I would say a solid 80 minutes of Knight of the Peeper‘s 90 minute runtime is dedicated to bare female flesh. Which is fine. It’s your dollar, make the movie you want to make. I’m sure director Jose Sombra looks back fondly on this film, one hand giving a thumbs up and one hand gently rolling a twenty dollar bill that will be used to get a bunch of booger sugar into his coke addled system. Again, that’s fine. YOLO and all that; but I will also say that this film is a boring mess, only saved by how jaw droppingly incompetent the whole shit burrito is. It’s like a Jess Franco film but instead of the odd flourish and obvious talent, you just have a director with a stocking fetish and an anger born erection.
The film opens with an eyepatched fat man chasing down a damsel in what is supposed to be some medieval forest. The chubby knight (in a lovely touch he is wearing a sparkly undershirt as opposed to expensive chainmail) catches the girl and drags her into a rundown cabin. The gutter system and building material gives away that this setting is not timespan accurate but the bigger giveaway is the poor woman’s fake breasts. Luckily if you’ve ever wanted to see fake boobs fondled to A Night on Bold Mountain then this flick may become a personal favorite. After a fondle session that goes on well past the point of patience, the knight slices the girl’s breast and drinks the blood sloppily. We are shown this in close up and if your stomach is not turning by the scene’s end than you have a stronger constitution than I! I guess the knight (named Count DeMarco) is caught because the next scene has him being found guilty of what ever dastardly shit he’s been up to and sentenced to being bricked up alive in some basement. He’s also miraculously lost the eyepatch, so either magic is at work or nobody behind the camera gives a shit and neither should you.
We now skip on ahead to modern times and Brooklyn is being terrorized by the Stocking Strangler. This creep peeps on various women and watches them do the things that women do in the minds of horny teen boys who have never gotten laid. The next large chunk of the film plays out like so:
1. Peeper peeps through window
2. Woman strips down to bra and panties
3. Woman gyrates and strips naked and continues gyrating and then showers
4. Peeper attacks and forces woman to put clothes back on and stockings…always stockings…. and then forces them to strip
5. Peeper kills the poor woman by strangulation with a stocking
That’s probably a good hour of the runtime. And trust me, it gets boring as fuck!
The tissue thin story is delivered through phone conversations between the women in various stages of undress. There’s talk of a party or some shit but that’s less than important.
It turns out one of the soon to be victims is related to Count DeMarco and I guess he was buried behind the wall in what is now her basement, you know…in medieval Brooklyn, and after the peeping creep spills her blood the pervert knight is back and things get shaken up. Kind of. DeMarco has hypnotic powers and forces the peeper to help him and the women to “sexy” dance for him. This leads to the film’s best line of dialogue: “dance for the knight.”, creepily whispered like it came from the mouth of some phantom haunting a discount strip club.
I said earlier that the only joy I got out of this film was how unbelievably wretched everything from a filmmaking standpoint is. This is leering cinema at its…uhm…finest? The acting is about as good as you’d expect from world weary strippers and their clientele that we’re looking to take some money off of whatever debt they had built up with their bookie/dealer (this is all conjecture and I could definitely be sued for libel but it would also require a jury having to view said film and I’m sure by the rolling of end credits I’d be pardoned of all charges and viewed as a hero. In the Lifetime movie adaptation I could be played by Gary Busey in a horrible wig.) There’s no injection of imagination or enthusiasm one usually finds in this bottom of the barrel crap. It’s just here for the T&A and unhealthy stocking/strangling fixation.
Library music is abused and the whole thing should leave you with less hope for humanity…at least whatever passes for humanity in Brooklyn. Somewhere between arousal and severe constipation Knight of the Peeper unhealthily festers. It’s like a homemade porno you found at your best friend’s house in his dad’s sock drawer. You can’t unsee it and for some unsettling reason you know that it knows that. 4/10