Like Fred Olen Ray’s Hollywood Chainsaw Hookers, David DeCoteau’s Sorority Babes at the Slimeball Bowl-O-Rama is one of those titles that told a potential VHS renter everything he (or she, but let’s be real) needed to know: Will there be blood? Will there be boobs? Although both concerns were legitimate, answers were not needed, thanks to an unspoken contract of trust.
Tri Delta pledges Lisa (Michelle Bauer, The Erotic Misadventures of the Invisible Man) and Taffy (Brinke Stevens, the Mommy movies) are in the midst of hazing rituals dealt by the paddle-clutching hands of Babs (Robin Stille, The Slumber Party Massacre). The final piece of their initiation puzzle is to break into the bowling alley at the local mall to steal a trophy. Three Peeping Tom frat guys accompany Lisa and Taffy, who happen to arrive at the alley as a punky thief named Spider (Linnea Quigley, Witchtrap) performs a little B&E on the premises herself.
As luck would have it, the six knock over the one trophy containing an imp (played by a rubber monster voiced in an urban patois by — ahem — Dukey Flyswatter, aka Michael Sonye of Surf Nazis Must Die). Uncle Impie, as he’s called, grants each a wish for letting him loose — the most obvious placing Bauer in (and then out of) incredibly sexy lingerie for the movie’s remainder — but his acts of kindness are merely a cover for plans of flagitious intent.
The premise of DeCoteau’s Sorority Babes in the Slimeball Bowl-O-Rama is no smarter than DeCoteau’s A Talking Cat?! — in fact, it may be more stupid — yet the difference between the two is significant, and I don’t mean the 25-year gulf between them. It’s effort and spirit — both of which the 1988 cult classic possesses, to be clear. Today, it’s as if he doesn’t even try, because the free element of fun has disappeared.
For all the production’s limitations, Sorority Babes does so many things right. In typical Charles Band style, most of the movie takes place in a single location, but a bowling alley is engaging. The imp barely moves beyond his mouth, but Flyswatter gives him a personality. Scripter Sergei Hasenecz’s human characters are one-note, but the actors’ performances have gumption. By embracing its trashiness, this early work of DeCoteau radiates a silliness and sexiness that tickle all the buttons video-store exploitation should. —Rod Lott