. In fact, it was so abrupt, that I didn't get a chance to see LeeAnne Baker's thighs being gripped by the tightness of her nylons.
 

 

Instead of getting angry about the abruptness of the hiking motion, I've decided to use my imagination. Okay, I'm imagining LeeAnne Baker. She's standing in her kitchen. The camera pans down to her feet (which still are adorned with white nylons and a pair of white pumps) to reveal a white skirt dropping to the floor around her ankles. Putting her right foot on top a chair, LeeAnne Baker proceeds to unattach, not before caressing her right legs with both hands, the suspenders that are keeping her white stockings up. After both stockings have been removed in this fashion, a naked LeeAnne Baker heads towards the bathroom.
 

 

Unlike the disrobing scene, LeeAnne Baker's artful profile filmed from every possible angle as she showers. Capturing her Lois Ayres-esque beauty in a manner that will satisfy even the most ardent of LeeAnne Baker fans, the soapy shower scene (lather those perky breasts, you svelte sex goddess), much like the kitchen scene, features many pauses. Does she have a reason to be skittish? I don't know, but LeeAnne Baker is now clean as whistle and sporting a towel.
 

 

Who am I kidding? You know something slimy and gross is coming her way. And I don't mean her boyfriend, Brett (Mark Legan), a real jackass who must have been standing on a milk crate when he stood next to the statuesque nurse wearing a towel, as there's no way he's taller than LeeAnne Baker; after all, she is, to quote Dr. Gamble Pace, "a big girl."
 

 

All women have something slimy and gross coming their way, and the six women, seven, if you include the bag lady (Rose Geffen), who appear in Breeders are no different. As expected, Gail, the photographer, and Alec, the makeup artist, are both visited by an alien sex fiend; the latter's encounter involves legginess (don't underestimate the intrinsic allure of a virginal makeup artist's gams) and the world's unluckiest rapist.

As the film goes underground (follow the red brick road), Breeders enters what I like to call, it's mucus pit phase. In other words, if you enjoyed watching adult female virgins wandering around naked, you're gonna love seeing them all together in a giant vat of mucus. And, yes, you know who is front and centre in the sticky nest. Actually, she was placed in the back of the giant vat. Remember kids, LeeAnne Baker is a big girl. Always place her at the back when filming a group of naked ladies writhing in a pit filled to the brim with mucus, as you don't want her to block the other women.

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Bad Girls Dormitory (Tim Kincaid, 1986)

When I first caught a glimpse of the giant wall fitted with barbed wire that surrounded the correctional facility at the centre of this deft love letter to female captivity, my initial reaction was: Damn, someone clearly doesn't want anyone living behind it to escape. However, after spending a few moments inside the inadequately run dormitory for wayward girls, I've come to the conclusion that the concrete and barbed wire wasn't there to keep the girls from breaking out, it was there to keep me from breaking in. Now, I've seen my fair share of films over the past couple of months that sport incarcerated ladies under duress, but none of them have featured as many potential life partners as Bad Girls Dormitory does, the overpriced root beer of women in prison flicks. One-by-one, I would fall deeply in love with their gruff exteriors, can-do spirit, and murderous gusto–and, not to mention, their feathered hair, parched lips, and the ease in which they were able to dance to the music of Man Parrish in an enclosed space. The only logical explanation I can come up with is that all the girls were from New York City. Sure, one of them was playing a fresh off the bus small town girl. But even then, I think she was from Staten Island. (I'm no authority on the subject, but her curly hairdo was definitely styled somewhere within the five boroughs.) While I worshiped the girls for their brash, big city attitudes, I was mildly horrified when it came time to unveil the uniform the girls at this unnamed dormitory (which seemed more like a prison, than an actual "dormitory") will be wearing for the duration of this awe-inspiring motion picture. Suddenly, the girls appear onscreen, and low and behold, their lower extremities sheathed in a pair of blue jeans and the upper part of their torso is adorned with a no-nonsense white t-shirt. In other words, the girls are being forced to dress like that asshole from that ketchup commercial that was inexplicably popular twenty years ago. (Oh, and, just for the record, I'm a big fan of that commercial.) Oh, and when I say, "a pair of blue jeans," I don't mean, "jean shorts." What I'm talking about are your run-of-the-mill blue jeans (the kind your mom wears when she's pulling weeds in the garden).

Did I let the fact that I was a tad underwhelmed by the ho-hum nature of the uniforms the girls had to wear in this movie undermine my enjoyment? What are you fucking kidding? If anything, it actually enhanced my enjoyment. You see, writer-director Tim Kincaid (Riot on 42nd Street) is an artist, and like any artist, he knows how to turn something that is bland and uninspiring into something that will uplift and arouse greatness in others. The blue jeans and the white t-shirts were like a blank canvas, and Mr. Kincaid's imagination was the paint. In a stroke of genius, he allowed each inmate to tinker with the structural makeup of their white t-shirt. Some simply rolled up the sleeves, while others just cut them off all together. I don't want to overstate this, but I think the decision to let the girls to endow their t-shirts with individual characteristics was one of the greatest in film history.

In the spirit of transparency, some of the t-shirts were already sleeveless (i.e. they were manufactured as such). But for the most part, the girls did add personal touches to their shirts. I guess when you first enter the dormitory you're given a choice between a t-shirt with sleeves or a t-shirt without sleeves; what you do with after it's been handed to you is entirely up to the person wearing it. One girl who wisely chose to go sleeveless was Paige (Natalie O'Connell), as her ample bosom would have suffocated underneath all that excess t-shirt fabric. Anyway, mere seconds after arriving at the Port Authority Bus Terminal, Paige finds her ample bosom in a degrading situation. Hoping to make some money as a model, Paige is suddenly topless in the office of a sleazy pornographer. Just as she was about to be violated by a naked man named Roland (Harve Soto), the operation is busted by some prudish vice cops. And Paige is, you guessed it, sent to a juvenile detention centre run by Miss Madison (Marita), a stylish Colombian woman.

Earlier that day, in another sketchy part of town, Marina (Teresa Farley) is left holding a bag of cocaine in a ramshackle room on the third floor of a condemned building. Is she shocked when her boyfriend Paco (Jeffrey Iorio) and a female drug dealer wearing a leopard print fingerless gloves bail on her when the cops arrive. Actually, I bet she wasn't surprised at all when the spiky-haired drug dealer (her vest was leopard print as well) took off when things started to get out of hand, but she was definitely hurt by Paco's actions. (Why, Paco? Why?) You could totally tell, as she stood there in her black, mesh tank-top, that she didn't expect to be left in the lurch like that.

In the crazy, mixed up world of Bad Girls Dormitory, there's no time to ask Paco why he bolted or explain to the cops that I'm a simple country girl from Staten Island, because, before you know it, Marina, Paige, and another girl, who we'll later come to know as Eula (Renata Cobbs), are listening to Dr. DeMarco (Dan Barclay) and the lovely Nurse Stevens (Rebecca Rothbaum) lay down the ground rules as they prepare to administer a full body search. Telling them to "lean over," the doctor begins his examination. I wonder if he found anything? I doubt it. In fact, I have a nagging suspicion that the whole ordeal was just an excuse for Dr. DeMarco, and, yes, Nurse Stevens, to get a sneak peak at the latest line of underage undercarriages to hit the dormitory, as both of them, as we'll soon find out, are unabashed when it comes to idolizing the vaginal plateaus of others.

Meanwhile, Miss Madison, who obviously does not share the orificial obsessions of her pussy-starved staff, is giving Ron (Rick Gianasi), a handsome social worker, a tour of her first-class correctional facility (well, in her mind, it's "first-class"). Informing her that he'll find his own way out after the tour is over, Ron starts poking his head around the place. The first place he pokes his head is the basement, but all he finds down there is Jen (Jane Donadio), a shy, virginal redhead smoking weed. However, he hits pay dirt with the next place he pokes his head when stumbles upon some young ladies showering. Lathering her taut body with enough soap to clean a small Guatemalan family, Tim Kincaid's camera is in love with LeeAnne Baker (a.k.a. the reputed pleasure droid from Mutant Hunt). Playing an inmate with short hair, LeeAnne's unnamed character is a pro when it comes to washing her perky frame in front of her bratty peers. Strangely enough, Ron's not interested in the svelte brunette from Necropolis, no, his lustful gaze is focused squarely on Lori (Carey Zuris), an equally slender woman with dirty blonde hair. Unlike the other so-called "grown ups" who work in this hellhole, Don's perverted leering is tinged with an air of sadness. Staring at one another for quite some time, Lori, who's too depressed to bother to wash herself with any zest whatsoever, eventually tires of his empathetic leering and curtly asks him, "Seen enough?"

Feminine chaos is best way to describe what transpires next, as we're ushered into the dorm's mess hall. A veritable cornucopia of charming tough chicks, the cafeteria is awash with cigarettes, soda pop, plastic utensils, chocolate bars, white t-shirts, big hair, and, of course, the sound of Man Parrish's expertly programmed sequencers and drum machines. Now, I should warn you, people who are unaccustomed to seeing this many attractive women gathered together in a small space might want to look away during this sequence. As for the rest of us, let's dig in.

The mess hall scene is probably the most important in the entire film, as it introduces us to all women we'll be spending next eighty or so minutes with. Having already been introduced to the so-called "fresh meat," this section of the film gives us an opportunity to meet the dormitory's more hardened residents. And you can't get any more hardened than Lisa (Jennifer Delora) and Rebel (Donna Eskra), two gals who take bullying to new and exciting places. Eyeballing Lori almost immediately, Lisa stakes her claim by telling her she has pretty eyes. However, she's distracted when she discovers that Barb (Frances Raines) is cutting Jen's meat. The "Red" of the Bad Girls Dormitory universe, the excessively blonde Valeska (Charmagne Eckert), the dormitory's most alluring "guest," tells Paige, Marina, and Eula that she's the girl to talk to if you need anything (whether it be a nail-laden baseball bat or a slightly used box of tampons), because she's got "connections."

Even more eyeballing takes place when we encounter Dottie (Kate McCamy), a shock-haired cauldron of bewitching unpleasantness who takes exception with the fact that Deke (Parri Shahmanesh), a butch lesbian, and her bubble-headed gal pal Lenka (Cathryn Bissell), are giving her the stink-eye. I'm guessing the reason behind their stink-laden stares might have had something to do with Dottie's plastic fork-themed attempt to flirt with McCoy (Bill Peterson), a guard/rapist who works at the dormitory. At any rate, employing an undercooked hot dog to help accentuate the overall impact of her hand gestures, Dottie tells them point blank, "Don't make me get up. If I do, I'll be twisting some tits." After she finished uttering that line, I couldn't help but notice that I was starting to develop strong feelings toward her. As this was happening, I began to think to myself: Try not to get too attached, you never know which of these girls is going to die horribly.

Luckily, we only see Dottie two more times after her verbal spat with Deke and Lenke, as the more I thought about her, the more I wanted to swoop in and rescue her from this banal existence. After lights out, we see Dottie, who I didn't recognize at first, screaming, "Shut up, you stupid fruitcake" to a disruptive individual in another bunk; her brash demeanour reminded me of Antonia Basilotta (a.k.a. Toni Basil), as I could totally picture the famed actress, singer, choreographer, and all around fabulous person telling someone to be quiet in this manner. Her final appearance takes place during visiting hours in the mess hall when she is briefly seen talking to her boyfriend. Well, "talking" is a bit of a stretch, as he says, "Hey, baby," to which Dottie responds, "You motherfuckin' scumbag!" I'm no expert when it comes to inner workings of the human brain, but I think Dottie even realized that "motherfuckin' scumbag" might have been way harsh. But then again, her assessment could have been right on the money. Hey, maybe he was a "motherfuckin' scumbag." Who knows.

Okay, with Dottie out of the picture, who am I supposed to obsess over now? I liked the transition Paige makes in the film, as she goes from being a naive bumpkin with large breasts to a savvy sex pot...with large breasts. The way she slumped in her chair, opened a couple of buttons on her button-fly jeans, and told Dr. DeMarco, "I'm a whore," in response to his question, "Why are you here"? was, I'll admit, pretty bad ass. Yet, I still found her to be too soft. No, I like my bad girls to be always hard.

How 'bout Rebel? Oooh, I loved her. She was complex, horny as fuck, scrappy (she picks a fight with Marina in the mess hall after mail call), and always full of surprises. Choosing a sleeveless top to express herself, Rebel is essentially Lisa's big haired sidekick (one who gets told to "shut her hole" on occasion), but she wasn't a mindless sycophant. Far from it. Her decision to help Gloria (Sherry Hoard), a girl who is trying to hide her pregnancy from Miss Madison and the guards, was very out of character. (You would think that Dr. DeMarco and Nurse Stevens would have noticed that Gloria was pregnant–you know, with them being on the cusp of the medical profession and all. But I doubt they took their jobs seriously. In fact, I bet the only reason they worked there was to capitalize on the abundance of cheap heroin and guilt-free poontang.)

While the unexpected kindness she displays was a nice touch, the Rebel I prefer is the one who's constantly craving sex and facilitating the murder of her friend's rivals. The best examples of the former come when she finishes appeasing the carnal desires Dr. DeMarco and Nurse Stevens with the mollifying moistness of the throbbing fissure festering between her legs. Sapped of their strength, Rebel takes advantage of their post-coital lethargy by ridiculing them. My personal favourite was the way she told the doctor he was the "worst lay" she's ever had while simultaneously flipping her hair with her hand (the best after sex hair flip I've seen all year). Actually, telling Nurse Stevens, "I don't want a bitch, I want a man," while she smoothed out the creases in her white pantyhose was pretty great as well.

In terms of facilitating murder? Hmm, I'd say the look on Rebel's face when Lisa dispatches one of her rivals in the basement with piano wire was the best example of this specific character trait. Oh, and if the nonchalant look on the Rebel's face while Lisa murdered her rival reminded you of the equally nonchalant mug the luminous Laurie-Ann Gill wears in the music videos for Nudimension's "Amour Programmé" and "Living On Video" by Trans-X, then we share the same brain.

In one of the film's more bizarre scenes, Rebel agrees to escort Gloria to the bathroom (she is suffering from morning sickness). However, instead of helping her, she winds up getting sidetracked when the opportunity to have sex with a male guard (Mark Umile) comes along. The back and forth between the two, as Rebel fucks and Gloria pukes, was memorable because it's set to the music of Man Parrish, the electro pioneer behind such classics as "Hip Hop Be Bop (Don't Stop)" and "Boogie Down (Bronx)." The result is a strangely musical scene, where Gloria's repetitious cry, "Rebel, I need you," and Rebel's reply, "Just a minute...I'm coming," come across as lyrics when paired with Man's beats and synthesizers.

If the scene with Rebel and Gloria was the most bizarre, the mess hall sequence set to "Hose Me Down" by Man Parish and Beth Rudetsky was definitely the most awesome. Determining that the girls need to blow off some steam after the recent rape-induced suicide of one of their own (permitting male guards to work at a girls dormitory was a questionable decision), Miss Madison chaperones what has to be the greatest mess hall dance party scene in the history of cinema. Since she allows their boyfriends to attend, the scene suddenly becomes veritable haze of headbands, tank-tops with Japanese writing on them, Jheri curl, faint facial hair, studded bracelets, Polo cologne, and fingerless gloves. The way their break dancing duds combined with the residual new wave and punk styles that were still prevalent at the time was quite the eyeopener (the gap between masculinity and femininity was virtually nonexistent). Anyway, not only do we get to see LeeAnne Baker dance, we also get a glimpse into how shoddily run the dormitory actually is (while Miss Madison is overseeing the dance party, drugs are being sold and guards are groping girls right under her nose).

Judging by her pushy nature, you knew she was doomed the moment she started boasting to the new fish about her talents when it came to acquiring smuggled goods (which, as everyone knows, is Lisa's racket). But you got to give up to the gorgeous Charmagne Eckert for being so delectable as Valeska, the slenderest slice of womanly excellence to ever stalk the grimy halls of a girls dormitory. Sporting a natural gift for self-promotion, and, not to mention, the most lickable thorax in the known universe, Valeska's downfall may have been rapid, but her knack for laughing at the misfortunes of others was downright adorable.

Since they probably didn't shoot enough material to qualify as a feature length film, someone decided to include three drawn-out fight scenes to pad things out. And since Jennifer Delora (Frankenhooker) is a black belt in judo, why not have her fight one of the female guards? Sure, the rivalry between Lisa and a guard named Harper (Rachel Hancock) isn't really explained (I guess they just don't like each other), but their brawl in the girls' sleeping quarters was still pretty great. However, midway through their rematch in the basement, I couldn't help but notice that I was starting feel a tad sluggish. It got so bad, that I almost fell into a coma when another extended fight scene breaks out between a male guard and Marina's boyfriend. The fact that this fight occurs immediately after Lisa and Harper's second dust-up had ended was just plain egregious. In spite of that, I'm happy to report that Tim Kincaid's first non-gay porn foray into the lube-free realm of exploitation cinema is a smashing success.

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Riot on 42nd Street (Tim Kincaid, 1987)

If you live for the sensation that comes with letting sleazy, incompetent, and exceedingly violent pieces of trash cinema to scurry across the surface of your nonchalant eyeballs, then Riot on 42nd Street is a film you should seriously consider checking out. A barely proficient debacle masquerading as an ill-conceived tribute to a small strip of seedy concrete in New York City, filmmaker Tim "Joe Gage" Kincaid (Heatstroke and Breeders) has crafted an obscene, yet ludicrously well-meaning work of sordid brilliance. The film had me under its bizarre spell the moment we a catch a glimpse of 42nd Street in all its garish glory. Utilizing the sound of some Man Parrish-esque electro-funk, Mr. Kincaid simply points his uncomplicated camera in the general direction of the once infamous street and allows the unsavoury action to flow naturally. It's a shame the film couldn't have been just been a random collection of shots of movie theatre marquees, as the act reading of the names of some of the authentic grindhouse titles ("Vampire Hookers" and "Women's Prison Massacre") became a bit of an amusing lark after awhile. Unfortunately, a mustache-sporting stiff named Glenn (John Hayden) is observing the wounded aura of this unpleasant neighbourhood from the relative safety of a moving taxi cab, and is soon, whether we like it or not, going to be the driving force behind the film's straightforward plot. While riding in the back of the cab, Glenn sees lanky roller-skaters darting through traffic, saucy prostitutes applying unwanted pressure to the crotches of nosy cops, and leather-clad punks struggling to maintain their equilibrium. I found these three distinct groups to be quite charming in a demented sort of way. But I'm sad to say, that's it for them as far as camera time goes. Their sole reason for existing was to show Glenn how much the area has changed since getting out of prison.

Emerging after serving a three year sentence for involuntary manslaughter (he killed a man selling drugs in the aisles of his grindhouse theatre), Glenn, an underworld fixture, attempts to reconnect with the scruffy world he left behind.

A world that includes his brother, who is the leader of a street gang with matching jackets, his police detective lady-friend (Kate Collins), and his club-owning father.

With plans to open his own club (complete with gambling, music, comedy, and strippers), Glenn immediately attracts the ire of the shady gentleman who runs Love Connections, a strip club located across the street.

The fact that this new club is gonna siphon suburban low rollers away from his establishment isn't what pushes the Love Connections owner (Michael Speero) over the edge. Uh-uh, it's the fact that some of the strippers who worked for him have decided to jump ship and work for Glenn.

When sending his musclebound henchman (Carl Fury) to scare Glenn's staff before their grand opening ends in disaster, the Love Connections proprietor amps up the bedlam by delivering parceled severed heads and a throng of assassins armed with Uzi's.

As you would expect, Glenn is angered by this wanton display of firearm-based mayhem. Gathering up the survivors, he plans his revenge.

Awkwardly staged fist-fights and an extended strip club sequence were the only things Riot on 42nd Street had going for it near the halfway mark. I mean, I was satisfied, but I was hoping for more–you know, in terms of violence and degradation.

Then, all of a sudden, I noticed that the cinematic temperature begin heat up a smidgeon when the musclebound henchman cuts the head off a seemingly random dude hiding in an alleyway (complete with headless twitching and horror movie-quality arterial spray). However, the flood gates of insanity fly wide open the moment the assassins unload their lead cargo into the clientele of Glenn's club.

Now, I've seen plenty of people mowed down in movies before, but this was ridiculous. The sight of innocent patrons being sprayed with gunfire–in slow motion–was appalling and gleefully twisted all at once. And you have got to remember, The Garage (the actual name of Glenn's dive) has about four or five rooms, so that means the assassins have got to hit multiple targets. In any case, it is one of the most absurdly violent scenes I have ever seen.

Call me cruel, but the fact that Zerocks, the Brooklyn stand up comic, didn't happen to catch one of the many bullets flying through the club was a minor tragedy (his lameness was stupefying).

The only acting performance of note in Riot on 42nd Street is the one turned in by Frances Raines as the sharp-tongued girlfriend of the Love Connections owner. Despite the fact that every scene she's in seems to end with her being slapped in the face, I thought Frances hurled emasculating insults at her foppish boyfriend with a snotty grace.

In addition, I was rather enamored with way she stood; in that, she looked like a new wave goddess when looked at from a cockeyed point of view.

The rest of cast sport blank stares and are pretty much useless when came to displaying any sort of real human emotion. The corpse-like John Hayden has virtually zero charisma and Jeff Fahey smokes a lot and throws Kate Collins the odd look of disapproval.

Since the film is called "Riot" on 42nd Street, it made sense that an actual riot breaks out during the film's action-packed finale. However, as to why a riot ensues is still a mystery to me. Seriously, I had no idea why this particular group of people were fighting with one another. None of them, as far as I could tell, had anything to do with the movie. It seemed like, from where I was sitting, as just a mindless orgy of violence.

The shot of the little girl in the acid-wash jean jacket clubbing a man with a baseball bat was the most puzzling aspect of the riot sequence. I mean, what was she so angry about? I guess she was supposed the symbolize that violence can affect even the most innocent among us. It's a stretch, but it's all I got to work with. Anyway, it's a kooky moment in what turned out to be one seriously kooky movie.

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