Carl and Not Carl (haven’t you figured out by now I never remember the names of characters in movies?) are 2 delinquent assclowns who carouse around all day in a humongous convertible banging their girlfriends and generally carelessly acting on their every hedonistic desire. Carl is a complete dick. Like that guy who everyone hangs around with but nobody’s sure why… I suspect it’s because he owned the car. He’s a misogynist, a sadist and generally not that pleasant to anyone. To quote one of the chippys in the film: “Ow! Carl just burned me with his cigarette!” as Carl sits by the wayside laughing hysterically and everyone goes about their beach party business, including the aforementioned chippy.
Not Carl is more of a pushover in Carl’s eyes, being quite a bit less inclined to be a total dick and seemingly just wanting to hang with his girlfriend(s) and have typical 60s teenage fun. So when Carl decides it would be an awesome good time to kidnap a random girl and confine her to a room in the basement of an old warehouse to have their filthy way with her, Not Carl resists… for about 5 minutes. Now apparently when kidnapping a girl to be used as a sex toy, it’s imperative that as a perpetrator you ensure you have absolutely no connection whatsoever with said victim. Which is why it’s astounding that even though reiterating this point several times, Carl and Not Carl decide to kidnap this cute young thing that they were just introduced to while in the middle of buying drugs from (and subsequently soliciting for group sex) her old lady landlord. Yeah, no connection at all… good job guys. Anyway, “cute” blonde is kidnapped and confined and rape/misogyny ensues. Be sure to stick around for the epic boss battle at the end.
The Defilers is an excellent example of 60s trash cinema at its best… short(er) running time, cheap production, plenty of T&A and debauchery. It’s a good time waster, if nothing else. The girls are OK looking and get plenty naked, and the violence in the defilers is also pretty ample…. plenty of whippings and beatings for our young victim make the time here enjoyable.
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Duane co-founded The Church of Splatter-Day Saints in 2005. When not immersed in film he's enjoying good whiskey, smoking meat in the backyard or thinking about sluts. He makes a damn fine habanero fire sauce.