Item Description
Here's Jeff Hathcock's 1985 rare rape / revenge slasher opus Victims!Last time I checked, it was impossible to have any sort of sexual intercourse through a pair of jeans.I was wrong.Make no mistake. On paper, Victims! is a vile, distasteful exercise in damaged-male-fantasy-as-exploitation. The film's main impetus involves two rapes, plenty of humiliation, and a wide range of belligerent violence -- all directed towards women. Given director Jeff Hatchcock's intermittent misogynistic leanings (Night Ripper, Fertilize The Blaspheming Bombshell did), this comes as no surprise. Trepidation is natural. After all, who would want to sit through a 75 minute film filled with public access disco, constant butter knife edits, and 'Nam vet a-holes (sporting short-shorts and XL tube socks) who state, "If you wanna keep your tits, you better do as I say!"?Exactly. You would. For Victims! may be a theoretical rape-revenge trash can, but theory doesn't pay the bills. Especially in this brave new world of Hatchcockery. Abstaining from any pretense of reality, Victims! is the illiterate, dirty-minded second cousin that A Night To Dismember didn't know it had. So please, hold on to those tits. You're gonna need 'em.A woman walks up a staircase. Axe to the face. Another woman sleeps on rainbow sheets. Machete to the everywhere. One more woman exits her apartment. Knife to the back, courtesy some guy in drag. Then, a fat guy runs out of a deli and gets shot in the back. Finally, two men accost a randy couple in the forest. Everyone has sunburn. The boyfriend is killed. The girlfriend is beaten and raped (with jeans on). There are unexplained inserts of an Asian woman in a dark room with bamboo blinds.Incredibly, 60 minutes remain.From there, four 35 year old teenage girls in a large green Cadillac embark on a "field trip for geology class", while being followed (and terrorized) by our two villains. Gas stations. Campsites. Rock formations. The film grinds to a halt. Maybe. I have no problem with people seducing themselves in front of mirrors, Steve Martin impressions, and/or sweet dune buggy jumps. How about you?Victims! tries to distress us. It really does. From the silent molestation scenes lifted from I Spit On Your Grave to the blunt, degrading dialogue, the film's intent is sadly understood. But, where "normal" rape-revenge knock-offs bank on patent male callousness and little else (see God's Bloody Acre for a fine example), Victims! is incapable all over. Thankfully. Thus, we get a film immersed in bizarre edits, obsessed with The H.G. Lewis Longshot, sprinkled with everyday folks shouting their lines, and steeped in hilarity masquerading as intentioned disturbance. This is dirt-cheap, ridiculous non-reality at a special peak.As for the bad guys? One falls off a cliff and the other gets his penis cut off. (As if you didn't know.)ships in a plain sleeve w/ no artwork