Director David DeCoteau is a gay man who, nevertheless, understands exactly what most heterosexual guys cruising trash movies want: Naked girls. We don’t need a reason. It doesn’t need to make sense. We flat-out don’t care. The more gratuitous, the better. It’s fine with us. We’re easy to figure out.
Thus, Nightmare Sisters, a film that brings together the three greatest scream queens of the 80s. I’m talkin’ Michelle Bauer, Linnea Quigley and Brinke Stevens. Three women who all figured out how to shed their clothes on camera but never lose their personality along the way. Women who could be funny while topless and hilarious while bottomless. They understand camp. It’s not weird for them. They are B-movie soldiers, full participants in the madness, and their audience bursts with genuine love for them, even as the decades pass. DeCoteau, who’s worked constantly with all three of them over the years on up to the present day, clearly makes them feel especially comfortable. They are the stars of this film.
The story: Three college-age nerd girls (our heroines, given some pretty impressive make-up jobs to make them look bad; I seriously didn’t recognize Linnea Quigley, wearing outrageous buckteeth, at first) decide to throw a party. Not a big party. All they want is three boys, one for each of them. They’re as horny as anyone else. Along the way, they play with a crystal ball that Brinke Stevens’s hoarder chick found at a flea market. Little do they know, it’s a gateway to other dimensions and a demon comes out, transforms the girls into total sexpots who also happen to be man-eating killers. They’re happy to give you a blowjob, but your chances of surviving the experience aren’t good.
It’s kind of a problem.
And this movie is all sorts of unhinged entertainment.