Sextette is the cruelest motion picture I’ve seen, both to its leading lady and to its audience, neither of whom come away unscathed. In retrospect, the entire movie feels like a pre-cursor to Bobcat Goldthwait’s Windy City Heat, in which the victim is a poor, deluded old woman too feeble to understand how foolish she is being made to seem. It’s a massive assault on our collective dignity that could have been avoided if only one person at the time had the balls to speak the plain truth.
Based on a play she wrote decades earlier, the legendary Mae West portrays Marlo Manners, the world’s most celebrated movie star, who has famously married every man she slept with. Her latest hubby is a pre-007 Timothy Dalton, who has taken her to a very prestigious hotel to celebrate their honeymoon. Before they can consummate their marriage, the two are constantly interrupted by terrible musical numbers (including one with Alice Cooper!) and a legion of Marlo’s ex-husbands, all of whom are desperate to have her back.
Looking at least two decades older than her 84 years, neither West, her castmates nor the filmmakers ever acknowledge the absurdity of the film’s premise, which only makes it that much more pathetic and sad. It also doesn’t help that the thought of she and Dalton actually fucking is so repellent, the viewer cannot help but get anxious every time they embrace — making the film scarier and more tension-provoking than any horror movie ever made. —Allan Mott
The film is more of the same, with Alice (Jovovich) defying gravity and kicking ass, saving friends from the occasional threat of zombies with mouths that open to reveal vagina dentata thingies. Here, she reunites with her Extinction pals, including lithe Ali Larter, hiding atop a big tower. Wentworth Miller is there in a cage, which is kinda funny considering he spent four years breaking out of them on TV’s 
If you’re like me, you poor bastard, the title of this flick alone will land it in your Netflix queue. Then there’s the poster, depicting a pair of sexy, blood-spattered nurses. To hell with the queue — this one’s for instant streaming.
At this point, this goofy little film gets a bit more serious as directors Piraphan Laoyont and Thodsapol Siriwiwat go all surreal with the visuals. The hospital’s empty halls stop looking like ways to keep the budget down and start looking like corridors of the mind where bad things, and only bad things, ooze out of the walls or float along the ceiling.
Eric Shapiro is an excellent fantasist who churns out one great short story after another. In making the jump to storytelling for the big screen, he proves he can wring suspense visually, too. He directs 
Second are Lo and her boyfriend (Cary Woodworth), attempting to coerce one of their friends into a threesome, and finally finding a willing partner (Tiffany Shepis). Finally, there’s a sad-sack loner (Lee Schall) attempting to buy roofies for a girl he likes, so he calls a delivering drug dealer (Rodney Eastman,