As much as you may love movies, you’re human and only have so much time. Some movies are simply going to fall by the wayside, never to be seen by your eyes. That’s okay. You’re not a bad person. Unless you’re Rod Lott (the creator of this site) and that movie is Da’ Booty Shop. In that case, you’re going to suffer eternal torment in Hades for what you did.
See, a while back, someone sent a DVD copy of that film to Rod to review and he decided he could live the whole rest of his life without doing so. I mocked him for his refusal and suggested he was a coward. In retaliation, he sent it to me and dared me to watch and review it. And I did, first in video form (see below) and now here in print. Does this make me a better person than him? Yes. Yes it does.
An “urban comedy” (that means it’s about black people), Da’ Booty Shop recounts the adventures of a stripper named Yolanda (Trina McGee), who reluctantly inherits the responsibilities of an “urban” hair salon (that means it’s for black people) after her brother (Marcello Thedford) is sent to jail for undisclosed reasons. Yolanda is an idiot and is no way prepared to deal with the mess her brother has left for her to deal with. For some reason, she decides to hire her stripper friends to work at the salon, and it all ends happily.
The plot is unimportant. All that matters is that Da’ Booty Shop really sucks and I was man enough to watch it and someone else wasn’t. Remember that. I know I will. —Allan Mott
Freda — who deserves to be remembered with Dario Argento, Mario Bava and Lucio Fulci — creates suspense with nothing more than sound, things you think you see, outstanding production design, Steele’s gorgeous face, and a budget of about $17. But come on, all you really need is Steele’s face.
For a film released in ’61 starring legendary guitar slinger Cash, Five Minutes is edgy and hyperviolent. Cash is surprisingly convincing as the skittish menace. With his personal history, maybe some of that manic energy is pure method, with him howling the methamphetamine blues. 
Rodrigo García directs with a gloomy crispness that makes all of Canada look like an 
They’re sent to investigate a radioactive crater in Nicholson Canyon, only to find a horde of star creatures (men with burlap sacks over their heads, ping-pong balls for eyes and twigs and leaves placed randomly about their tights) and, better yet, two bra-busting honeys named Poona (!) and Tanga (!!) from 60 million light years away who want to take over Earth and who wear skintight space suits that can’t quite contain their ass cheeks. They’re played by Gloria Victor and Dolores Reed — or, as the credits refer to them, “Wow!” and “Wow! Wow!”