When a film’s opening credits include pornstars, has-beens, and talentless unknowns, you have some idea what you’re in for right off the bat. With tantalizing names like Julie Strain, Fembomb, Lilith Stabs, and Syn Devil, it’s obvious that this is a lineup of stellar thespians.
And then there’s the plot: silly-looking robots are struggling to exterminate flesh-eating rubber bugs. Unfortunately their best “man” has become a serial killer. He likes to peel the flesh off half-naked (or totally naked) women. After a murdering spree he sometimes likes to unwind at robot confession (robot exterminators believe in god?), which doesn’t work all that well since his vocabulary consists of “Boom boom boom!”
The women all react to being attacked the same way: screaming, flailing about, and heaving their ample bosoms. The director can’t resist showcasing their talents with a shot of their (generally bloody) breasts after they’ve been murdered. Classy is not a word that will ever be associated with this film.
The robot cops have almost all of the film’s dialog, and it ranges from laughable to horrible—often both at the same time. While the other robots can say more than “Boom boom boom!” it’s hardly ever better. They all have different goofy voices and accents, and they say things like “That’s all we need, a schizophrenic toaster!” One conversation consists of two robot cops sitting around doing nothing and then saying “We won’t catch him like this”, after which they resume doing nothing. My favorite line is probably, "We brought him in three weeks ago for molesting a vacuum cleaner.”
The women hardly get any dialog beyond screaming. They spend their time showering, brushing their hair, and doing gymnastics/tae bo naked. Then they scream “Aaaaahhhh!” and die.
The villain uses an arsenal of weaponry to commit his crimes. Machetes, knives, axes, corkscrews, power drills, bow & arrows, claw hammers, crossbows, grenades, hatchets, a giant fork, RPGs, and an iceskate. As you can see from this list, the evil robot kills a lot of women. When he’s not killing he has visions of rubbery, bloody demons, talking stuffed boar heads, and rubber snakes talking to him.
Add in silly flying cars that look like models being waved around on string, piles and piles of guts and blood, stupid robot fights (including a robot swordfight), and you get the very definition of schlock.
Exterminator City is certainly a terrible film; I doubt anyone watching it would disagree. It avoids the cardinal movie sin of being boring, however, and I enjoyed it as a ultra-cheesy piece of trash. I wouldn’t recommend it for date night, but some bad movie lovers will get a kick out of it.