Legend has it — at least within the realm of Surrender Cinema/Full Moon’s ultra-cheap skin flicks — that deep in the wild exists a strange yet voluptuous creature named Shandra: The Jungle Girl, who kills men by pleasuring them to death. Naturally, some scheming, slimy millionaire-type with the devious name of Travis Fox (David Christensen, The Mangler 2) wants to capture her and sell her to the highest bidder.
Fox recruits a couple of scientists (or rather, softcore porn actors decked in white lab coats) and the token tubby Hispanic, Diego (John Lopez, Mutant Species), to accompany him into the jungle, played here by a largely barren field in Southern California, complete with man-made rock walls. (Likewise, in the movie’s opening jungle montage, one shot is of a parrot who’s clearly at a zoo, what with the concrete sidewalk and barbed wire visible in the background.)
The team finds and snares the mute Shandra (Lisa Throw, aka Neena Quiroz, I Like to Play Games Too), but only after they speak this three-line exchange twice: “Hear that?” “Sounds like a dream girl, doc. She’s close.”
Shandra feeds on her prey by sneaking up for a kiss on the lips before moving on to more carnal activities. The men falling victim to her wiles fully cooperate, whereas I wouldn’t be able to get past the vaginal-hygiene issue. Call me old-fashioned. (Speaking of victims, the first guy to go says shortly beforehand, “No sign of the creature described to us by the Amazonians. In fact, other than a gaggle of squirrel monkeys above my campsite, there’s been no contact with any life at all.”)
After examining “the jungle bitch,” the scientists determine she has the ability to implant footage from previous Full Moon films into the minds of whoever she touches. That’s really quite a gift … to pad out the running time, of course, because director Cybil Richards (Femalien) had to have something beyond grammar-be-damned dialogue (“Doctor, you have did the test to determine Shandra’s actual age?”) and unsexy simulated sex. And, hey, who knew feral women were afforded the benefits of underwire support? —Rod Lott
Part of what has allowed Alfred Hitchcock’s 
It’s also not without a multitude of problems, leading one to wonder things like:
Here’s a textbook example of a true exploitation film: an on-the-cheap word of warning on any given “social ill” (in this case, racism) that engages in the very subject it claims to decry. The opening three minutes of 
Together, they hold hands, laugh hysterically at nothing, express their love in voice-over and have lots of unprotected sex. They don’t have conversations per se; they speak in despair-drenched soliloquies so serious, you’d think they’re aching to set them to iambic pentameter.
Charles Band’s attempt to cash in on the 
Thus, Paul does battle with the following: