Bambi's B-Movie Boutique: "Cheerleader Autopsy"

Cheerleader Autopsy (2003)

Okay…first of all: here's a memo to all you directors out there. If you're going to make a movie with cheerleaders in it, make sure they're at least moderately hot.

Second of all: if you're going to make a movie called "Cheerleader Autopsy," then you sure as hell better have a friggin' autopsy in it.

Before I begin, I need to remind my readers that I was a cheerleader back in high school (obviously). Oh, how I could do the backbends and the splits and the jumps…I was amazingly talented. Unfortunately, the other bitches on the squad were jealous of me because when we cheered, all eyes were on me. I was the star of the squad, and Pammy McKay, the head cheerleader, got all pissy because I was dating her so-called boyfriend, Bubba Hoolihan, the quarterback. I still don't know why she got so mad; it wasn't like he was the only guy I was doing at the time.

Anyway, my squad decided to kick me off after the Homecoming game during my senior year. I mean, come on…just because I forgot my underwear ONE TIME. They said I was too slutty to cheer (like that's ever stopped a cheerleader) and stripped me of my uniform. They were really mean about it too. So I bottled up all that pain and used it for my acting. Remember my role in "Cheer or Die"? The head cheerleader who ends up being the psycho killer who murders the whole football team and cheerleading squad? That was pure method acting. You guys know how seriously I take my craft. When I killed those cheerleaders, I really meant it. In real life, I got the squad back by doing all their boyfriends and making them fall in love with me, then dumping them and making them think it was because their peckers were too little.

But anyway, this movie…God almighty, was it bad. There's no sugar-coating it. It's just bad. There's kind of a plot, sorta. A group of five severely fugly cheerleaders (the Stinkwater Beavers—get it? Beavers?! Now that's some klassy komedy!) are killed (they apparently didn't grasp the idea of getting out of the road when a rogue school bus backs over them) and their bodies taken to a local funeral home. Of course, the mortician is a weird old guy (who, by the way, has had WAAAAY too much plastic surgery and eye liner tattooing for a guy in a small town; actually, he looks like that Jocelyn Wilderstein chick--Google her if you don't know who she is) who sells dead bodies to the local dog food factory (of course) and oh, yeah, by the way…he has some kind of magic beer that helps heal up injuries.

And then there's the janitor, a "Napoleon Dynamite" wannabe who likes to feel up the dead female corpses. Now that's just gross. Not the corpse thing…the Napoleon Dynamite thing. And the fact that we see his johnson...but more about that later.

So the cheerleaders are killed—apparently an out of control bus (going a whopping five miles an hour!) can make bodies explode on impact—and one of them is pregnant with twins (for some reason…I think it was just for the gross-out Caesarian section shot) and one of them isn't entirely dead and…I could go on, but I won't. I'll just get to the stuff you want to know about.

The boob ratio in this movie is surprisingly low, given the fact that it's a bunch of cheerleaders. They had an opportunity to flash five sets of nubile, teenage boobage, but only one of them gave up the goodies…and let me tell you, they were nothing to look at (but then again, I'm comparing them to mine). But if you like mosquito bites, you'll enjoy her performance. In fact, she has the best line in the movie: after losing both her legs at the knee and one arm (not to mention half her face), she wakes up on the autopsy table:

"Are my tits okay? And my perfect little ass?"

"Yes," the bumblefuck assistant mortician replies, "there's not a scratch on them."

"Oh, thank God! Thank God I'm still sexy!"

Okay, newsflash, hon…you're kinda not. And like the other cheerleaders of questionable attractiveness, you never were. I know hot cheerleaders. I WAS a hot cheerleader. And you, sweetie…you're not.

The gore factor in this movie was pretty lame, too. The fake dead bodies of the cheerleaders looked like sex dolls you'd find in a $.99 store. But there was one halfway decent effect, I will say. Of course, all you guys out there will cringe and close your eyes, but the scene where the Janitor hacks off his little mushroom cap and sews on a more John Holmsian pecker was surprisingly realistic. And they even show the scene twice, just in case you didn't catch it all the first time. Thank God they don't show the Frankendick after surgery. I don't think I could have stomached that.

Overall, this is the kind of movie you get when you've got a buck-fifty to spend on a budget. I've worked on movies like that before, so I know it's a tough gig, but come on…if you're going to have a sucky plot, at least have the courtesy to throw in enough boobs and blood to make up for it.

Do yourselves a favor and dig up my classics, "Cheer or Die" or even "Bloody Pom Poms" instead of this cheapo stinkfest.

Hugz!