Every week, I scour Netflix for a movie rated at one star and put it in my queue, suffering through it for your entertainment so that you don’t have to. In the past, I’ve taken on anime cancer demons, softcore Iraq War porn and racist ventriloquism, and this week, it’s the most disappointing title-to-content ratio ever.
Bad Girls From Mars (1990)
Starring: Nudity and depression in pretty much equal measure.
During the six years I worked at a comic book store, one of the things we had that never even moved an inch from its place on the shelf was an artifact of the early ’90s called Brinke of Eternity. According to the cover — which in typical ’90s fashion was sealed in a plastic clamshell with a collector’s item cassette tape — Brinke of Eternity was a comic featuring Brinke Stevens, and during the many, many times when I got bored, I’d often find myself wondering just who in the hell Brinke Stevens actually was.
I never ended up buying the comic to find out, as my boss had stuck the extremely optimistic price tag of $10 on it, and even with my love of novelty cassettes, that was a bit on the high side. When her name showed up during my weekly search for a one-star movie, however, I finally got up the gumption to check her out on Wikipedia. As it turns out, Stevens is one of the more notably scream queens from the ’80s and ’90s, but she also speaks four languages, holds a masters in marine biology and was kicked out of the Scripps Institute for Oceanography after she performed, and I quote, “forbidden experiments” on dolphins.
Sexy girl genius? Forbidden experiments? A dolphin sidekick potentially voiced by Gary Busey? Now that sounds like an awesome movie. Unfortunately, the movie I ended up with this week only went after one of those things, and really, it couldn’t even get “sexy girls” quite right.
Bad Girls From Mars isn’t actually about bad girls from mars. Instead, in a plot that prompted a friend of mine to say it sounded like Bowfinger done right, it’s a movie about the making of a fictional movie called Bad Girls From Mars, which makes it a low-budget skin flick about a low-budget skin flick. It’s like if Roger Corman made a mobius strip.
What sets the fictional Bad Girls apart from the real Bad Girls, though, is that it’s plagued by the fact that the leading ladies keep getting murdered. Despite this fact, Myra the wardrobe girl (Brinke Stevens) really wants to take the role herself, which means that within the first ten minutes, the murderer has been sussed out, but as plot isn’t really the primary concern here, I’m not really counting that as a problem.
Instead of promoting Brinke to the role of Lead Topless Martian Bad Girl, the producers of the film decide to bring in the infamous European madame Emmanuelle, who is played by Edy Williams in what I think is meant to be an “homage” to the long-running series of French erotic and/or sci-fi movies. Thus, the mysterious killer harasses Emmanuelle and a bunch of people have boring sex where the only real point of interest is how anyone in the late ’80s thought their hair looked good.