Black Cobra Woman isn’t so much a film as it is 95 minutes of Black Emanuelle startlet Laura Gemser disrobing and hopping into bed with random people, regardless of gender, race, color or creed. It’s not for nothing this is also known as Emanuelle Goes Japanese.
Gemser works in Hong Kong as a dancer at a club, and her act involves gyrating suggestively with a live snake. This so entrances filthy rich businessman Jack Palance that he meets her the next day and asks her to move in with him, despite just being told that he gives her the heebie-jeebies. But he wants her company because, he says, “It’s lonely. And I like your scent.” (Hey, in a film like this, who doesn’t?) She relents until her jealous Asian boyfriend slaps and then dry-humps her (while wearing all of his three-piece suit). Then she’s gladly Jack’s new roomie. As the tagline goes, “How much snake can one woman take?”
Don’t expect wacky, Three’s Company-style shenanigans, because the rest is pretty much full-frontal Gemser, as she sleeps with women, showers with them, gets massaged alongside them with phallic instruments and even “helps” one put on her bathing suit and is practically hypnotized by the sight of the girl’s trim-needy beaver. To make up for the lack of story (and perhaps slightly justify the title), a couple of naked chicks are fatally bitten by snakes.
Given that it has some awkward edits — oh, and that it’s directed by porn’s Joe D’Amato — I’m convinced a harder, pervier version exists out there. It’s fairly pointless, but so blatantly prurient that its shortcomings don’t sink it entirely. —Rod Lott
This is the kind of dreck that likely led Lugosi straight to Smack Central. But the worst (and yet best) thing about it is the end, when our hero reporter and his gal pal shutterbug look over at the creepy guy who’s been peering in windows the whole time (and looks like Conan O’Brien with a chromosome deficiency) and ask, “Hey, who are you?” The creepy guy turns to the camera and says, “Who, me? I’m the author of the story! Screwy idea, ain’t it?” and then rolls up his car window, on which is shoe-polished “THE END.” 
The main difference between them is that Class Reunion was marketed as a straight comedy, which it constantly (and depressingly) attempts to be, while Slaughter High was marketed as a straight horror film, despite the fact that a combination of the filmmaker’s incompetence and contempt for the audience makes it play far more like an unsuccessful spoof than a typical slasher movie.
Dastan flees with Princess Tamina (Gemma Arterton) across the desert and encounter ostrich races, deadly snakes and guys with gloves that shoot spikes. He is quite the ace at hopping rooftops, performing rope tricks, and smiling and grunting. Whenever he effs up, he unleashes some magic sand in his magic dagger which reverses time for several seconds, resulting in a cool effect whose cost could keep Third World countries flush in white rice for years. 
After an initial night of bonding in the cabin over a pork dinner — during which Busey repeatedly plays with a disembodied pig’s head, and you wonder if that was scripted — Ice-T gets a rude awakening (literally) as he learns he — not wild animals — is the intended prey. Despite the miles and miles of forest around them and not having hunting dogs, they always manage to know right where he is. After running for a while, Ice-T decides to turn the tables on them, and you can pretty much guess what happens from there. It involves little more than rock-throwing, rigging vehicles, jumping from trees and uttering bad quips.