Lewis was considered the Godfather of Gore and creator of the splatter film long before the 1972 film The Gore Gore Girls, but this X-rated entry into his cannon is one of the squirmiest. Already well known for nudie-cuties like Goldilocks and the Three Bares (1963) [the first nudist musical!], Lewis went on to invent the drive-in splatter flick with Blood Feast (also 1963). By the time of The Gore Gore Girls, a mishmash of softcore nudity and uber-low budget, gratuitous gore, the genre had been stretched to its near breaking point, at least by Lewis. This film marked his semi-swan song, only returning to directing in 2002 with a straight-to-video sequel to Blood Feast.
The Gore Gore Girls, then, is essentially a parody of his own newly-minted gore genre, and its wry, self-referential humor is its greatest asset. Following a pretentious and seemingly obsessive compulsive detective (long before Monk) through a series of murder investigations, the film moves from one wiggly-dance session (all tasseled-tame) to a murder-by-something ridiculous (meat tenderizer to the bum, face full of hot oil, several things that can’t be mentioned in public, etc.) to our ‘hero’ making a quick and wildly inappropriate quip. Repeat.
The Gore Gore Girls ain’t a good movie, folks, but you gotta love it’s awareness of itself. If half of our contemporary bad movies were this light-hearted, the world would be a much better (and certainly more fun) place.
While this may be the closest anyone has come to adapting the killings of American Psycho (the book), The Gore Gore Girls is far from dark and drab. You’ll squirm, you’ll laugh, and you might turn it off half-way, but you definitely won’t be bored.
Britta R. Moline 10/22/11