Anyway, a luchadore is a Mexican wrestler, and the luchadore in question here is Samson... whose actual name is Santo, though I can't figure out why the American release company felt the need to change his name... Samson/Santo was an actual wrestler in Mexico and a HUGE favorite at that! Think of him as the Mexican "hey day" equivalent of Hulk Hogan: beloved by children, idolized by men and lusted after by the ladies. There's a strong tradition in the luchadore circle revolving around the concealing of their identities behind full head masks. Though the tradition has 'laxed some over the years, Santo was one of those guys who was die hard in his faith of the profession of dressing in tight underwear and rolling around with other scantilly-clad adult men on a canvas mat. Whenever in public, Santo never removed his mask, ever. He was obsessive-compulsive to the Nth power and a role model to would-be quitters everywhere! As with American wrestlers like Terry "Hulk Hogan" Bolea, "Rowdy" Roddy Piper and Duane "The Rock" Johnson, it's no surprise that Santo made many a movie, nor is it a surprise that not one of these movies will ever be on a serious movie critic's "Top 100" list... maybe "Top 1000", but that depends on how much Scotch you can get down Roger Ebert's bloated booze hole. Yes, Santo's conquered many a villain in his celluloid days, mostly rehashes of your common monster movie cronies, like Dracula, Frankenstein, the Wolf Man and armies of anonymous zombies and alien marauders. Even I have a hard time taking any of them in a serious manor, not that they're not entertaining mind you, they're just better left to the hands of the "Mystery Science Theater 3000"... which would put him in the same boat as Joe Don Baker, and for that, I apologize a million times over the spirit of Santo in the hopes he won't stop my ass when I get back to the Underworld. You get that guy wasted on enough speed balls and not even Andre The Giant's safe...

Our movie opens with the reawakening of a 200 year-old vampire lesbian cult, back from their cozy tomb to resurrect their fanged queen Thorina and take over the world. Until Thorina and the rest of the scaly faced feminist hags can be given new life though, high priestess Tundra (she must be one cold bitch... :::solo cricket chirping:::) and her troupe of musclebound, oiled up, vampire man slaves in capes are given the strength to carry out their plans of overthrowing the destructive patriarchal human society... pending approval of their plan by Satan's shadow... Bad Movie Tip #17B-412: when your budget can't support things like makeup for your mutants, lycanthropes or the Prince Of Darkness, go with the ever trusty silhouette. Anubis Note #17B-412: this does not work. And so, just like that, Tundra's pealing vampire masque is magically scraped away to reveal a fair skinned and fairly fuckable young lady beneath it and the adventure begins. Step 2 to this master plan? Well, after Tundra and her boys pick up some fresh blood to resurrect Thorina and the other suck sisters, they've got to capture young Diana Orlof, the ancestor of some broad named Rebecca who eluded the vampires' plans to make her the successor to Thorina's vampire queen heritage 200 years prior and, uhm, I think led to their whole 2 century hibernation... As you can guess, it's now Diana's place to take over the rule of the undead feminist movement, as noted by the birthmark on her shoulder shaped like a big Halloween vampire bat decoration... so much for curse symbols or dark runes... I wonder what that birthmark on her ass shaped like Abe Lincoln means...

I don't understand what a mortal woman has to do with taking over the vampire throne (besides a really lame tattoo), but it's Mexican, so I'll chalk it up to "cultural boundaries" and continue on. Diana's dad, Professor Orlof, is fully knowledgeable of the dark fate awaiting the fruit of his shriveled loins, as deciphered from some "ancient" scrolls the prof. found in a family burial site or in a Happy Meal or hidden in his stack of porn mags... I don't know where he got it, but he's got it and I wouldn't really call 200 years as "ancient", nor do I think there were still a lot of scrolls being passed around in the 1700s, especially with books being all the rage and so forth... Anyway, knowing his daughter's fate is creeping closer with the arrival of her 21st birthday, Professor O gives his pal, the silver masked dynamo of heroism, smasher of evil, lord of the squared circle and superhero to all: Santo! Errr, I mean, Samson (though the voice track for the crowds is never changed, so they still chant "Santo!" anyway)!... well, actually, he has to leave a message on Samson's Interocitor (wonder if the vamps have a Metaluna Mutant on the payroll...), as the king of the luchalibre suicide dive-fest is occupied elsewhere with more pressing matters... like wrasslin"! Yep, Samson be kicking some lumpy ass in the main event at MSG (Mexico Square Garden)! Tonight the masked avenger is busy in a tag match as he and his partner The Black Shadow battle the forces of evil, represented here by the dastardly duo of Rob Mendoza (the John Smith of Mexico) and a mister "Caveman Wellington". That name reminds me of that "Freekazoid" villain Caveguy, who was a big blue Neanderthal complete with leopard print loincloth and caveman club, but spoke with a snobbish accent and had the "high society" mannerisms to back it up... which has nothing to do with this movie, I just wanna crack "Caveman Wellington" over the head with a frozen tuna for having such a ridiculously "only in cheesy '60s wrestling" kind of name.

With the Mexicans we don't just get a movie, but we get a bonus wrestling match! That's correct, as the director decided it would be a good draw for wrestling fan dinero to show the match between the four in it's entirety... talk about padding a movie, this scene is the director's equivalent to the sock he stuffs down the front of his shorts for his "interviews" with the female stars! It's so gratuitous, it reminds me of the old days back in my suite at the asylum! The match lasts for a good 10 minutes! And when I say "good", I don't mean that it's actually entertaining to watch, because it's not! If I wanted to watch professional wrestling, I'd get out my copy of Strangle-Mania and do it right! YOWCH! Ack, better relax, damn shock therapy's starting to kick in. So, after this 10 minute orgy of grown men in spandex rolling around, slapping each others' meaty chests and hip tossing each other (and themselves) about, we're returned to our actual story, where Tundra and her caped wrestler hench-boys have targeted a young couple on their way to their car from a nightclub in downtown Mexico (hey, if you want specific cities, look for a map, I'm not a friggin' atlas you prick). Tundra leaps into the fray, JUDO CHOPPING the woman (!!!) Bond style while her thugs advance on the male escort and beat meat on a would-be helpful doorman. The priestess takes her stomach full from the woman and they escape back into the shadows with the man as their captive. Hmmmmm, being dragged off into the darkness by a gang of greased up Mexican guys in capes... Nope, I'm absolutely, 100% positive that I'm glad I'm NOT that guy!

The following morning, with the autopsy of the girl, the police discover two strange blue (?!) perforation marks on her supple neck and not a drop of blood in her body. When they joke about it being a vampire attack, one cop speaks up that he actually witnessed the attack and he's sure it really WAS done by vampires! He's of course dragged from the room, put on detention for a week and laughed at by everyone else in the room... As for the victim, her death is officially labeled "an attack by a species of animal no one has ever seen before and thus cannot be classified" and the case is closed... damn, those fucking Mexican police are even lazier than all those Speedy Gonzalez 'toons led me to believe! At least American law officers would've been a little more creative and said something like, "victim of ritualistic cult sacrifice" or "officers acted in self defense"... well, if they were the LAPD. So, MPD (Mexico Police Department) and their non-stop occupational siesta aside, back at the vampire women empowerment camp, the kidnapped suitor (who kinda looks like Eric Idle's non-union Mexican cousin Senor Pepe Idle) has been tied up and torn up at the throat, his liquid life gathered in a goblet for a vamp fems' feedin' frenzy. The plasmatic Slim-Fast™ feast ends with the ladies of the night all losing their scabby makeup jobs and tattered potato sack robes in favor of milky soft skin and flowing white gowns. Yes, if you drink blood, not only will it make you immortal and clean up your complexion, but it will also lead to a complete wardrobe change! Becoming a vampire just gets more and more tempting... And Thorina gets a shiny tiara and scepter too! What the fuck is she, Miss Teen Mexican Nosferatu 1962?!

After this demonic transformation (and some reassurance from the Devil's shadow puppet), Tundra and her thugs head out to kidnap Diana for the heiremony ceremony, but are foiled by the religious fortitude of Professor Orlof (A.K.A. Mexican Vincent Price) and the last minute arrival of the mighty Samson!... who insists on wearing his mask, tights, boots and sparkling cape outside of the ring as well as inside... wonder if he ever gets hassled by Korean-Mexican grocers for that "no shirt, no service" policy... Anyway, good triumphs and evil heads off with their tails between their legs, leaving the heroes a brief time out to bad mouth the evils of man and nuclear power before it's back to the absurdity. The Prof says that his translation of his family scrolls has revealed a prophecy of a man, more specifically a man in a silver-colored mask, who will intervene to save Diana... damn, they sure didn't skip on the details back in the 1700s, did they? Samson, being the beacon of morality he is, accepts the bodyguard gig despite knowing it puts his life (and more importantly his career!) on the line, because it's his heritage to smash bad guys wherever they may lurk! As for the monsters, Tundra and one of her goons mug a couple on their way to Diana's birthday masquerade party, stealing their invitations and crashing Diana's 21st blow out waltz-a-thon. Boy, them Mexican rich people sure know how to toss a shindig...

Turning out the lights, the villains cause a panic and make off with Diana in tow. However, who should pull up in his convertible but Samson, vanquisher of villainy!... and STILL in his wrasslin' digs! With some badly choreographed moves that he learned to dominate the ring with, Samson instead dominates the baddies, taking out three very beefy bags of trash, then hopping back into his car and zooming off triumphant!? Huh, I guess he had something important to take care of, like cutting the ribbon at a new Jiffy-Lube™ or hosting the Cable Ace Awards... "Wow, Jiffy-Lube!". Then again, maybe he just hates giving police statements, especially considering the whole thing with the mask. I doubt too many cops let people make official statements in silver masks, but given the recent displays by the MPD, it wouldn't shock me if they did... Back at vamp HQ, Satan proves he's just like Candyman: all you need to do is say his name (or make a broad reference to him like, "he who is the lord of shadowed misery and 'reality television'") and he just pops up!... well, his shadow. In this case, he doesn't even say anything, his shadow simply becomes illuminated in the background and the vampires look to him, like they're waiting for him to say something profound! Meanwhile, I bet he was probably in one of those "me time" moments and taking a relaxing dump on his flaming toilet and didn't even realize he'd been summoned, as there's this awkward moment when nothing happens and the actresses just look over their shoulders and look at the silhouette for a second...

Sick of Tundra's incompetence, Thorina gives her right hand bitch one last chance to kidnap Diana, because if she fails this time, it will be too late to successfully enact the ritual and they're all fucked... I'd love the chance to show them what what it really means to be "fucked"... Speaking of Diana, she's out 'clubbin' with her fiance Jorge ("George" for the American dub) under police surveillance as they await Tundra's next move. As for the hero, Samson's back to his latest main event, in a grappling duel for 3 falls with the deadly Black Mask (no, too early for Jet Li kids, go back to sleep), who's revealed some 8 minutes (gah! The padding is start to close in on me like that time I watched Night Ripper!) or so into the match to be one of Tundra's fanged boytoys. No surprise since wrestlers' move arsenals usually consist of more than karate chops and hip-tosses. Even Hulk Hogan at least had the big leg drop... It's sad, as the night before this match Samson was bumpin' three of these goons around at once, while tonight he's getting his ass handed to him in Taco Bell™ bag with a side of avocado dip! Guess he's no match for vampire karate. Whatever the cause for his beatdown, Samson turns the tables and unmasks the fill-in, exposing his tangled facial hair (he's got the worst case of mask hair this side of the Ultimo Dragon!) to the world, causing the creature to riot through the crowd and the police, then turn into a bat and flee. I can't help but think the MPD would have better luck with their guns if they'd spring for better bullets. The ones they're using now don't seem to want to penetrate the flesh of the guys they shoot...

Back at the nightclub, it turns out that though most vampires don't cast a reflection, Mexican vampires do, as shown in Diana's compact. Not only that, but it's their true reflections to boot (i.e. the scaly make-up), which tips off Diana and her escorts to the presence of long-toothed evil. With their cover, well, uncovered, the broads close in and take their target, stuffing Diana into a taxi and leaving many a cop with bad headaches. Samson then appears just in time to be too late, turning his chick magnet mobile around and heading after the evil-doers. On a side note, in addition to the reflection thing it's also revealed that these south-of-the-border bloodsuckers are also incredibly weak against crosses, which translates into: they just look at a cross and they completely combust! These schmucks wouldn't last a DAY in the Bible Belt! I have enough trouble myself, and I don't even have the whole "Christian Combustibility" problem! Back at the Orlof homestead, the professor has used the scrolls to unveil the location of the vampires' tomb and contacts our hero via Samson-O-Vision™, catching him on his car video-phone version, in which the camera is apparently mounted in place of his hood ornament... Maybe this is actually "The Real World: Samson" and cameras follow Samson around constantly to find out what happens when wrestling superheroes stop living in the ring and start being real! I bet it'd be better than "Tough Enough", not that that would be hard to accomplish.

The hero becomes the damsel now though, as the vampire goon squad jump Samson and capture him, a scene which would've been greatly improved had the bad guys been carrying steel chairs! Heh heh, steel chairs can make any movie better, even Demonicus. Tied down and repeatedly blasted with hokey looking karate chops, it looks like Samson has no way of getting out of this predicament. Even worse, the fiends are attempting to take off Samson's mask! Who is it behind that silver colored mask?! Could it be Diana's beau Jorge? Perhaps Professor Orlof? Diana herself? Brutus "the Barber" Beefcake?! Lex Luger?! Skeet Ulrich AND Jake Busey?!?!... wait, I meant Matthew Lillard... honest mistake... Either way, we don't get to find out who the masked man is because the sun comes up and enters a window, flooding the room and setting Samson's captors on fire, allowing him the chance to escape. Grabbing a torch, Samson then races into the basement, setting every last feminist in the place on the path to painful death! Eh, what's Samson care, women don't watch wrestling anyway. So, once more the day is saved, thanx to the mighty Samson, the power of the luchadore, the vampires' lack of proper shutter for their windows and their glaring inability to tell time. For Samson's sake, I hope the next batch of bloodsuckers he runs into don't have any digital clocks on their walls...

Though the movie is a far cry from anything inspiring, impressive or highly entertaining, Samson Vs. The Vampire Women is, if nothing else, charming. It's not nearly bad enough to be in league with The Robot Vs. The Aztec Mummy, as it's cheesiness is far more fun than the aforementioned septic blockage. Masked wrestlers going kung-fu on the undead is always great to watch, I just hope next time there isn't so much damn padding (i.e. no more wrestling matches). Call me crazy, but watching these flicks takes me back to my childhood... despite the fact that I never watched any of these movies in my childhood, nor did I have a childhood to begin with, being the God of Death and all... Anyway, good fun for those in the mood, great fun for aspiring "MST3K"ers, but not even within a good 40 miles of being anything better. Sure, the idea of a crime fighting wrestler who battles evil when he's not battling in the ring may sound retarded to some, but it's no stupider than "Diagnosis: Murder" or "Baywatch Nights"...