Sorority Babes in the Slimeball Bowl-O-Rama (1988) Starring Linnea Quigley, Brinke Stevens & Michelle Bauer Directed by David DeCoteau Written by Sergei Hasenecs

Often, I find rhyme to be of far more importance than reason. What I mean is; what counts in a films longevity is not its glossy whole but rather those individual parts that occasionally come together to create a unique moment of magic. SORORITY BABES IN THE SLIMEBALL BOWL-O-RAMA has that quality; just the right ingredients in the appropriate amounts. This film unabashedly revels in what it is, bare beyond naked, its intentions are the very reason for being. It has it all and it exploits it all, first tickling your balls, then slapping them, before giggling off down a dark corridor. ("Come play with us Taffy")

The Year is 1988 and at the Tri Delta house, it is initiation night for new pledges. 'Taffy' (Brinke Stevens) and 'Lisa' (Michele Bauer) will do almost anything sadistic 'Babs' (Robin Rochelle) asks of them to gain acceptance. This is a familiar scene, played out on every campus across the country. Haze ‘em before you praise ‘em. Young innocents, willing to subject themselves to the most humiliating scenarios imaginable in order to belong, and in turn one day, do the same to others. I’ll pass thanks, but like the dorks on the screen, I am happy to watch.

This, of course, is what 'Calvin' (Andras Jones), 'Keith' (John Stuart Wildman) and 'Jimmie' (Hal Havins) are up to. Stuck in their dorm, across campus, these three losers have discovered the whereabouts of Felta Delta’s notorious initiation. They figure if they’re quiet enough, they may be able to spy on some good old ritualistic torture in the name of higher education. Knowing Bab’s reputation, they might even see some boob. Boobs aint all they see either; they’re treated to a spanking, followed by a whip cream dousing, culminating in Taffy and Lisa both needing a bath.

While spying on what surely has got to be one of the greatest shower scenes in the history of B-movies, the boys are caught in the act by brutal Babs. Not content with simply throwing the boys out, Babs decides that, as a punishment for their transgressions, the bumbling interlopers will get to play a part in the pledge’s final stunt. They are all charged with breaking into the local Bowl-O-Rama and stealing a trophy. Sensible Taffy says no, but caves when she realizes how badly Lisa wants to join the Sorority. Horny Jimmie, dorky Keith and drunk Calvin now find themselves right where they wanted to be, except for the whole breaking and entering thing. This may sound far fetched, but history proves how far people will go for acceptance, as well as how far a dork will go to possibly get some, which puts this all in the realm of the possible.

After a vomit fueled ride to the mall, the five of them must figure out how to get into the bowling alley. Turns out, this isn’t an issue, the door is open. Eyes on the prize; none of them thinks to question why this might be, they simply blunder ahead. After getting in, they discover the source of the easy egress, punky ‘Spider’ (Linnea Quigley) already hard at work robbing the Bowl-O-Rama. At this point, the sparks start to fly as the unholy three; Quigley, Stevens, and Bauer all share the screen. These three set the bar for B-movie babes in the late 80’s and early 90’s, SORORITY BABES was probably their crowning achievement.

After locating the trophy case they select the largest one, dropping it in their haste to leave. As the trophy lies on the ground it begins to smoke and a badly rendered clay demon emerges. As the frightened dorks stand staring at the claymation monstrosity, (minstrosity is more accurate) it begins to speak, introducing itself as ‘Uncle Impy’ ( Dukey Flyswatter ). He goes on to explain that he is a Genie of sorts, with the ability to grant wishes. Because the five of them are responsible for his escape, they each get one. As they line up to get what is coming to them, Spider and Calvin, declare they want no part of wishes or the wise-ass clay midgets offering them. Taffy, Jimmie, and Keith however are enthralled and remain to play with Impy and his promises. Disgusted by what they see, Calvin and Spider head for the exit only to discover that the doors are locked … and booby trapped.

The story now becomes a cautionary fairy tale on the “careful what you wish for” platform. Jimmie, Keith, and Taffy apparently have never learned that when a little clay demon offers you a deal; it’s probably a safe bet not to accept anything you can’t pay for. Once old Impy has his hooks firmly planted in his new pigeons, the bloodbath of absurdities begins in earnest, for those who took the Imp’s advances and those just trying to stay out of the way. Jimmie wants riches, Keith wants Lisa, and poor Taffy just wants to be prom queen. All wishes do come with consequences though and the evening is just beginning. Elsewhere in the mall, Babs and her toadies ‘Frankie’ (Carla Baron) and ‘Rhonda’ (Kathi O’Brecht) are watching on closed-circuit security monitors, unaware they are just as trapped by the Imps devilish curses.

For discerning B-movie geeks, SORORITY BABES is one of the defining films of its time. By delivering components that were frowned on in mainstream film, TITTIES AND BLOOD! TITTIES AND BLOOD! SAY IT WITH ME IT FEELS SO GOOD! It attempted to thwart the rampant conservatism prevalent in America during the eighties. This tit-filled gem delivered the goods and managed to do so under the radar of the censors, who in the staid ‘80s didn’t want anyone seeing a ‘tit’ let alone full frontal communal bathing.

This film was, as I said, under the radar, to the degree that most don’t even know of its existence. I came upon it purely by chance, after meeting Brinke Stevens and Linnea Quigley at a convention in Manhattan. The two urged me to seek the film out, and based on the male rule “do what the hot girls tell you”, combined with the desire to see a film with such an absurd title, I began an exhaustive search.

I prowled the jungles of out-of-the-way delete bins throughout New England in search of my elusive prey. SORORITY BABES was my endangered species and like a man of privilege, I meant to make it my trophy. Walking into strange Mom and Pop video stores I would look around, and sheepishly ask “you wouldn’t by any chance happen to have a copy of …SORORITY BABES IN THE SLIMEBALL BOWL-O-RAMA would you?” More often than not this simply got me blank stare #8, or occasionally the “we don’t carry adult titles, try Spanky’s sex shop on route 2”.

Now, I admit that the title is rather damning, but it was still a bitch trying to explain to Mom and Pop, that it was not an adult title and I was not going to rob them. I was simply looking for a ribald little movie that was nothing more than the height of juvenilia in an R rated package. Sure it was aimed expressly at those not yet old enough for the hardcore but still primed and ready to pump. Yes it was filled with full frontal nudity, spanking, and women bathing together, it had demons, and head bowling but it was also a public service film, offering an outlet for underage monkey-slapping. Wasn’t it their duty to provide a service we, their customers wanted rendered?

There is something to be said, for a product that doesn’t try to be anything other than what it is. This film, like its protagonist Spider, simply flips you the bird and keeps on doing what it shouldn’t. I say lets go bowling for tits and ass, with a severed head, and see what happens next. No apologies needed for the lackluster production values and pedestrian dialogue delivered with less than Shakespearean flair. None are necessary because this little bastard doesn’t care about the things it doesn’t have, it revels in those it does. Momentary brilliance shining bright enough to light up my TV screen 20 years after it was released, speaks for itself. High minded ideals often make boring pieces of shit whereas low brow antics stand the test of time by simply flaunting what they have. It isn’t all great to be sure, but when it sings, it screams like a banshee bimbo brandishing a fat boys head.

This cinematic masterpiece clocks in at just about 80 minutes, never allowing you to get bored. It hits every cue and careens madly from gag to gag with a breakneck pace that maintains momentum through its over-the-top-performances. Quigley, Stevens, and Bauer give it everything they have and admirably deliver craptastic results that still resonate, making this one of the greatest bad movies ever made.

The films Director David DeCoteau, under various pseudonyms, has managed a long career, delivering a unique mix of off-the-wall titles. His work is slicker and better put together than a lot of his contemporaries. The man has finessed the schlock and it is probably that fact that keeps his work from being lost in the crowd. This one came out twenty years ago and still entertains with its mix of slapstick humor, timeless nudity, and one nasty little clay monster.