Or: Pop hurts: from Nena to throbbing gristle in ninety needy minutes. Or: Eat what you love and the world eats with you. If, in any event, this was about quasi-fascistic cults of celebrity and their concomitant pathologies back in 1982, here in our own equivalizing age these kinds of relationships are available to us all. Forward, mahlzeit!
The first 60min got me thinking this was another shitty movie with soapy girl. The last 20min made me scream internally. This girl got A character (the one that hasn't been named before, the strange element that makes B-movie fascinating). Deserve to be cult. Three stars for (another) subjective reasons.