When three curvaceous babes, stripper Trixe, business executive Hel, and the feisty ex-con Camero, arrive at a desert hideaway to steal a stash of diamonds from an underworld kingpin, things quickly spiral out of control. Allegiances are switched, truths are revealed, criminals are unmasked and nothing is quite what it seems as the fate of the world is precariously balanced among this trio of sexy femmes fatales. Written by
Anonymous
The desert scenes where the majority of the locations were shot appear to be hot and arid, when in fact filming was done in mid and late March when it was still winter and the temperate during the day seldom rose above 60 F degrees in the sun, with wind chills making the outdoor temperature even lower. The cast, including the three female leads, spent most of the time between takes literally shivering under heavy winter coats that the wardrobe department brought along for just that. See more »
Goofs
While Kinki is "playing" with Trixie, Camero and Hel are digging, and they dig for a while before their shovels hit metal and they find the hatch. However, there's no hole - the hatch appears to have no more than a sprinkle of sand on it. See more »
Quotes
Trixie:
Why are you dogging on me all the time?
Camero:
Coz you're a slapper: a woman whose only purpose is to serve men and get their dicks hard!
Trixie:
I don't serve men! I serve myself. I do what I do to gain power and control to be considered sexually desirable. I'm the one using them.
Hel:
She's right, Camero, she can make men do whatever she wants with nothing more than just a glance or a well timed bend over. It's her gift.
Trixie:
Darn tootin!
See more »
Crazy Credits
"The characters displayed in this photoplay are fictitious. No really... It's all just make believe! Any similarity between our story and the classic and timeless works of William Shakespeare is purely coincidental." See more »
High
Written by George Jason Jones, Brian Scott Ginsberg, A. Dean Andrews, Clint Frederick Campbell,
and Kenny Buford Harrelson
Performed by AM Conspiracy See more »
Bitchslap is a preposterously over-the-top homage to decades old B-movie exploitation, a man's dream-world chock full of slender, tanned women with double-D's. Naturally, when a group of these voluptuous women get together their actions eventually fall back into lesbian sex scenes, homoerotic groping, playful wrestling, and nonstop pillow fights. Or, in this case, a desert scene in which three hot, sweaty women douse each other with buckets of cold water. Extra cold water.
Somewhere in there is a plot involving millions in diamonds hidden like pirate booty, a shady gangster in a banana-hammock, a sexy female spy from the James Bond mold, and...it doesn't really matter does it? This movie doesn't take itself too seriously or deviate from what it actually is. When each woman initially appears on film, it's all long legs, flowing wind-blown hair, and slow-mo cleavage shots. There were times when the ratio of jiggling flesh to shredded fabric was mind-boggling. In addition, the amount of foul language, guns, explosions, and fighting is nearly a parody of a male fantasy. Nearly. The pinnacle is perhaps the most epic of all cat-fights, a seemingly endless battle to the death between two supermodels in skimpy clothing, a war that makes the classic backstreet brawl in They Live look like patty-cakes.
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Bitchslap is a preposterously over-the-top homage to decades old B-movie exploitation, a man's dream-world chock full of slender, tanned women with double-D's. Naturally, when a group of these voluptuous women get together their actions eventually fall back into lesbian sex scenes, homoerotic groping, playful wrestling, and nonstop pillow fights. Or, in this case, a desert scene in which three hot, sweaty women douse each other with buckets of cold water. Extra cold water.
Somewhere in there is a plot involving millions in diamonds hidden like pirate booty, a shady gangster in a banana-hammock, a sexy female spy from the James Bond mold, and...it doesn't really matter does it? This movie doesn't take itself too seriously or deviate from what it actually is. When each woman initially appears on film, it's all long legs, flowing wind-blown hair, and slow-mo cleavage shots. There were times when the ratio of jiggling flesh to shredded fabric was mind-boggling. In addition, the amount of foul language, guns, explosions, and fighting is nearly a parody of a male fantasy. Nearly. The pinnacle is perhaps the most epic of all cat-fights, a seemingly endless battle to the death between two supermodels in skimpy clothing, a war that makes the classic backstreet brawl in They Live look like patty-cakes.