Playgirl Killer

We launch our story with the harpoon murder of a zaftig young lady, casually snuffed for failing to sit still while posing for the killer's artistic doodles. We're off to a good start. We next find our psychotic doodlebug in the employ of a well-to-do sexpot(we know she's a cheap little whore because her tits are hiked to her chin and she has the same on-screen saxophone leitmotif as "Ginger" from GILLIGAN'S ISLAND). Not surprisingly, she's killed as well, as is the next girl, and the next, etcetera...all for refusing to stay still while the killer is sketching them. The psychoanalytical diagnosis for the killer's insatiable lustmord is hilariously implausible, and thus keeps perfect step with the film's immersive kitch appeal.

PLAYGIRL KILLER is a jovially mean-spirited exercise in full-throttle sexism...a lovable paragon of 60s schlock splendor which could be regarded as Canada's answer to H. G. Lewis' iconic COLOR ME BLOOD RED(1965). The film's technical parts-and-parcels are expectedly less-than, though sparks of amateur enthusiasm are occasionally evident. A very young and doughy Neil Sedaka is on-hand for a trivial "star-power" guest spot, obviously inclusive of a brief musical repose.

A delectably gauche, consistently watchable flick with a good sense of humor about itself, PLAYGIRL KILLER is semi-essential vintage sleaze.

6/10.