“Well, that was Sally. She was my girl. Sort of.”

Drake’s rating: Brought to you by Black + Decker

Drake’s review: I teased you all by mentioning this flick in my Submerged review, so far be it from me to let a trashterpiece like Hollywood Chainsaw Hookers slip into obscurity by failing to have an entry here at Mutant Reviewers. And while this might astonish some, this is not a good movie. It’s a surprise, I know, that something called “Hollywood Chainsaw Hookers” is not Citizen Kane. Heck, it’s not even that Brian Bosworth classic Stone Cold!

That certainly shouldn’t be a shock, however, considering that Fred Olen Ray’s movies generally had shooting schedules measured in days, not weeks, and budgets in the tens of thousands. That kind of movie-making comes at a price, and of course forces severe limitations on the quality of the finished work. The shots might be a bit rough, the dialogue will probably sound hokey since there was no time for a script polish and you’ll likely have to make do with whatever lighting exists at a given location.

But then you’ll stick the movie with a title like Hollywood Chainsaw Hookers and none of that will matter, since it’s going to fly off the shelves of every mom & pop video rental store in the country. Because, let’s face it, a title like that is going to draw in the curious browser, the gorehound looking for his next fix, plus anyone who wants to see a naked Michelle Bauer swinging around a chainsaw with abandon. Which she does, with a look of such sadistic glee that even Leatherface himself would be impressed. And probably just a bit frightened.

Speaking of the original chainsaw-wielding maniac, Gunnar Hansen himself is on hand in this flick as the mysterious head of an ancient cult who worship chainsaws. Which is strange, since motorized chainsaws have only been in use since 1926, but this movie is not going to let anything like logic or common sense get in the way. No, it’s going to go full-bore exploitation flick and give us over-exaggerated carnage and Linnea Quigley doing the “dance of the double chainsaws.”

Linnea also has a chainsaw duel with Michelle Bauer, and if that hasn’t convinced you to watch this movie yet, I’m not sure what will.

If you’re coming for any other reason, like a plot, you’re kind of wasting your time. The main story is about a private detective (Jay Richardson, Alienator) looking for a missing girl named Samantha (Quigley). He finds her, but she’s already mixed up with the aforementioned chainsaw cult which is currently terrorizing Hollywood as police keep finding bags of body parts. That’s pretty much it. Cue chainsaw massacres and a hidden cult temple (with a series of hand-printed signs pointing its way) and that’s Hollywood Chainsaw Hookers, a movie that certainly tries to live up to its title.

Ostensibly a horror/comedy, there’s really not much horror here. The chainsaw sequences are so overdone as to be ludicrous rather than horrifying, with bright red fake blood and latex body parts flying everywhere. As for the comedy, it’s humorous at times due to the overall absurdity, but not really funny. Jay Richardson does do a suitable voice over narration and both Quigley and Bauer seem to have fun with their parts, so that keeps the movie fairly light.

“Light” being a relative term in a movie about a chainsaw cult, of course.

Honestly, Hollywood Chainsaw Hookers is a fairly bulletproof movie. If you want to see it then you’re going to, no matter what anyone says. If you’ve already seen it then, regardless of your opinion about it, you’re likely to remember it. Discussions about whether it’s good or not are immaterial since this is a flick about ‘80s scream queens running around with chainsaws. If that concept draws you in, then you’re probably going to have fun with this one. If not, then you’ve already skipped right on by and are in the classics aisle right now, eyeing Citizen Kane.

I’ll warn you, though, that there are exactly zero chainsaw-wielding scream queens in that one. I really don’t know what Orson Welles was thinking.

Intermission!

• Linnea Quigley and Michelle Bauer squeezed this one around the same time they were doing Sorority Babes in the Slimeball Bowl-O-Rama, another low-budget ‘80s classic. It was just that kind of a decade.
• Stuck way down in the credits is Portland, Oregon’s own Gary Graver. Graver was a cinematographer and director who did some early work for exploitation regular Al Adamson before going on to work with Roger Corman, Ron Howard, and Orson Welles. No, seriously, he really did. He then bounced around, working in television and on more low-budget features (including quite a few for Fred Olen Ray) while also directing scads of adult films. I’ll no doubt review some of the former films, and exactly zero of the latter. I’m still trying to work myself out of the Mutant Basement after all.
• Over the last few years Fred Olen Ray has written and directed a shocking number of Christmas-themed films, none of which seem to feature bikinis, chainsaws, or scream queens. This fact has kind of broken my brain. Still, another recent feature of his is Piranha Women, so Ray’s penchant for schlock is still alive and kicking!