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Vampires on Bikini Beach (1988)
Starring Jennifer Badham, Todd Kaufman, Stephen
Mathews, Nancy Rogers & Amanda Hughes
Written & Directed by Mark Headley
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Hello, faithful BthroughZ readers. Yes, it's me, William Weird.
I'm baaaaaack. Did ya miss me? Nah, didn't think so.
Regardless here I am, returned from my prolonged vacation (had
some day-to-day personal issues on my plate for the last few months... I
hope ya didn't think I did love ya'll anymore). Damn, it feels good to
be back!
For those of you unfamiliar with my mad and morbid musings, let
me recap. You're currently reading "Mondo Cheapo: It Came From The
Bottom Of The Bargain Bin!" "Mondo Cheapo" is a monthly colum wherein I,
your humble horror host, taking you dumpster-diving for forgotten
freakshows of fucked-up filmic filth. You can find some pretty unusual
and interesting items collecting dust at yard sales, flea markets,
dollar stores, secondhand shops, and, yes, the bottom of the bargain
bin. In the past, I've been delighted to dissect such unloved oddities
as KUNG-FU ZOMBIE, NIGHTMARE WEEKEND, and CYBERNATOR (to name just a few
of the more memorable movies unearthed in my clearance rack spelunking
expeditions).
Trust me, freaks n' geeks, although I've been away from
BthroughZ for a few months now, I can assure you that, in all that time,
at no point did my voracious compulsion for crap cinema consumption
cease. I've amassed quite the arsenal of weird and wonderful D.V.D.'s
and V.H.S. tapes since last I haunted the intangible pages of this
whacked-out webzine, and I've been dying to share some of my discoveries
with you.
With that, I won't waste any more time in getting to the subject
of this month's review, except to make a quick note about a change to
Mondo Cheapo's rating format. Normally, when I write a review of a
movie, I end that review by giving what film may be under inspection a
grade based on a 5-point rating system, as well as recommending that you
either "buy it," "rent it," or "ignore it." For my "normal" review, I
will continue this system, but, starting with this article, to better
differentiate this column from the mass of other content I'm spitting
out into the internet ether, I'm going to start rating my Mondo Cheap
subjects in a different way. From now on, I will tell you how much I
paid for the movie in question... and then I will tell you what, based
on the movie's entertainment value, I think it's actually worth.
I think this is goin' to be a lot of fun. I hope you guys (and gals) stick around for the ride.
And, now, without further ado, I present to you today's macabre
mess of motion picture madness: VAMPIRES ON BIKINI BEACH.
...
Stop for a moment. Let that title soak into your sizzling,
burnt-out, barely functioning brain cells for a moment. Savor the
poetry.
Vampires.
On Bikini Beach.
Oh, sweet baby Jesus, this is gonna be awesome. With a title like that, awesomeness is practically a given. Right?
Okay, maybe not.
I have no idea where this movie came from. It's so bad,
awesomely bad, and so obscure ( I sure as shit have never heard of it),
that part of me is convinced that it's not actually of this Earth. I'll
bet you dollars to donuts that this sucker fell through some cosmic
portal (maybe a Jack Kirby boom tube?) from an alternate universe. The
universe from which VAMPIRES ON BIKINI BEACH comes is clearly one where
the nearest equivalents of CITIZEN KANE are things like THE EVIL DEAD
and THE LOST BOYS and flicks like HARD ROCK ZOMBIES, BEACH BLANKET
BINGO, BLOOD DINER, HARDBODIES, and HOLLYWOOD CHAINSAW HOOKERS are Oscar
contenders.
I dunno 'bout you fuckers, but this is the kind o' universe I wish my fat ass lived in.
The funniest thing, if you ask me if that, even in that unlikely
alternate universe... this flick would still be some seriously sucky
bottom-of-the-barrel tripe.
VAMPIRES ON BIKINI BEACH (which apparently made the rounds on
the old U.S.A. Up All Night show that helped shape me into the diseased
individual I am today) stars a bunch of nobodies, and was written and
directed by the same. Nobody #1 plays irritating twat Kim and Nobody #2
plays dumbshit dullard Bob. Kim and Bob are in looooove. The first time
we meet them, Kim is basking in her own sexiness and Bob is planning on
hittin' up some tasty waves with his surfboard. While Kim, Bob, and all
their friends are busy enjoying life, people in the area are apparently
dropping like flies, and the local conspiracy theorist tabloid is
convinced the recent deaths are the work of (::gasp:) vampires.
Did I mention Bob is in a band? Oh, yes. You betcher ass he is.
When night falls, Bob transforms from a mild-bannered surfboard-totin'
beach bum into a rockin', rollin', musical madman. When Bob's band hits
the stageat a local nightclub (which, this being the 80's, is
overwhelmingly littered with brightly colored neon lights), we are
treated to copious helpings of some of the most mediocre, generic 1980's
pop rock ever recorded.
We do, however, happily get to see that Bob's place in the band
is as keyboardist (hahahha, nobody likes the keyboardist... fucking
loser). Even better, the band's longhaired Steve Perry-lookin' lead
singer dressed in easily the worst wardrobe in the entire flick. And
that's counting the cliche' Halloween-style cape-and-formal-wear outfit
the sanguinary antagonist sports.
Oh, right. I almost forgot to tell you about him. The vampire
villain, Count Falto, is not played by Tommy Wisseau of THE ROOM, but I
wouldn't fault you for thinking otherwise. He's got the same oily Fabio
wanna-be d-bag hairdo, the same impenetrable accent, and the same
wholesale lack of acting talent. When not writing depressing goth poetry
and listening to Joy Division albums, Falto is wookin' pnub in all the
wrong places. See, for some reason, Falto cannot kiss a woman without
her dying. Maybe he's just that evil. Or maybe his breath just reeks
like shit. I guess 7000 years without flossing will do that.
Anyway, Falto just wants to get his dick wet, but with every
bitch he starts neckin' with biting the big one, it's a little rough. So
Falto has his henchmen (everybody has henchmen these days) kidnap women
so he can smooch 'em, in hopes that the next one will be the one who
can survive the touch of his demonic love. Or something.
Guy should try E-Harmony, if ya ask me.
At some point, Kim and Bob get jumped in an alleyway by Falto's
cronies, but manage to escape their unholy clutches. Or something. In
any case, Falto's cronies, being the useless numbskulls that they are,
accidentally leave behind an ancient tome, very rare and very valuable,
full of malevolent rites and incantations, once used by
demon-worshippers back in the Dark Ages.
Why did Falto's foot soldiers even have this damn thing on them?
Why wasn't it being kept in some secure location? Like, say, Falto's
lair. Maybe in a big locked box surrounded by undead guards. Anywhere
would do, really. Anything but just caring it around everywhere you go
would be a better idea.
Bah. Whatever.
As Bob and Kim begin to research the book's origins, more deaths
pile up around them, and creepy, supernatural occurrences sprout up in
their vicinity. One night, the book spontaneously bursts into flames.
Another night, a priest they contacted in hopes of helping them uncover
more about the book is found mysteriously dead.
Eventually, Bob and Kim learn that the book is key to Falto's
nefarious plot to resurrect an army of the dead and use it to take over
the world. This plan has nothing to do with Falto's quest for romance.
It's just something evil to do for evil's sake. Just what vampires do, I
guess. Anyway, now knowing that the fate of mankind rests in their
incompetent hands, Kim & Co. band together and, without even
considering the possibility to trying to get help or tell any
authorities, set off to slay Count Falto and his hellish hordes
themselves.
There are no scares to be found here whatsoever. That's not
exactly surprising, given what we're dealing with here. But I did find
it amusing that, in an attempt to balance out the dearth of dread, the
characters in the story spend many overlong dialogue scenes talking
about how scary the plot goings-on are. As if they would convince us in
the audience that any of this is even remotely spooky.
Unfortunately, there aren't any laughs to be had either. At least, not intentional ones.
Yes sir, where the real pleasure it derived here is in
unintentional humor. VAMPIRES ON BIKINI BEACH is an M.S.T.3.K. fan's
dream. A true riffer's delight. Besides being just generally shoddily
made is also poorly made and bland as an unseasoned bowl of plain white
rice. Blander than a glass of lukewarm tapwater. Blander than Brian
Gumble. However, it's perfectly prime for ridicule, absolutely aching to
be made fun. Some movies are bad and boring and just a complete waste
of time. Other movies lend themselves to being the butt of audience
jokes. VAMPIRES ON BIKINI BEACH is the latter, thanks in large part to
the inane stupidity of its writing, the earnest-but-awful performances
of its cast, a whole host of flogged-to-death clichés, and a group of
characters that are completely devoid of personality (except, that is,
for Harold, Bob's morbid-minded friend with the sweet fuckin' vintage
ride).
The directing and the visuals are not actually that bad
(although the overuse of long shots, paired with an underuse of
incidental music and total lack of excitement during action sequences,
makes the inexperience of VAMPIRES ON BIKINI BEACH's creators instantly
apparent) and there is a decent amount of nudity (including a
run-of-the-mill "romantic"-style love scene, complete with sappy soft
rock ballad, atmospheric red lighting, shitloads of candles, and
"sensual" naked caressing). Despite the title, and despite the story
taking place in Southern California, there's only a small amount of
screentime devoted to bikinis and beaches, sadly. But a trip to a local
bikini shop does provide us with a brief opportunity to ogle some fresh
young girly parts. For that much I am grateful.
Special effects are almost totally nonexist (the closest we get
is one of Falto's vampire henchmen sporting some prosthetic facial
appliances that aren't even worthy of some church-sponsored charity
Halloween haunted house attraction in Cuntfuck, Idaho) and during one
game-changing confrontation between the good guys and the bad guys, the
light unexpectedly and without explanation simply go out. The scene
isn't underlit. It's not lit at all. Best I can figure? The lights went
out and the filmmakers didn't even care enough to do a second take.
Awesome.
There's a lot of fun to be had here, if you're the kind of
viewer who likes to rent unwatchable shitballs, get together with a
rowdy group of pals, and just mercilessly tear movies apart with
insults. Seriously, this flick is just calling out for the ol'
M.S.T.3.K. treatment. I'd give my left nut to hear Mike Nelson or ol'
Joel Hodgson have a field day with this trainwreck.
Having said that, I have to admit... if you're not the kind of
viewer outlined above, if you're not someone who derives great
entertainment from other people's artistic failings, if you're not a big
believer in schaedenfraude and you're not a student of the Mystery
Science School Of Cinematic Travesties, then you'll definitely want to
pass up VAMPIRES ON BIKINI BEACH. Trust me. It's not for you. Honestly,
it's not really for anyone.
Outside of the potential M.S.T.3.K. riffing possibilities,
there's not a lot to recommend VAMPIRES ON BIKINI BEACH, outside of a
few really outlandish, but all too short-lived, indulgences, such as a
surprise cameo by Adolf Hitler, the droll, dopey downbeat ending, and
the scene in which our utwitting protagonists accidentally summon forth
the benevolent High Priest Of The Undead, who then helps them save the
day by fending off Falto and his right-hand man Demos (the
aforementioned lizard-brained lickspittle with the clunky prosthetic
face) with a glowing red crucifix of mystical origin (its either off
mystical origin or, more likely, he just duct-taped two fluorescent
light tubes together and told himself it looked cool).
Personally, I was disappointed by this flick. Granted, you
shouldn't expect a five-star classic going into this thing, but even a
half a star would've been sufficient. The biggest sin is that this
sanguinary suckfest just flat-out failed to live up to the
outlandishness of its title. What a great fuckin' title.
I didn't hate VAMPIRES ON BIKINI BEACH, but I don't ever need to
watch it again. Not ever. You can do whatever you want to do. Just
don't say I didn't warn you.
Until next slime...
Stay sick!
Your pickled pal,
William Weird.
what it cost: $0.99
what it's worth: $0.99
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william