Four sorority girls with large breasts hike into the wood with their guide Lunk to find out the true story behind the Bare Wench. Then they show off their chests following a mangled version...
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Totally mindless entertainment that works well as a spoof. However, when the absurdity of the whole thing starts coming into focus, you'll be rolling on the floor laughing like my friends ... See full summary »
While doing the inventory for a lingerie outlet in a high rise office building, five attractive women are terrorised by a series of bizarre killings. They suspect that the strange janitor, ... See full summary »
Five college women buy the old Hokstedter place for their new sorority house. They got it cheap because of the bloody incidents from five years before. They decide to stay in it for the ... See full summary »
Four sorority girls with large breasts hike into the wood with their guide Lunk to find out the true story behind the Bare Wench. Then they show off their chests following a mangled version of the Blair Witch storyline. Written by
Matt Russell <firstname.lastname@example.org>
[holding a flashlight aiming up at her bare breasts]
I just want to apologize to Lori's boyfriend, and Toni's boyfriend, and Nikki's boyfriend, and my boyfriends. I insisted on everything. I insisted that we go without our bras; I insisted that we french kiss; I insisted that we shave down south. And now this is where we've ended up. It's because of me that we're here now - hungry, cold, horny, and hunted. I'm so scared. I'm scared to close my legs, and I'm scared to open them.
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During the closing credits, outtakes of the bonfire scene are shown. See more »
No other film in the history of cinema can compare to The Bare Wench project. From an adapted screenplay, director Jim Wynorski creates a movie of such sweeping scope, archetypal passion and shimmering effervescent imagination that it makes The Godfather seem like a high school film project shot by a blind lemur with Parkinson's disease. The dramatic tension builds incrementally from the playful motel room pillow fight, thru the relentless skinny-dipping, toward the epiphanic appearance of the Bare Wench, played with prostate shattering intensity by Julie Strain. In a masterful exhibition of flawless editing, the camp fire dancing girls appear as animated stick puppets projected against the wall of a two dollar peep show framed within the karmic residue of a reprobate's hallucinations. Is that sheer genius or what? The fact that this film was completely passed over by the Academy Awards Committee is one of the greatest travesties of justice since the conviction of Charles Manson.
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