A lot of you wimps out there are planning to sit out Halloween this year, so listen up. Maybe you're too lazy-butted to go out to the Elvira Frightfest or the Ghostworld Bimborama, but the least you can do is rent this year's tribute to All Hallow's Eve, the movie that encapsulates in a mere 80 minutes all the history, tradition and dark magic of this most ancient of holidays, the movie that you'll want to hide from your immediate family because it's just so dang embarrassing.
I speak, of course, of "Hookers in a Haunted House."
As you may have already imagined, "HHH" comes to us from the one and only Lou Vockell, the one-man film industry of Cincinnati, who includes in every movie he makes at least one scene of himself in drag. Since Lou is quite beefy, quite bearded, and quite testosterone-voiced, this makes for some of the most horrifying gross-out scenes since Milton Berle first donned a housedress on "Texaco Star Theater."
The plot is simple. The plot is ... uh ... well ... these hookers go to this haunted house.
Actually it's a fairly intricate story. First three hookers troll the suburbs of Cincinnati. Then they get picked up by three goofy guys who are living in the house of a Star Trek Nerd who wears Spock ears all the time. Then, while two of them are making the sign of the five-fanged fandango, the nerd gets out the ouija board and summons "hideous, vile, ill-tempered and excessively butch spirits from beyond the grave."
The principal demon turns out to be a disgruntled supermarket stock boy who puts a paper sack over his face and becomes ... Bag Job, a serial killer who eviscerates topless dancers and their aardvarking clients with various grocery-store paraphernalia.
The whole story is told in flashback by the sole survivor, bleached-blonde B-movie scream queen Leslie Culton, who manages to escape by being bashed over the head with a beer bottle by the ghostly spirit of her ancient drag-queen ancestor, thereby receiving the secrets of the erotic arts that allow her to then confuse Bag Job with the sheer range of her exotic-dancing wardrobe.
Yes, they really had a script for this.
Unfortunately, Lou Vockell IS limited by the Cincinnati talent pool, so only two of his three haunted hookers agreed to get nekkid for the camera, but he more than makes up for it with special effects -- lightning, levitating weejee boards, the haunted house itself -- that would get a solid B-minus at any Adobe Photoshop Fun Ed class.
In fact, they're not so much special effects as special-ed effects. Of course I loved em.
Five dead bodies. Forty-eight breasts. One catfight. Death by cornflake-battering (a cereal killer, get it?). Whangdoodle-cleavering. Giant ganja-smoking. Grocery-receipt strangulation. Multiple lap dances. Cheesy fifties sci-fi footage with screaming jungle bunny in a loincloth attacked by a giant lizard. Mouth-to-breast resuscitation. One of the longest slow-motion shower scenes ever filmed. Multiple aardvarking. Price-labeler Fu.
Drive-In Academy Award nominations for Jeff Weldy as Nerd King collector of jars full of eyeballs and "supernatural greasy lubricants"; Jenny Wallace as the hot redhead babe who interrupts her strangulation to fix her makeup; Lou Vockell, the writer/director, for his cameo as the ancient grandmotherly keeper of the erotic arts, who says "Back in my day the women were BORN old, ugly and scary"; and Leslie Culton and her two enormous talents as the sole surviving hooker, for being a topless nurse, a topless jungle goddess, a topless spacebabe ("Beam me up, Scotty! There's no life on Planet Impotent!"), a topless cigar-chomping devil girl, a topless catgirl, a topless leather girl, and a topless bikini girl, but refusing to do any nudity that wasn't necessary to the plot.
Two stars. Joe Bob says check it out.
"Hookers in a Haunted House" website: hotmovies2000.com.
(To reach Joe Bob, go to joebob-briggs.com or email him at JoeBob@upi.com. Snail-mail: P.O. Box 2002, Dallas, TX 75221.)