Naked and Nude Witch

Witchcraft IV: The Virgin Heart (1992) starts out with a short bit with 6’1” B-movie goddess Julie Strain, naked, showering, putting on her makeup, styling her hair and being spectacularly naked.

She’s prepping for her role as a stripper/singer Belladonna. FYI: Julie lets ’em out of the blouse bag again during her performance at a club called Coven. Apparently, she sold her soul to become a successful rock star. (The asking price about that of a TV dinner.)

There’s a warlock talking in an echo-y voice who owns Belladonna and makes her strip instead of sing. Most of the movie, though, is about someone looking for someone, blah, blah, blah. 

Julie has sexuals with him in a romantic freight elevator, which you only hear and not really see. (The sex, not the elevator.) That displeased me. The other irritation point is the plot almost has nothing to do with witchcraft, and plods along as a really complicated and boring murder mystery.

Forget the movie and just watch Julie doing that naked stuff in the intro. Like I’m doing right now. For the fifth time.

The Battle for Future Sex

In Battle Queen 2020 (2001), a low budget sci-fi boob-fest, a meteor turns earth’s atmosphere into shaved ice the survivors are relegated to two factions: those who live underground in the freezing sewer and eat garbage-licious snacks, and those who live above ground in heated cabanas having sex with girls who do such things in trade for not having to live where the stuff in your toilet goes once it’s flushed.

The staggeringly hot and tall Julie Strain (“I worked at Disneyland – I was one of the rides…”) plays Mistress, a “kept” woman who services the Elite (above-grounders). She runs a harem training school for the sexy below-grounders. When she’s not walking around topless, Julie struts the land in skimpy underwear thingies and takes post-apocalyptic bubble baths, making sure to moan and roll her eyes as the radiation-free hot water squirts all over her 6’1” majestic-ness.

There’s some sort of sub-plot about the Elites using the pituitary glands of the sub-dwellers for rejuvenation purposes, but none of that matters as JULIE WALKS AROUND TOPLESS AND HAS SEX ’n stuff.

In the end she joins the underground rebels, turning into a veritable “Mad Maxine,” using spinning heel kicks and judo chops to augment her combat lingerie.

Wow!

Blood Gnomes

A crime scene photographer catches footage of small, toothy creatures that are invisible to all but the camera’s eye. He can’t prove their existence to anyone, but continues to investigate more and more sex-all-the-way murders, each with bodies that were a short time ago doing whips, leather and the meaningful holding of hands.

He finds a fetish gal to help him understand what S&M is all about. (Sodas and Marshmallows – duh.) This plot device is important as it means a LOT of girls get naked.

Directed to a conveniently local S&M mistress is the key as she has a giant crate in her “dungeon” containing a toothy, tentacled thingamajig that, when fed blood, gives birth to the “blood gnomes.” A by-product of these births is a milky goo that she sells as X, a powerful drug that makes Ecstasy look like baby aspirin.

The gnomes are onto the photographer as he finally has photographic evidence, even instant-messaging him on his computer as to their demands. (I don’t know how they could type with those pointy claws, let alone find a store that would even sell a computer to a blood gnome.) When the S&M mistress kidnaps the photographer’s new girlfriend (the fetish gal) he has to rescue her. To not do so would totally be insensitive.

Shot on hand-held camera, Blood Gnome (2004) manages to rise above its budgetary limitations and actually has an attention-holding plot with some good back endery. Ahem. The grand display of bare boobies makes perfect sense when factored in with an S&M bondage mistress who owns a multi-tentacled creature in her garage.

Yeah, the blood gnomes look a little goofy and way too rubbery, but they get the job done. As do featured star Julie Strain’s monumental hood ornaments, which don’t look at all rubbery.