I don’t know a lot about the Philippines, but I’ll tell you what I learned about the country from a Philippino woman I worked with 7 or 8 years ago: their lives revolve around the US military bases established there, they roast dogs on a spit like a ghetto luau, nobody has any money and everybody hates Lou Diamond Phillips. Ah, our neighbors to… uhm… west? To learn more about this fascinating country, you can yank some knowledge from your local library, or just click this here link when you’re done with this review and feed your gray matter. Now, enough with the world studies lesson! This isn’t a place of education, it’s a place of cinemasochistic criticism! On with it!

Our opening scene introduces us to go-go cage dancer Claire, who we know is in for trouble when it’s revealed that a number of beautiful women in the area have been disappearing as of late. Whether it’s as the authorities fear and the ladies are the target of a Hong Kong white slave syndicate or the result of something more sinister (alien breeders, perhaps?), Claire is indeed to be the abductors’ latest target and is taken straight from her dressing room by cloaked figures! Shortly after, we’re introduced to another unlucky local gal named Laura who, after saying goodnight to her hilariously dressed boyfriend following an evening of rejecting his frequent wedding proposals, is also nabbed in the dead of night by the same kidnappers decked out in their chocolaty brown robes. She’s then led through the city’s sewer system (where the fucking rats apparently NEVER STOP SCREAMING) to a waiting canoe where she and Claire are then boated out to sea by the oversized Jawas.

Upon arrival to their destination in a Philippine jungle, our two distressed maidens meet two more distressed maidens named Bonnie and Anne. Despite the other girls’ trepidation on their ordeal, Claire attempts to calm them by declaring her excitement at the idea of being a sex slave, assuring them that there are a thousand worse ways to get through life than on your back underneath some fat rich guy… yeah, I’m pretty sure this is about to turn into one of them “thousand worse ways”, honey.

After an eight minute Miller Lite version of the Ho Chi Minh Trail march through the jungle, the heroines arrive at their new whore cave where they meet their new master Baru… who bears a disturbing resemblance to my former steakhouse boss, baby blue terry cloth bathrobe, mini white man jerry curl, giant gold chain and medallion, hairy chest hair and all. Creepy. The girls also meet Baru’s co-leader Ranu and their cult of equally brightly dressed followers who worship a big red ice cube with one of those three dimension faces carved inside of it with a laser. The blood cube’s name is Raul and he only shows up for a brief scene, so as to keep the special effects costs down. Ranu was actually Raul’s wife at the time of his death 500 years ago. She looks old, but not bad for being five centuries old… a concern that, as you can imagine by the title, will be addressed later on in our movie.

Back to the girls, Laura is pulled aside by Baru and told that she just happens to look exactly like a painting he made some years prior of a woman whose face he saw in a dream… except that Laura’s hair is a completely different color and style and her face is a slightly different shape than that of McGreasey’s little art project, but who am I to nitpick? Either way, Laura’s singled out for special treatment and offered a place amongst Baru and Ranu’s elite group of mirror owning, well groomed, pastel outfit wearing elitists. I wonder if they’ll also reveal to her the secret to their salon quality hairstyles and make-up happy faces despite living in the deepest wilds of the fucking jungle. Fish blood and monkey jizz perhaps?

That same night, Laura (who seems like she’s always strung out on something or another) is visited in her sleep by the haggard visage and talons of a decroded old lady who warns her that there is no escape from Raul’s hunger. Meanwhile, the rest of the gals seem to be adjusting rather well despite being kidnapped by a death cult of prancing Philippino jungle fairies. The only problems so far have been a few bad dreams, but they’ve slept rather well on their PLUSH BED SHEETS… This is the worst jungle death cult ever! They sit on rocks and don’t own footwear but they have decorative mirrors, exemplary salon service, cushy and ornate loafing outfits and PLUSH BED SHEETS?! They can’t decide whether they’re enjoying the fineries of life or trying to do the he-manly thing by roughing it! I wonder what the broads do for tampons…

Laura’s upset when her new pals introduce her to the savory secret of their eternal life: blood drained from a stable of human cattle in daily rituals! Of course the newest additions to their little pen of blood puppets are Claire, Bonnie and Anne, which cements Laura’s feelings that the whole thing is immoral and disgusting. Though initially upset with our heroine’s bad mouthing of their “alternative lifestyle”, Baru and Ranu are convinced that Laura’s mind will change once she’s forced to live with them and age while everybody else stays young and beautiful forever. Not ready to wait for that to happen, Laura acquires the help of the old hag who approached her prior and she helps Laura and her friends make their escape… which happens without any kind of drama, conflict or pursuit of any kind. Okay, that was easy.

After escaping through the natural dangers of the jungle, the quartet come upon a small shack and it’s family of inhabitants who take the lasses in and care for them while the proper authorities are contacted… and by “proper authorities”, I of course mean those death cult Eunuch guys. Yes, the people in the little hut are members of the cult. What a surprise. 30 minutes left in the movie and the girls didn’t successfully escape? By the festering severed hand of Ashley J. Williams, I never would have suspected!... Overblown sarcasms aside, Baru finds himself conflicted over falling in love with Laura and his dedication to a severed head is a red ice cube. When it’s discovered that the old woman who helped the gals escape in the first place has been ordered to her death by Ranu and her dick dismembered bald servant boys, Baru finally decides to jump sides and help the girls escape again, hopefully correct this time. While he’s off freeing the decaying blood bags so they can riot their way to vengeance, Claire and Laura have a cat fight over Claire’s insistence on staying in the cult and hopefully taking Laura’s place amongst the elitist vampire types, convinced that she’s too hot for words and that’ll be enough for the looney toons to induct her into their white collar, red lipped world. We never get the chance to find out if the cultists are really that shallow though, as Claire’s attempt to run and tattle on the escaping heroines ends with her falling into a pit and breaking her vital organs. Ouchie.

While the stampeding chick cattle pull a Bloodsucking Freaks on their eternally young masters (minus the infamous cock sandwich), Baru takes advantage of the distraction and escapes back into the wild with Laura, Bonnie and Anne. They’re not out of the woods yet though (literally!), as they must survive the dangers of the jungle, the posse of Eunuchs hot on their trail, and the rapid disintegration of Baru’s health (via some good old fashioned cheeseball transformation effects that we bad movie lovers giggle about so merrily) thanks to the absence of sweet sweet youth inducing gore! Geezer McOld eventually succumbs to his new senior citizen status, but before he can take full advantage of his age with the AARP discount card, the peckerless pursuers catch him and spear him (about the only kind of spear these guys are gonna be handling, *wink*wink*) through the man boob and the leader packs his big gold medallion into the junk satchel of his loincloth while the gal pal trio escape to a nearby road where a guy in a Jeep just happens to be driving through at the time of their emergence. It’s kinda like that convenient truck driver’s appearance at the end of the original Texas Chainsaw Massacre, only with more panicky broads and less chainsaw tango action.

When Laura comes back to the site of the festivities with the local authorities in tow, the very unpleasant chief of police declares the surrounding terrain to be too treacherous for his men to navigate and calls off any and all investigation into this mysterious vampire cult of jungle kidnappers, fucking lady justice in her crapper with a spiked rod of unfairness while Ranu and the remainder of her eternal girlfriends look on from their jungle telescope (!?) and laugh evilly. Wait a minute… so, this means the movie’s over? Alright, the movie’s over! Sweet! Hey everybody, you can untie your nooses, cuz it’s all over! Wahoo!

Now that that’s over with, I’d like to note that the box synopsis for this flick promises us that “this film is violent, full of nudity and a favorite of hardcore horror fans”. Sadly, The Thirsty Dead has little-to-no violence or nudity, nor can it in any way be construed as a “favorite” of any horror fans, hardcore, softcore, albacore or any stupid fucking grade of “core” you can come up with. It sucks. It sucks hard. It sucks long and hard until it tickles your asshole with a feather and begs you to drown it with your white rapids. It sucks so bad that after you bleach its insides, you pull out, slap it in the face, slam its face into the floor and choke it out with your foot until there’s no life left in it to go and tell all its friends about what you did with it, thus tarnishing your reputation forever. God I’d kill that bitch if I ever saw her again…

So, the movie. Yeah, it’s bad. Pretty bad. It’s kinda horrible. It’s not quite abominable, but it’s in no way ominable… whatever that means… if it means anything… The characters were all either shallow, needless or hyper-generic and if they weren’t bad enough, the actors playing them were. Weak, simple direction with some scenes running far longer than necessary and a story that drags in places instead of putting a little energy into expanding on the potential of others. Potential like boobies. We have a cast that’s 92% female and we get not a single nekkid teet. No vision in this man’s eyes… or in Alcatraz… can I see your “Oh my God”?... the music here is your standard “’70s jungle horror” fare that jumps from pseudo-tribal beats to haunted house sound effects tape side B and back again. No real gore beyond a little fake blood and the tease of flesh ripping without any actual pay-off. We don’t even get the odd afterglow effect from what a good shit feels like when we’re done with it. This one ends with sandpaper between your cheeks instead of Charmin.

Fuck it kids, it’s crap.