Slasher’s Aren’t Very Knife

American Nightmare

There’s a razor blade slasher reducing the population of strippers in New York. What the heck, man? These ladies perform a vital service to society and you wanna kill them? Messed up, dude. This sets the sex and violence mood in 1983’s American Nightmare, a low-grade/low-rent slasher flick filmed in Toronto, home of Pothole Filler Imperial Stout™.

American Nightmare

So there she was, naked in a hotel room, about to close a business deal with a client, when the messed up dude pulled out a razor made for shaving, and cut her throat — and she didn’t even need a shave! Again, messed up.

American Nightmare

Earlier, Isabelle (the stripper-slash-hooker-slash-slasher victim) left messages for her brother to come save her from danger. (In New York, that could be anything from a serial killer to a dirty public toilet seat). He doesn’t know he’s way too late, and searches every strip joint in town. Gotta love his methodology; hope he brought a lot of small bills — to, um, buy information, of course.

American Nightmare

The guy (Eric) hooks (sorry) up with a dancer (Louise) and they both go on the empty-lead search. In-between all of this is LOTS of bold displays of the female anatomy set to music and an increasing bare body count. There’s even a sex scene that, back in 1983, was likely rated-X. By today’s standards and practices, it would only fetch a PG designation. But hey…ladies dancing without the muss and fuss of clothing. Like I said, a VITAL service.

American Nightmare

The killer in this gritty slasher flick gets it in the end. Okay, that didn’t come out right. Regardless, his identity came as no surprise. What IS a surprise was the transvestite hooker. A surprise to her clients, anyway. Ha!

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