How can one adequately (or accurately) rate a film such as Cycle Vixens? Here is a film that defies all film-making conventions: at least 50% of this brief story is taken up with roadside shots of signposts--and fingers pointing at signposts. Filled with more visual and verbal non sequiturs than you might think possible in 71 minutes, Cycle Vixens is both one of the worst films ever made, and one of the most compelling. One minute our heroic girls are tooling down the highway with the country-rock Cruisin' Down the Road blasting out of the soundtrack like a wayward outtake from Sweethearts of the Rodeo. Next minute they've been waylaid by a couple of seriously strung out junkies who somehow manage to tie up our clean-cut motorcycle mamas for a little roadside rape. Then the girls are back on their bikes, none the worse for wear. Cruisin' Down the Road is back in full force (the song plays an incredible FIVE TIMES during the course of the film) and Those Fingers are back to pointing at Those Roadsigns. Other reviews have mentioned the jaw dropping finale, which is truly remarkable and must be seen cold to be appreciated. Simitar's tape does seem to be cut--how else to explain some of the narrative lapses?--and kindly bleeps out all naughty words besides 'hell'. However, the good folks at Simitar had no trouble exposing us to frequent dissertations on the pleasures of getting high, not to mention that final scene...I guess heroin abuse is okay, but the word 'ass' is beyond the pale. I'll be first in line for the DVD.

Spunky Sheila, her equally perky sister Sherry, and their sheltered virginal pal Priss are a trio of bored thrill-seekers from Colorado who decide to embark on a cross country motorcycle trip to the California coast. During their eventful pilgrimage Priss gets raped, our trio have two of their bikes stolen, and they encounter a colorful assortment of folks on the side of the road such as a sassy fat black mama, a pervy cop, a sinister dope pusher and his hophead girlfriend, and even some sleazy peeping tom in a pick-up truck with a skull and crossbones painted on the side.

Directors John Arnoldy and Peter Perry Jr. keep the enjoyable episodic narrative zipping along at a snappy pace, astutely capture a delightfully breezy'n'easy carefree vibe (you'll have a hard time getting the jaunty country theme song "Cruisin' Down the Road" out of your head),and sprinkle in a satisfying smattering of tasty bare female skin for extra good trashy measure. Granted, Loraine Ferris, Daphne Lawrence, and Deborah Marcus may not be the most capable of actresses, but they nonetheless make for very attractive, appealing, and animated protagonists just the same. Ron Garcia's sunny cinematography offers a wealth of picturesque visuals. The surprise bummer ending packs a startling nihilistic punch. A real vintage 70's grindhouse cinema blast.

OK, there are those likely to pan this movie as intolerable and unwatchable. I'd like to point out that they've probably seen it on VHS released as "Cycle Vixens" (the original title was the more poignant "Young Cycle Girls".) In that case they are to be excused. The poor editing (I suspect the dub comes off of late night TV) ruins the true beauty of this film. No film demands the unedited, seen-at-a-drive-in experience quite like this one. Three young beauties living in suburban hell decide to throw caution to the wind and ride their cycles to California (beaches, boys and beer!). En route they encounter peeping toms - whom the girls at first happily grant a free look, then berate the dirty pervert (something they may regret later),corrupt cops, and junkie rapists. On the lighter side, they do have a blast at a 70's version of a water park, rock out to station 108 with groovy pot smoking teens, and have a laugh riot with Jerome and his morbidly obese girl. All the while the girls grow, both internally and externally. Although heartbreaking to watch them living in the cold, emotionally dead households they come from, you too shall be liberated with them as they open up like butterflies emerging from the cocoon while "cruisin down the road". The only reason to continue living for america's youth seems to be a glimpse of the pacific ocean, and these girls carry on their shoulders the hopes of America's 70's youth culture with great courage. Do they get to the promised land (or ocean)? Why do they regret mocking hulking semi-retarded perverts? Who is "cool Jinx" and is he really cool? I would tell you, but these are things you simply need to experience for yourself. If all you can find is the horrific, heavily edited VHS "Cycle Vixens", well you should watch it, but realize you're only catching the tip of the iceberg.