College Coeds vs Zombie Housewives

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When a doctor’s experiments into giving women a stronger libido go wrong, a trio of zombified housewives are released into the world where they come up against a trio of college coeds. Oh, and there’s also a lot of poorly presented pretend sex; yeah, this is a soft core porn flick.

I was kind of surprised when my girlfriend came across this at three in the morning. Not because they were showing simulated sex on television mind you, I was fourteen once, so I remember watching soft core porn at three in the morning, usually at someone else’s house because cable was something only rich people had when I was young, rich people or those that didn’t mind risking the original cinematic pirate, a Black Box. No, I was surprised because they don’t normally show a lot of zombie porn on television, you usually have to look pretty hard to find that since we like to keep our porn to ourselves, thank you very much. It makes sense for a zombie to watch zombie porn, when you’re dead you don’t get to be very picky anyways, but when a living human looks it up, that’s just weird, weird and gross, it’s wross. When the walking rotting corpse tells you’re being wross, you’re probably being wross (yes, I’m over using the word I just made up, but it’s not every day you get to make up a new word, so have some sympathy for a poor zombie). That was my shock, that our porn had become so mainstream they were showing it on Cinemax, that the living had become so bored with their xvidoes and their Pornhub, which I’ve of course only heard of and know nothing about, they were turning to watching dead people hump. Luckily, this isn’t even close to zombie porn since it’s just women in trances so I guess our porn is still safe, not so lucky, I watched it.

Our journey into an adolescent’s idea of sex begins with a scientist, Gary, trying to perfect a drug that will increase a woman’s libido, all because his wife doesn’t ever seem to be in the mood. The truth is actually that she’s humping his best friend, but instead of our oblivious scientist sitting down to discuss things with his wife in an attempt to rekindle their romance, he makes the perfectly logical decision to work on something with which to drug her. A breakthrough occurs when his lab assistant Marilyn (played by porn icon and former government hopeful Mary Carey) discovers the right combination to turn any woman into a sexual maniac, or at least that’s what she tells him so he’ll have sex with her in their lab, which you may recognize as a place that’s most likely terrible for sex unless getting odd chemicals into uncomfortable places is a turn on. Marilyn just felt bad for Gary and thought he could use a pity lay, but because Gary is a terrible person who faults others for infidelity while not seeing the fault in banging his lab assistant as long as she’s drugged, he doesn’t bother trying to find any of this out, he just runs home with his lady Viagra (his words, not mine) and slips the substance into the drinks of both his wife and his wife’s good friend. In the real world, we call this trying to roofy someone and it’s generally frowned upon by anyone who isn’t a total scumbag or a member of a fraternity, but in the fake porn world, it’s par the course because when it doesn’t work, Gary doesn’t stop to consider how rapey he’s becoming, he’s just bummed his roofy cocktail didn’t cause an immediate threesome. What Gary doesn’t know is that while his formula didn’t create sex slaves, it did begin a process that turns the victims into violent zombies, and by violent zombies I mean really slow people with a kind of vacant look in their eyes that can be subdued with a pool noodle (yes, this actually happens). Lucky for anyone that’s incapable of any movement what so ever, a trio of cheerleaders just moved in across the street from Gary, and if Buffy the Vampire Slayer taught me anything other than no one but me finds it creepy when a hundred and fifty-year-old vampire has sex with a sixteen-year-old girl, it’s that cheerleaders can kick all the ass when properly motivated by pervy vampires and zombified housewives.

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vs.

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{For some reason, I’m not entirely convinced these women are zombies}

Okay, so it’s not like I really expected much from this skin flick. While I was away on a trip, my girlfriend recorded it for me thinking it was just a cheesy zombie movie, so something right up my ally; we didn’t notice what it actually was until a bit later. I’d never watched any human made zombie porn, so I figured why the hell not. The closest I’d come (damnit, the nature of this review makes me feel dirty every time I write that word) was seeing a rather enthusiastic nude model doing some odd things to the top half of an animatronic corpse, or at least I pray it was animatronic because that woman looked way too happy humping the thing’s chest. Not that it matters much, the half-corpse humping model was doing a better a job pretending to have sex than anyone in a soft core porn movie ever has. Now, I went to a Baptist Christian school whose only lessons in sex were a half hour class entitled “Don’t Do It” where they sat us down and spent thirty minutes telling us not to have sex because it made god cry, but I like to think I’ve got a decent grasp of how it works regardless. Something about twisting your key at a thirty-degree angle, depressing the pedal, and revving the engine right? I’m kidding, of course I know you turn the key at a forty-degree angle, but that’s not my point. My point is, well, you’ve seen soft core porn, I don’t think I need to go into the messy inaccuracies and medical anomalies that make it so ridiculous to watch after age fourteen, seventeen if you went to Liberty Baptist. Unless my anatomy is really odd and everyone is just being nice by not letting me know that most human male genitalia is located on the stomach with a smaller sub-fiddlestick (I’m using medical terms here) on the thigh. I guess that’s possible, and if that’s the case, you all have my thanks for not making me feel weird. That would go a long way towards explaining why these damn things keep getting made in an age when typing “woman” into any search engine will bring up no less than thirty-four different porn sites (where did you think Rule 34 came from).

I know I promised to review this flick, but how does one review a movie that’s eighty percent sex and one hundred percent terrible? It’s an hour and twenty minutes, an hour of which is badly acted out sex with people who look like they’re enjoying it only because the director told them he’d shoot them if they didn’t. Every time one of them was humping, whether it was the cheerleaders surprising any guest that came to their house with sex, the impromptu laboratory loving, or the roofied wives club, all I could think about was all those times I’ve had to smile around people I couldn’t stand because that’s exactly how my faced looked, just with slightly fewer forced orgasms, slightly fewer. I could attempt to find meaning in the sexual silliness, like maybe that scene where the wife found out her husband was cheating on her and only another woman’s stomach (judging by the placement of her head) could heal her broken heart was a commentary on the fickle nature of love and America’s dependence on, oh I don’t know, stuff? America does like its stuff right? I could also just ramble a bit in the hope that you’ll forget I was making an attempt to review sex in a movie that doesn’t seem to know anything about sex, but I would never do that. How about them {insert favorite sports team here}? I hear they had a great season, had to trade {insert favorite player that got traded here}. Damn shame I tell you, damn shame.

So with the sex cut out, that leaves me with only twenty minutes of a movie to review. That should be easy. I just have to talk about…well damn, I don’t know what to say about that either. I’d tell you that the story is an incoherent mess, but I’m sure you would have figured that out by the type of film anyways. The days of porn with a story are long gone (thanks internet, now I’ll never know what happened to the pizza delivery man and the woman with no money) so it’s not like anyone was sitting down expecting the next Saving Private Ryan. I could talk about the poor effects, but what else does a person expect when most of a film’s budget goes towards baby oil and shaving cream? Then again, they don’t really have much in the way of effects considering nothing really “zombie” happens in the entire movie. They’re just drugged women in a trance that don’t have any energy, so I’m not sure how they were supposed to be threatening. I might be more upset about this fact but for two reasons, it being a soft core porn and the fact that no one during the planning stage thought about their plot. I can see the conversation now:

“I’ve got this great idea for a movie. This really smart scientist is going to drug his wife, his wife’s friend, and a coworker so he can have sex with them, but it’s going to backfire on him. We’ll call it College Coeds vs. Zombie Housewives.”

“Wait, he’s going to drug them? Isn’t that like, kind of rapey?”

“Okay, fine, he’s going to drug his wife so he can bang her, his wife’s friend my mistake, and his coworker takes it willingly.”

“That’s still pretty rapey. Also, where did the coworker come from? Didn’t you say it was about housewives?”

“Hmm, yeah…cocaine?”

“Cocaine.”

Or copious amounts of good old Appalachia moonshine. I’m assuming cocaine, but moonshine probably would have done the trick as well. I know I’m reading way too much into what is essentially a fourteen-year-old boy’s wet dream given cinematic life (hopefully without the rapey parts), but it seemed odd that no one thought maybe they should adjust their plot a wee bit to avoid this. Then again, that would mean taking a break from the cocaine and/or moonshine, and we wouldn’t want that.

If I had to find a positive light for this thing, it would be that the poster is kind of cool, but that’s it. I’d like to give you my sincere thanks dear reader for allowing me to give meaning to the time I wasted watching the poor (and very twisted) masturbatory fantasy that is College Coeds vs. Zombie Housewives with this kind of, sort of review. Now if you’ll excuse me, I feel like I need a shower.

 

The Undead Review

 

Directed By: Dean McKendrick (All Babe Network, Bikini Avengers)

Starring: Frankie Dell (Invisible Centerfolds, Atomic Hotel Erotica), Erika Jordan (Bikini Adventures, Sexy Warriors), Mary Carey (Pervert!, Bosom Buddies 6), and Christine Nguyen (Bikini Jones and the Temple of Eros, Ghost in a Teeny Bikini)

Written By: Cocaine

Release By: Cocaine and Moonshine

Release Year: 2015

Release Type: Depends on How Old You Are

MPAA Rating: Not Rated

About The Undead Review

When I was alive I was an asshole and after I died remained pretty much the same, if not a little worse. You’d think becoming a member of the walking dead would mellow a person out, no more worrying about awkward small talk with people, no more having to be politically correct, and the entire world is your upright, bipedal buffet. Don’t get me wrong, it’s fun as hell to be a zombie, just somewhat irritating at times, especially those times you have to watch a lame movie or read a lame book. Thankfully, when I am forced to watch these films or read those books, I’ve got places like The Undead Review to bitch and moan to my heart’s content. {When he’s not devouring the living or sinking his teeth into a good film The Undead Review (Andy Taylor) spends his time writing his own stories or hunting down the paranormal. Oh, and did we mention his blind dog once saved the world?)
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