Katt Shea Ruben's application to transfer from the cinematic gutter (Stripped to Kill, Stripped to Kill II) into the cinematic cellar: a bad-girl thriller about an adolescent sexual omnivore (Lolita tendencies, lesbian tendencies) with black-rooted bleached hair, a black leather jacket, a stick-on tattoo on her miniskirted thigh, a ring through her right nostril ("feels like you have a booger"), who befriends the class wallflower, insinuates herself into the House of Affluence, and accelerates the moral decay therein. But she does not accelerate it much. The movie strives not so much for thrills or dramatic tension as for slow rot. Watching it is like watching mildew form. And as a matter of fact, it has much the same hue. With Drew Barrymore, Sara Gilbert, Tom Skerritt, and Cheryl Ladd (subdued, dignified, withdrawn almost to the point of fade-out, in a role that's part-Rapunzel, part-Madeline Usher, part-Sunny von Bulow). (1992) — Duncan Shepherd
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