Sword and Sorcery Tuesdays: Barbarian Queen!

Theme: Warrior Queen - Visigoth

Perhaps the most cheerfully tasteless of the brief sword and sorcery cycle of the 1980s was Barbarian Queen, whose first rape scene takes place in its first minute of screentime.

Wow, that escalated quickly. I mean that really got out of hand fast.

If The Warrior and the Sorceress was the first sword and sorcery western, Barbarian Queen is probably the first sword and sorcery rape/revenge flick, which concludes the plot summary. Deathstalker's Lana Clarkson stars as the titular heroine, who leads three more barbarian women (not to be confused with Amazons!, I guess) to avenge the raid on her village that saw randos slaughtered left and right, her groom-to-be captured as a slave for the gladiator pits, and everyone else raped by a faction of generic goons and also Karl Marx:

"A spectre is haunting Euraaaagh not my neckerino noooo pleeease help meee *gurgle* *sob*" - Karl Marx (Berenstein timeline).

In the flick's most haute-trash sequence, Clarkson finds herself bound in a torture dungeon to be raped by, to put it as diplomatically as possible, the happy merchant:

*balding movie analysis YouTuber voice* you see, the rack represents the casting couch, and the Jew represents err, umm, please stand by, we are having technical difficulties.

Was this the first flick written by /pol/? Astonishingly, yet not astonishingly at all, no! For the credited screenwriter is named Howard Cohen, making this drooling pervert his self-insert, making this one of the more damning cases of:

HOW will our heroine escape this average Hollywood screen test? If you guessed "by squeezing the torturer's dick with her barbarian vag muscles, forcing him to free her hands, then shoving him into a vat of acid he carelessly left directly behind him", you might just share the sadomasochistic paraphilias of Mr Cohen.

There are like twenty jokes I want to make here that my lawyers have advised me not to make.

Barbarian Queen may be the graveyard of good taste, but (therefore?) it was a hit and spawned a very nominal sequel (it has nothing to do with the original besides Clarkson returning) in which Cohen fails to beat the allegations by having her strapped to yet another rack. Hilariously, the sequel actually tries to pretend to be a stronk womyn empowerment flick, which I doubt even the densest gendyr stydies majyr bought for a second. Clarkson's career may never have escaped the bargain-bin ghetto of these flicks, but you may have heard of her for an even sadder reason: she was fatally shot by Phil Spector in 2003, in the most evil act of his career since producing John Lennon's Imagine.

RIP to this Farrah Fawcett tier hair game.