Sunday, May 4, 2008

DAY 171--HOT WAX ZOMBIES ON WHEELS

I don't take too many notes when watching a film for review, maybe a few lines to remind me of whatever highlights--or lack thereof--in a particular movie so I can then write a (hopefully) cohesive review. Very rarely do I scribble comments about my feelings, but in suffering through the wretched HOT WAX ZOMBIES ON WHEELS I found myself writing such phrases as "What the fuck is this shit," and "at least there's plenty of nudity," before trailing off with "Fuck this movie."

Director Michael J. Roush's 2000 turdburger centers on an outrageous biker mama (Gwen Somers, looking like a middle-aged Quiet Riot groupie--sorry, that's redundant, isn't it?) and her henchman settling into a quiet fishing village to set up a waxing salon. Unbeknownst to the local populace, Somers and her musclebound beau are using their shop to transform them into mindless, hairless zombies. Only the owner of a lingerie boutique (Jill Miller, who'd be a lot more adorable with better material) and her vapid boyfriend can stop them from spreading their condition across the nation. However, no one can stop this movie from reeking like roadkill on a hot plate.

Rather than count the infinite number of HOT WAX's missteps, I spent the film's interminable running time trying to decide if this piece of shit was worse than ZOMBIES GONE WILD (after much needless, painful contemplation I've decided no--nothing is bad as THAT motherfucking thing). I considered drawing up the rules for a drinking game to make watching this dreck more palatable, like taking a shot whenever somebody uses the phrase "pesky body hair," or downing a double for each isolated sound effect unrelated to the events on screen, but most viewers would be comatose by the thirty-minute mark. (There would've also been a rule to drink whenever Roush digresses to an inexplicable and utterly stupid cutaway, but someone could die from alcohol poisoning doing that.)

ASS-COVERING LEGAL DISCLAIMER: Please don't attempt the above drinking game, which is written purely for humorous purposes. Besides the simultaneous damage to your liver and your brain, it would mean admitting to the world you watched a movie as utterly fucking stupid as this and neither of us want that.

Fuck this movie, indeed.

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