Seen as 'Strippers Vs Zombies' - which its plot line it really more is - but then also known as here 'Zombies, Zombies, Zombies' - but which, it really isn't, since, with very few zombies to justify its thrice repetition titling.
And certainly for its budget, this could have been a typical cheap, soon forgettable time waster - but in developing, it does then offer up a few watchable for aspects to reward your time, not least in worth adding to your viewing completion of the genre, especially as to how 'all' those 'Zombies, Zombies, Zombies' (yes, thrice over) are finally dispatched with! So, rest (dead!) assured, not because it is good: 'coz, it certainly isn't! But because for a debut effort (of director J. Murphy) gets an 'A' ( or is that 'Z' ) for effort as those relatively few zombies here are initially well presented - although in a 'clip' - but eventually, the budget constraints, ah, 'creep' in, in not only how their death defeat scenes are rendered, but also that towards the end, the few zombies (zombies, zombies) in the rear are minimally (if at all) made up, but just lurching about.
And so then, of the, er, 'titular strippers' (at least of its alternative titling), too: each babe* here flash their no doubt scripted / contracted requisite mammaries - statuesque Stephanie Miller especially here notable in this respect with her "Doesn't get more real than these" fulsome (pierced, too!) pair proved so when they are thrust to the viewer just afore that rather unique way of dispatch, which the scriptwriters here have introduced playing on individual human sacrifice for the good of the greater - if sleazy - community good: Although by which thus means to include in those who survive, a thoroughly reprehensible (coincidentally, black!) character named 'Back hand' because of his constant threats so to do - backhand slap, that is - his 'ladies' (=, um: ho's!): but others, too, as on which there's some fun to be had here, too, as he and that eventually sacrificial hero, now white guy jostle for alpha (supremacy!) position, but which means it is, for a change, unusually - (plot spoiler coming warning alert) - then said black character that survives! (thereby, neat contrast on Romero's original Night Of the Living Dead **) Indeed, on which, then do stay for - or, rather, tolerate to! - a mid-closing credits add on sequence that is quite revoltingly misogynistic that those edifying scriptwriters have also added in.
For, if the previous had not been played for at least bemusement this would be nastily insulting - if only to Kystal Davis (playing expectant babe,* Lu-Ann) for having to play it, having already been impregnated by him (*'My babe's having a babe'!!), her pimp, to which he then assesses his feelings to the effect that now he knows (she's pregnant), he'd better "work her overtime" before she gets to show too much to affect her earnings potential for him. Mere low budget laughs - or out and out misogyny? As an earlier monologue delivered by 'Dakota' riffs on, well, why not sell ya ('God given' booty shake) body delights 'if guys are dumb enough to wanna pay for' that and provide her with a better living than would her studies in a 40 hour week work: which is surely (patriarchal) fair enough reasoning, there, by those scriptwriters, huh? To the end point where you could wonder if the two mid end credits John guys (as uncredited) who one enthusiastically, the other nonchalantly, acquiesce to then, ah, utilise, the now zombiefied Lou-Ann, could well be the writers themselves cameoing (so let's credit 'em at last: i.e. a one Anthony Giordano plus a Z. Kennedy for the story) = whatever, a thoroughly appalling implication! Since, presumably many of the extras were friends (contributors, whatever) to the production, you can also have more fun with enjoying the excruciatingly poorly timed delivered lines e.g. like as soon as Pandora banters with 'first bar patron / Hercules' (Brad Tremoroli as with multiple crew help credits, too), especially!
And so to that genre adding denouement: the aforesaid dispatch method is worth catching to add to your knowledge of the genre (like all the ways vampires can be done away with) as in so doing, the zombies' (ah, all zombies, zombies) demise begin to betray the no doubt budget limitations with some, in effect, great, poor CGI: prior to that, other zombies (all of those 'Zombies, Zombies') are dispatched with in amusing stunt prop destruction cameos, including the great one 'featured' (coz it's on the box cover pix) stiletto in the head zombie!
Thus despite its somewhat reprehensible misogynistic (possibly even borderline racist?!) undertones, nevertheless, overall, still enjoyably for its sheer ineptness!
** who gets his homage nod in having the clip ice skating rink named after him. And just in passing: so who would allow a toddler to watch a zombie film - and a 3D 'come out of the screen at ya', type, too - on her own, then only part through it, put her down to sleep?! Possible parenting skills presented there, too, no doubt, courtesy those clever story makers G&K, again!
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