1974, United States. Starring Jo Johnston, Colleen Camp, Jodi Carlson, Ric Carrott, Sandy Dempsey, Jack Denton, Ron Hajek, Rosanne Katon, Mae Mercer, Bob Minor, John Quade, Ian Sander, Cheryl Smith, Jason Sommers, George Wallace. Directed by Jack Hill. Available on DVD from Amazon

Yeah, remember cheerleader movies? They don't make them much now, but back in the 1970s there was a whole glut of them, thanks primarily to low-budget film tornado Roger Corman, who also gave the country an equally impressive avalanche of "naughty nurse" movies. Now I've been to hospitals and seen a lot of nurses but have never seen one whom I'd like to see be naughty. Cheerleaders, on the other hand, are a much safer bet, though I will state that, unlike many members of my sex, I never developed a thing for them. I was too busy being into punk rock and courting strange gypsy-like d-rock girls to be interested in clean-cut young ladies urging me to show my spirit. That was back in the days when cheerleaders performed cheers instead of just coming out from time to do dance routines to out of date dance hits or something by Justin Timberlake.

Likewise, I never much got into cheerleader films, not that I had easy access to them as a kid. That was in the era before cable television and VCRs, so if I wanted to see cinematic boobs, I had to go over to my friend's house who had the big satellite dish in the back yard. And generally, we turned to sleazy barbarian movies for our nudity fix, because then it also came wrapped in a package with guys waving swords in each other's faces while they talked about wizards. But it's not like I was ever opposed to watching a cheerleader movie when it came on. Yes, my arm could be twisted, and if you insisted, I'd sit through the shower scenes and party scenes in the name of…umm…I don't know. Research? Acquiring a well-rounded film education? Beats me.

Of all the cheerleader movies, The Swinging Cheerleaders has the most promising title and, oddly enough, is the least sleazy and exploitive of the bunch. Chalk that one up to director Jack Hill, who was a master of injecting cheap exploitation with some actual storytelling and interesting characters. He's best known as the director on Pam Grier's two best films, Coffy and Foxy Brown, and he worked on a slew of Corman productions. This isn't one of his better films, but it's a better film for his participation, if that makes any sense. It's a smarter, perhaps more politically aware cheerleader exploitation film than the others, but it's also a duller one. Funny enough, it was passed off on cable from time to time as a sequel to the idiotically enjoyable cheerleader sleaze H.O.T.S., even though The Swinging Cheerleaders was made a full decade before that film. And you thought that kind of thing only happened to Bruce Lee.


The plot is simple enough: radical campus reporter Kate (Jo Johnston) wants to do a story on how cheerleading degrades women. So naturally, she goes undercover as a cheerleader. Luckily, even though she's a college feminist and all-around radical, she also has a full arsenal of polished cheerleading skills. After infiltrating their ranks and gaining their trust, she discovers that most of the cheerleaders are actually quite nice, and some of the football players are good guys. Her radical boyfriend, on the other hand, turns out to be a grade-A heel even though his Art Garfunkle hair marks him as a sensitive guy. Kate also uncovers a plot to fix the football games, and of course, everyone gets involved in busting up the racket while also having to urge the players to push 'em back, push 'em back, way back.

So points to Hill for trying to do something a little different and perhaps even more meaningful with a subgenre that was made for drive-in exploitation. I think the film's claims to be a celebration of women's lib and sexual equality is a little dubious, but that was a common ploy and so remains to today where every cheap exploitive film about a woman in a skimpy leather outfit is trumpeted as "the story of a woman taking charge of her own sexuality" so long as she kicks a guy in the balls with her stiletto heels at some point. I think they even tried to pass off Showgirls as a feminist triumph before just giving up and giving it the tagline, "The movie where that chick from Saved by the Bell gives the dude from Twin Peaks a lapdance."


Hill's script, which is credited to two female writers but was, apparently, slapped together by Hill himself along with help from a friend, is surprisingly well-plotted, and one incident leads well into the next. That doesn't mean a lot of it doesn't get a bit boring, though. Frat parties are really only fun to watch if they involve John Belushi smashing thing or Snoop Dogg with a video camera taking a group of girls into the back room. Likewise, there are a lot of scenes of people sitting around talking about sex without actually having it. Just about everyone in their cast shows their boobs at some point, with the exception of "name" co-star Colleen Camp. Though previous and subsequent cheerleader movies wouldn't shy away from the full frontal shots, this one has none. So, I don't know. You can let your teenagers watch it or something.

Hill's story is typically schizophrenic, something that was a trademark of his. At time slapstick comedy, at time poorly-choreographed action film, and at times misguided drama, The Swinging Cheerleaders certainly has parts that keep it from being a completely lightweight and easy-to-enjoy romp, but at the same time the "serious" moments are so cartoonishly overdrawn that it's impossible to take them as seriously as they might or might not want you to.


The acting, like the script, is better that you'd expect. No one's in danger of becoming acclaimed on account of their performance, but very few people are risking being thought of as completely awful. And best of all, Rosanne Katon is in the film. I first fell for her while watching the otherwise wretched Ebony, Ivory, and Jade, where Jade dies early and gets replaced by another Ebony, but I guess they couldn't call the film Ebony, Ivory, and a Little More Ebony. She's cute as hell and always energetic, and is one of the best actresses in this film. Lead Jo Johnston is okay as well, and her sleazy boyfriend is easy to hate. Read whatever politics you will into the fact that the liberated radical gets off on exploiting women while the star quarterback is revealed to have a heart of gold. I think it's less a comment on the disillusionment with campus activism and more a statement of the fact that sometimes athletes are nice and hippies are dicks.

Overall, I'm left with very little to say about the film. It's the ultimate in disposable drive-in fare and a fine example of Hill's knack for taking brainless exploitation and trying to invest at least a little heart into things. Still, it's not really that interesting of a movie to me, and though it would have been a great double-feature to catch at the drive-in or as a kid late at night sneaking a peek on cable, it's not the sort of film that can hold my interest for very long. Still, I'd rather watch this than a hundred more recent "erotic thrillers." At least it has some intelligence and a weird sense of humor. I'd rather watch this thank Bring it On, but just barely.

Labels: Cheerleaders, Netflix Diary, Sexploitation, Year: 1974