Review
Is it art or is it porn? While this question may be bandied about for years to come in regards to The Night Porter and Salon Kitty, answering that question for a movie like The Cheerleaders should take about as much time as it would take for a chorus of people to shout out in unison, "It's porn!" Where The Night Porter represents the tendency in the 1970s of filmmakers to try and blur the lines between art and exploitation, The Cheerleaders represents the same decade's commitment to movies that just want to give you something to jerk off to in the grindhouse. There is nary a single shred of artistic value or even common decency, not a single glimmer of aspirations to something greater. The Cheerleaders is unrelenting and indefensible sleaze. And predictably enough, to that we say, "Rah rah rah!"
