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Sunday, April 19, 2026

Blood Orgy of the Leather Girls (1988) (USA/Canada)

⭐️⭐️⭐️


The violence of mankind has led to the “wrath of the female”. So says an awkward detective in a trench coat, speaking directly to the camera and standing uncomfortably in front of a barren wall. He then warns us about the violent crime spree we’re about to witness perpetrated by teenage girls who definitely confused boredom for angst. The film is dedicated to Susan B. Anthony but one of the girls also salutes photos of Hitler she has on her wall so I’m gonna say she can go fuck herself… the Nazi, not Susan B. Anthony. Afterwards we get a sloppy introduction of the gals all spliced together by an unsure hand and not exactly sure what it wants to rebel against. I mean, the patriarchy is definitely an issue but it also feels like rebellion for the sake of rebellion which can be messy. But it’s not really an issue because the aura of rot corrupting the whole film is enhanced by how unfocused everything is. We’re introduced to various awful males (a teenage smut tycoon, a drunk driver, shouting bar patrons) as the girl gang drink, smoke and go to school. Eventually they wander around the streets, visiting violence upon idiots. The detective talks and a psychiatrist also joins in to warn us of the violence and danger of women. Not convincingly or anything but there’s no level of professionalism here at all… that may sound like an insult but I mean it in a good way. We’re not looking for professionalism here, we’re wallowing along with everyone in the nihilistic enthusiasm of this completely trashy bit of basement entertainment. Castration, flagellation, bowling ball destruction, genital trauma, run-over babies, man-napping, extended scenes of driving, ninja roulette, a power drill up the pooper, ear-straining audio and the definite possibility that everything was shot with a potato are some of the atrocities that await the viewer. It’s enjoyable if you’re good with what’s to be expected from the dumpster fire that is this particular cinematic void but it’s undeniably jarring and its welcome wears thin as it carries on.

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