Part shot-on-video horror, part fetish movie, one will be hard-pressed to see a more nonsensical, cheap, shameless, and proud bit of sleaze outside the porn industry, unless one is watching any of the other dozens of flicks from moviemaker Gary Whitson and W.A.V.E. Productions. What is W.A.V.E.? Why, only the finest film production company in all of New Jersey. W.A.V.E. is a bit difficult to explain, so here is a trailer for a documentary about them that sums it up well.
As mentioned in that trailer, W.A.V.E. movies defy criticism. They are what they are. I agree, but only to a certain extent. When judged objectively, against every other movie I’ve ever seen, I can write with simple clarity that Female Mercenaries on Zombie Island is a bad movie. It stinks. It’s awful. It’s a true bottom feeder cinematic experience. And it was never meant to be anything else. Should anyone care enough to do so, it would make for a wonderful case study into the psychological reasons behind why some people, those here at Missile Test included, like watching bad movies. I’ve never thought about the ‘why’ too deeply. I’m too busy enjoying myself. That lack of self-analysis is critical to enjoying this movie. It’s so bad that you can’t stop to think about it or it might provoke a personal crisis.
The story, such as it is, goes thusly. It’s the near future! The year 2000! A meteorite crashes into the Earth. But not before viewers get to watch W.A.V.E. stalwart Tina Krause have a shower. Fast forward to the year 2008, and the Doctor (fellow W.A.V.E. regular Pamela Sutch) has aspirations to take over the world. She does this by seizing the minds of male world leaders, or something. The only other men are zombies, but Whitson and company didn’t bother with any makeup, except for one guy who wears a mask. The zombies are really just frumpy guys who have a hankering for human flesh.
The Doc has an army at her beck and call, and they’re all young women. The uniform of the future are long t-shirts belted at the waist, white nylon knee-highs, heels, and panties. The Doctor has her people running all over the woods of New Jersey chasing this and that, and eagle-eyed viewers will be able to spot a cast member’s dedication by their footwear. The real ones didn’t swap out the heels for sneakers when it came time to run. I’d question someone’s willingness to twist an ankle for this dog, but, as auteur Jim Van Bebber says, “Pain is temporary. Film is forever.”
Krause and Laura Giglio, yet another W.A.V.E. regular, end up in conflict with the Doctor, and there is more running around the woods, more zombie confrontations, and a little mud wrestling. Yeah, it’s a fetish movie. And then, after about 90 minutes, it ends.
That’s a long running time for a movie so thin. Whitson did this by stretching out scenes well past their storytelling usefulness. Again, this is a fetish movie. All the overblown scenes involve violence against women, including a scene where one woman is first cooked bourguignon-style, then roasted over an open flame. Strangely enough, this scene didn’t have any nudity. They cooked her in her uniform. What a weird choice. Then again, fuck it, this is a weird movie.
Female Mercenaries on Zombie Island is trash exemplified. It falls into the darkest of the nether reaches of the Watchability Index, landing with a thud at #590, displacing Doggie B. That’s right. A cheap fetish movie is slightly more watchable than a movie made for toddlers. I’d recommend staying away from this dog, but who am I to judge?