Ben Bussey with a fairly exclusive early look at Jason Paul Collum’s documentary on the three female superstars of straight to video B-movies.
The 1980s: arguably the era of film history that is closest to the heart of contemporary horror fandom. The genre enjoyed unprecedented mainstream success with all the great slasher franchises reigning supreme at the box office; but that’s a story we’ve all heard, and certainly not the only 80s horror success story that deserves to be told. Jason Paul Collum’s affectionate and hugely entertaining documentary takes us into a world less widely discussed but every bit as beloved by die-hard horror fans: the world of straight-to-video B-flicks, of filmmakers like Fred Olen Ray and David DeCoteau, and films like Hollywood Chainsaw Hookers and Sorority Babes at the Slimeball Bowl-O-Rama. And, as the title might suggest, it is above all else the story of their leading ladies: the original scream queens Brinke Stevens, Michelle Bauer and Linnea Quigley.
Beginning with an overview of how the direct-to-video market came to be, rising almost phoenix-like from the ashes of the drive-in, director Collum then introduces us to the stars of the show and lets them each tell their story of how they came to the industry. If you’re hoping for some sensationalist Hollywood Babylon tell-all oozing with anecdotes of behind the scenes drama and debauchery, think again; if there are such tales to be told, they’re not told here. Nor, despite the ‘rise and fall’ suffix, is this quite what you’d call a rags-to-riches saga. Rather, Screaming in High Heels is a simple, respectful account of the essentials on how Quigley, Bauer and Stevens came to dominate their field, united by a solid work ethic, a love of the job, and a willingness to do the things that a lot of mainstream actresses wouldn’t; including, but not limited to, spending a high percentage of their screentime butt nekkid.
It’s truly fascinating to see how these three women came to the same place from such diverse backgrounds, Stevens having been a science student, Bauer a young wife and Penthouse model, and Quigley (unbelievably) a pathologically shy adolescent. In spite of the glaring weirdness of the films and the roles they were invariably cast in, all three come off as very level-headed and down to earth people when reminiscing on their heyday. Notably, not one of them has an unkind word to say about their profession, their co-workers or their industry, and never do we get the impression they were in any way coerced, manipulated or exploited. Nor do the men of the story – Olen Ray, DeCoteau et al – come off as the kind of sleazy, lecherous conmen that exploitation filmmakers are so often assumed to be. The impression we get is that all concerned were having a blast every step of the way. This is not to say the downsides of the job are not touched upon, however; we do hear of how B-movie status essentially prevented all and sundry from progressing to A-movie work, and how the negative associations of the scream queen label (in particular how it is so often unfairly equated with ‘porn star’) have affected the ladies personally. Hearing the now semi-retired Bauer profess to keep her old line of work a secret in her daily life due to the social stigmas attached, one can’t help but feel a little choked.
Is this necessarily the most impartial, unbiased look at the 80s B-movie era we could have? As if it really needs to be said, the answer there is an obvious no. Collum, who pops up as an interview subject himself in the film, is an avowed fan of his subjects and their work. There is no mistaking this love from the sheer amount of archive footage Collum fills the documentary with, from film clips to TV interviews (unsurprisingly, Joe Bob Briggs pops up more than once), to footage of Quigley accepting a Best B-movie Actress award and hosting MTV coverage of a Fangoria convention. There’s even a still of Stevens (who had her own comic book, the awesomely titled Brinke of Destruction) meeting Ronald Reagan. All of this demonstrates that, while the mainstream may have forgotten them today, Stevens, Bauer and Quigley were most definitely known at the time. And as Fred Olen Ray rightly notes, the actresses and their work were very much a product of the era, and as such the vibe of those movies cannot quite be recaptured now, no matter how hard the new (psuedo?) grindhouse we’ve seen in recent years has tried.
Whether any of this will resonate with the unititiated is open to question. I myself would not claim to be an expert on this area of film history, but even so there are moments in Screaming in High Heels when I was uncertain as to whether I would have been able to follow it without that small level of pre-existing knowledge. On top of this, it doesn’t seem too likely that anyone not already enamoured with B-cinema will find much to persuade them here. Neither Collum nor any of his subjects are interested in forming an argument for the ‘importance’ of these films, beyond their emphasis on the level of professionalism involved on all levels; after all, there’s a lot to be said for casts and crews who can shoot an entire movie in less than a week, and come out with something coherent and entertaining at the end of it. The actresses and filmmakers alike do not seem to take the work they have done all that seriously, but there is no question that they gave it their all, and it is heartwarming to see them looking back on those golden years with such fondness.
Screaming in High Heels: The Rise & Fall of the Scream Queen Era is currently doing the rounds on the US festival circuit. Look out for details of a DVD release and TV screenings in early 2012.