New review! The Playbirds

Now then (now then, how’s about that). No beating around the bush here. Yes, I know what this film is. And yes, I did watch it. All the way through. I’m not proud of that. But to be honest, it has to be one of the most un-sexy things I’ve ever seen, despite the amount of female nudity on show.

Imagine, if you will, that someone decided to do a loose remake of Cover Girl Killer. But this time, EVERYONE’s a pervert! Hey, it was the 1970s. Jimmy Savile, Benny Hill, Hot Gossip “for the dads”. Legs and Co “for the dads”. Sally James on TISWAS “for the dads”. Leela on Doctor Who “for the…”, oh, you get the idea.

Then imagine they forgot to actually put a story in.

Then imagine that people (and by “people” I’m assuming we’re talking about shifty-looking men) actually paid to go and see it. In the cinema. Over and over again.

And finally, imagine that at some point in the early 2000s genre fans decided, against all good sense and taste, to classify said avalanche of poorly-conceived soft core nonsense as a British horror film (and for a change, purists, I had nothing to do with it).

Because now I’ve seen it, apart from a few (blood-free) murders and an ongoing plot point about some people trying to make a horror film, I can’t quite see the link.

But anyway, here it is.

Get your stained raincoat on and practice your phwooars, because it’s time for The Playbirds to bounce their way onto the site.