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Thomas Edward Keith
Vincent Van Patten,
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Julie K. Smith,
Big chests in small vests, chocolate sauce, and moviedom's crappiest rickety bridge.
I've never expected too much from a film by trashy B-movie director Jim Wynorski: a silly premise, some cheapo effects and a bit of nudity from some busty babes, and I'm usually fairly happy.
Well, Cheerleader Massacre delivers on the former and definitely the latter, but unfortunately is a tad light when it comes to the splatter. And when a film has the word 'massacre' in the title, and scrimps on the gore, then Houston, we have a problem.
Wynorski's movie centres on a group of cheerleaders who, along with their teacher, mini-bus driver and a couple of guys, become stranded in the mountains during a snowstorm. They make their way on foot to a deserted mountain retreat, where they find food and shelter. And a crazy killer who wants them all dead! From the outset, good old Jim ensures that his film features plenty of scenes loaded with T&A, and includes the obligatory shower scene, along with numerous other moments in which tasty women get nekkid (including a spot of raunchy softcore sex and a very gratuitous three-babes-in-a-hot-tub scene). None of the women look young enough to be cheerleaders (and are never even seen in their outfits), but who cares about such details when they're all too willing to strip off in the name of art?
I do care, however, about the movie's numerous lacklustre deaths. With such an extremely lurid title, I had been hoping for some inventive bloodletting to go with all of the bums, bush, and boobs; instead, practically all of the killings occur off-screen or feature next to no gore. Only a silly post-decapitation scene (achieved with cheap-as-chips CGI) comes anywhere near to delivering the goods.
Still, if you're feeling in the mood for some titillation, or a bit of slasher silliness minus the grue, then, at 82 minutes, at least Cheerleader Massacre won't be too much of a waste of your time.
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