Savage Streets (1984)

By the early 1980’s Linda Blair’s career had kind of hit the skids.

A former child model who would shoot to fame in William Friedkin’s horror classic The Exorcist, her sweet-faced innocence had long since faded, replaced instead by wanton drug abuse, high profile arrests, and a brief fling with womanising, crack tooting funkster, Rick James. She even posed for a raunchy spread in pornographic magazine Oui. Her days of wooing the mainstream with her cherub charms were well and truly behind her . . .

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Breeders (1986)

Breeders is like one of those old monster movies with a giant erection.

Another in a long line of exploitation flicks given the bluray treatment, it is the story of a giant fly who sets about raping a cast of airheaded delectables with the intention of expanding its species. Able to take the form of any human it comes into contact with, it seeks out virgin victims and impregnates them with a black, gooey substance, while using acid to burn them for reasons which are never quite explained…

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Pieces (1982)

B-movie slashers – once you’ve seen one, you’ve seen them all, right?

If you’re judging them in terms of originality, then yes, they are all very much the same – particularly those from the early part of the 1980s before censorship hysteria shackled the industry. In regards to technique, they are invariably cheap rip-offs of John Carpenter’s genre-defining Halloween, movies in which a masked killer stalks promiscuous teens through a series of heavily contrived set-pieces, while a perverted revelation draws ever nearer…

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Hollywood Chainsaw Hookers (1988)

I have to be honest; this is not what I was expecting at all.

On the surface it is everything you would imagine it to be. It is a movie about chainsaw wielding nutjobs masquerading as barfly hookers. It is grainy filters and sordid, neon-lit streets, a visual scattergun that would leave the likes of Tarantino creaming themselves as buckets of blood and viscera splash against sopping pairs of heaving bosoms. It is B-movie acting, porn star extras, and enough sleaze to leave you slick with delight…

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Basket Case (1982)

Basket Case is a gloriously depraved little effort that puts the majority of exploitation schlock to shame.

Cult Director Frank Henenlotter’s other notable works are just as smutty and bizarrely realised, and each film exhibits a surprising level of depth in spite of its paper thin characters, second rate acting and degradation of just about every marginalised member of modern society you can dare to imagine. Later efforts Brain Damage and Frankenhooker took a rusted scalpel to drug abuse and prostitution respectively, and with Basket Case that kind of slapdash social surgery takes on a far more literal form.

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