There couldn't be more perfect MST3K fodder if Mike and the Bots directed it themselves. Lame and directionless plot, unapologetic and endless reuse of footage, molasses-in-January pacing, production values that would make Roger Corman wince, gratuitous sexuality from intensely unsexy women, ultra-doofy characters...oh yeah, and it's a SPECIAL INTEREST PICTURE ABOUT WOMEN'S WRESTLING IN THE FIFTIES.
Well, at least it starts that way. You will catch nary a glimpse of dull-witted, mammoth-chested "protagonist" (the movie doesn't really have one) wrestler Peaches in the closing act, as the screenplay (like a rambling, senile old man) has decided to focus its attention on the sleazy promoter and his downfall at the hands of a gangster scintillatingly named "Mr. Big." Thus, the film degenerates from campy fiftiesdom into grade-Z noir.
I bestow upon this picture the greatest of all honors--a 1 out of 10. Plenty of schlocky black-and-white pictures get compared to the illustrious Ed Wood's work--this is the rare one that actually merits the comparison. It's pure gold.
Well, at least it starts that way. You will catch nary a glimpse of dull-witted, mammoth-chested "protagonist" (the movie doesn't really have one) wrestler Peaches in the closing act, as the screenplay (like a rambling, senile old man) has decided to focus its attention on the sleazy promoter and his downfall at the hands of a gangster scintillatingly named "Mr. Big." Thus, the film degenerates from campy fiftiesdom into grade-Z noir.
I bestow upon this picture the greatest of all honors--a 1 out of 10. Plenty of schlocky black-and-white pictures get compared to the illustrious Ed Wood's work--this is the rare one that actually merits the comparison. It's pure gold.
