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Some films are made to be shown on the midnight-movie circuit. Other films can never be shown late enough. Consider, if you will,
Bitch Slap, a desperately unfunny attempt to satirically recycle cliches and archetypes from sexploitation action flicks of the 1960s and '70s within the time-trippy, multiple-flashback framework of a Quentin Tarantino extravaganza. Much like the lesser parodies that arrived near the very end of the mid-'60s spy-spoof cycle, this self-consciously campy farrago offers too little, too late, while tediously burlesquing movies that no one took seriously in the first place. You can read my complete Variety review
here -- though, really, I don't have a lot more to say about this time-waster.
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