Bitch Slap Review: The Kick-Ass Grindhouse Movie Tarantino Wishes He’d Made. Come Get Some, Bitches!

Share on Facebook posted 01-11-10 by Dan Kaufman

“Brutal violence, strong sexual content and language throughout, and brief drug use,” warns the poster for Rick Jacobson’s Bitch Slap, right beneath the big R for its well deserved rating. If the movie title didn’t stop you, if that warning didn’t stop you, if you’re not offended by the winking exploitation of the female body, then sit back and get ready for an exuberantly satisfying pulp thrill ride.

Bitch Slap (a title I’ll never get tired of saying) stars a trio of crazy-hot girls you’ve never heard of, but they each resemble someone you have; Trixie (Julia Voth) is Maybe Marisa Tomei, Hel (Erin Cummings) is Almost Marcia Cross, and Camero (America Olivo) is Vaguely Eva Mendes. After an intriguing quote from nineteenth-century English novelist Joseph Conrad (!), the film opens with licks of fire and smoke, before showing us the charred wreckage of what could be a car. And in the middle of it all is Trixie, the ingénue, disheveled and improbably dressed in a shiny gold mini-dress and hoop earrings. She looks skyward and pleads in true schlock style, “Oh my god! How did it come to this?!” In that one self-aware meta-moment, it’s already clear that Jacobson and crew have tongue firmly planted in cheek. That, plus titles in the opening credits such as “Casting Couch” and “Poet Laureates.”

The bulk of the film takes place on a tract of the Nevada desert featuring a dilapidated trailer camper (a grindhouse set piece if ever there was one). The three bad girls arrive and are introduced one by one as they exit the car. Actually, scratch that — their boobs are introduced first, in slo-mo, to hard rock, in full-on beer commercial mode. Did I mention it’s that kind of movie? The girls, whose relationships to one another are initially a mystery, are looking for some kind of stolen goods they believe might be nearby. From the snappy B-grade dialogue, it’s clear that the stakes are as high as the sexual tension among the three. One brutal interrogation of their surprise prisoner later, and they’re off searching for the loot. Most of the story blanks are filled in by flashbacks in reverse chronological order, and when even some of the title cards for these draw laughs, you know you’re in good hands.

Finding the right balance of camp versus sincerity in a film like this is no small feat, so all three lead actresses deserve kudos. Voth as the twitchy demure stripper Trixie is smart enough to play an effective and legitimately funny ditz — a very difficult task. Cummings’ character, Hel, the no-nonsense brains of the group, has to keep her cards a little closer to the chest (heh, heh), so her performance is more strait-laced, but it still works admirably. And Olivo plays Camero, the badass biker chick who is a powder-keg of batshit crazy with the shortest fuse ever. She has a tremendous burden to carry with this role, and in the hands of a lesser actress this could be a disaster. But Olivo came to this party to play. She works it, she sells it, and you’re buying it, buddy boy.

The true fourth star of the film is director and co-writer Rick Jacobson himself. A veteran of TV fare such as Baywatch, Hercules, and Xena: Warrior Princess, Jacobson brings his clear affection for the genre to the table. This movie doesn’t just pay homage to the tropes of sexploitation action, it revels in them. It rolls around and smears itself with them, then stands dripping and defiant, yelling “nanny nanny nanny” while flipping you the bird. It’s got T&A aplenty, gore, guns, explosions, leather, spikes, chains, double-crosses, sex, and a lethal yo-yo. It also contains what Jacobson calls, in 30ninjas’ exclusive interview with him, the “Self-Proclaimed Greatest Chick Fight in Cinema History.” He might just be right. Choreographed by über-Hollywood stuntwoman and burgeoning star Zoe Bell (of Quentin Tarantino’s Death Proof), and using the infamous alley fight from John Carpenter’s They Live as the high watermark it seeks to surpass, the fight in question is ridiculously and gloriously excessive.

Jacobson also claims that this is a movie about female empowerment. I’m sure some will find that debatable, but those who ponder the question while watching Bitch Slap are kind of missing the point. There’s no message here. There is only an expertly and lovingly crafted plate of cinematic junk food. Bon appetit, bitches!