“Sex, guts, blood and all men are mothers!” – The Maneaters’ credo
I admit this was the one movie out of my H.G. Lewis collection that I wasn’t overly thrilled with popping into my DVD player. A biker film? That’s not really for me, not after Hellcats, anyway. But if anyone can bring this moribund genre to life, it’s Lewis. So, with a toothache, headache and on three hours of sleep, here is She-Devils on Wheels, now proudly 100 percent Ross Hagen free!
Watch out boys, they’ll chew your pud – they’re the Maneaters on Wheels! This gang has boozy, sex-crazed biker chicks in tight clothes a-go go, and when they line up on their hogs, the guys better have theirs lubed up and ready to ridden similarly. These girls apparently decide who they’ll be straddling at night by straddling their bikes and racing by day. The winner gets first pick of the local studs. From the start, and according to his MO, it’s clear that Lewis hired bikers to do the acting, not actors to do the biking. In this case, it works because these girls are authentically repulsive, with the exception of a couple who seemed like real actresses: Karen and Honey Pot, the latter whom we later see entertaining the stud line drenched in honey and chocolate. After an uneventful beginning, we’re treated to our first development 32 minutes in, and it’s worth the wait. Karen, who seems nice enough and has no problem showing off her butt in lime green hot pants, falls in love with Billy, one of the local bar studs. But loving anything but your hog is forbidden in this gang, and Queen, the alpha she-male of the gang, gives Karen an ultimatum: drag Billy to death behind her motorcycle or take his place. Karen opts to make some road kill rather than to become it. Seeing a bound and beaten Billy after his scrape is cool, but it’s actually augmented by Karen’s remorse for doing it.
But Lewis, perhaps operating in unfamiliar territory, fails to capitalize on this small victory. The movie ambles around for a while, before the story’s main conflict is revealed when a rival Stray Cats cover band, led by non-descript biker Joe-Boy (who looks like he was ripped straight from that Beastie Boys video “Sabotage”) moves in on the Maneaters’ turf. The ensuing fight is ripped right out of Hellcats with the Maneaters, on the strength of Queen and queen-sized amazon Whitey (she of the immortal line, “Go fumigate yourself, craphead!”) coming out on top. The one bright spot in all this bleak sex and aimless rebellion is Karen. She isn’t happy with her life as a cycle slut from hell, but she fears she’s in too deep to get out. Hey, if you were told to either ground the guy who just came inside you into hamburger or die, you’d be a little shy about putting in your two-week’s notice too.
As it turns out, Joe-Boy’s gang isn’t the pack of limp dicks we thought, because soon they grab one of the Maneaters and really fuck her world up before drop shipping her back to her sisters the next morning. The war is on. All right, you’ve probably figured out that I’m pretty bored at this point. But you know good ol’ H.G. wouldn’t let you go away disappointed. In a damn fine climax, the Maneaters tie a wire across the road about neck-high (wait for it, wait for it), taunt Joe-Boy to get him to give chase and (wait for it, wait for it) stand by in delight as the poor dope decapitates himself. I may have been bored, but I’d have to be comatose not to love the site of a severed head flying 20 feet into the air and hitting the ground with a smack. That was pretty much the end of the movie for me. Some other things were happening too, but I’m afraid they were swallowed up by the deliriously awesome severed head scene. Or, under the guise of not being lazy and wanting to wrap this up, I’ll just say that I don’t want to spoil the ending for you. There, choke on that, you bastards. I’ve seen the ending and you haven’t, so which one of us would know if the ending is worth writing about. Me, that’s who.
Obviously, She-Devils on Wheels was behind in the count before it even started because it was a biker movie. It was a Lewis project, which means, on one hand, it was probably going to be better than most biker movies. But that’s like saying Bad Boys II was going to be better than most Michael Bay movies because it has Henry Rollins in it. Sure, Henry Rollins kicks more ass than you or I can even begin to comprehend – in all seriousness, if I could nominate one person to be the next U.S. president, it would be Henry Rollins. But come on, it’s still a fucking Michael Bay movie. In the end, though, I can’t say that I was disappointed with this movie because I wasn’t expecting much at all, and this movie does have a few pretty cool sequences in it. Plus, this movie was Lewis’ most financially successful movie since Blood Feast, which is fine with me. It doesn’t matter how you cast your dollar votes for Lewis, just be sure you do it. Now, with this lukewarm movie out of the way, it’s time to wrap up this little six-pack experiment with the grandfuckingdaddy of them all, Gore Gore Girls. Get your nipple tassels on, get your milk glasses (one for white and chocolate) and don’t forget your meat tenderizer! Join me, won’t you?