Nude Nuns with Big Guns

Before we begin, A statement: I both owe Joseph Guzman a debt of gratitude...and a punch in the groin.

While surfing around the interconnected web we call the internet, I stumbled across two things. One: The Cavalcade of Schlock website I'd left in other hands when I moved to New Mexico was now in such a state of disuse, it had actually gone offline for over a week and nobody noticed-and Two: I saw a low-budget sexploitation revenge flick called "Nude Nuns with Big Guns" on Netflix. When a higher power sends a notice as powerful as this, I get the message. After having seen NNWBG, I had to bring the Cavalcade website back, just to talk about it. So for that, Mr. Guzman, I thank you.

Before we get into the details, I'll go ahead and get this out of the way: Yes. The nuns are nude (as are every one of the other 23 women in the picture save three). Yes, two of them do in fact wield guns of the "big" variety. If there's one thing the film gets right, it's truth in advertising. Now to the story, such as there is:

Sister Sarah (Asun Ortega) embarks on a holy path of bloody vengeance (while nude) after being forced into the drug trade (while nude) and prostitution (while nude). Along the way, she rescues another nun (Aycil Yeltan who is also nude), who also happens to be her lover. Along the way she runs afoul of the ultra-rapey biker gang hired to provide muscle for the entire operation.

If imitation is the highest form of flattery, then Robert Rodriguez should be blushing like a school girl. It's as if the director of this picture watched the Mariachi series and said to himself, "You know what these films are missing? Rape. Lots of rape. I can fix that!" and proceeded to do so-only without the kinetic energy, style, or story-telling ability. We've got all the Rodriguez Mariachi tropes on display, down to the gun in the guitar case. Now, I'm not against a good homage here and there, especially considering that much of what Rodriguez does is a tribute to the Grindhouse films of the 70's (like, say...Grindhouse), but he throws in a fun twist here and there. Not so here.

Complaining about misogyny in a sexploitation flick is like jumping in a pool and complaining it's damp, but there are limits. Limits to which this film barrels straight past and then decides, "you know what? Watching this dude rape a woman for five minutes was so much fun the first time, let's do it again, only this time let's have him rape a nun for four minutes of screen time!" The worst bit about this is that there is so much rape in the picture that it has its own musical motif on the soundtrack...which is a ripoff of Cherry Darling's theme from Planet Terror, a movie who's primary theme was one of female empowerment. I am focusing on the rape because a good sexploitation flick (or even nunsploitation-it's a thing, really it is) manages to somehow both exploit the female form while empowering it (see any 70's picture with Pam Grier). Here, the only strong female is Sister Sarah, and even she spends most of the picture being victimized. Not only that, her Mission from God is mostly explained away as insanity brought on by overdose, so the script even undercuts her.

All told, this movie managed to disappoint on all levels. It had sex without excitement, violence without energy, and plodded along miserably from point to point. If you really want to screen this, I'd recommend large doses of tequila and pairing it up with I Spit on Your Grave or Evil Breed: Legend of Samhain for one hell of a miserable evening.

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