According to the Internet Movie Database, LFC Lingerie Fighting Championships cost roughly $50K to produce; a paltry sum in the video and film world. Yet, when viewing the final product it is difficult to discern the motivations behind the project or not conclude that it was money poorly spent.
The film (if you can call it that) plays like a mockumentary, profiling a motley crew of women (and the men who train them) who participate in ultimate fighting. The key difference here is that the fighters are clad in lingerie, which is supposed to imbue the brawls with some degree of titillation. Yet this quality falls flat, with each actress behaving so absurdly during the fight sequences that any eroticism is negated.
This wouldn’t be an issue if other aspects of the project were handled with more efficacy and grace. The opening scenes for instance, which introduce the main participants of the ‘”league,” showcase perfectly the flaccid nature of project. We are introduced initially to a tall, slender woman named Roni Taylor, who is the founder and owner of the LFC. After explaining the concept of the enterprise (scantily clad girls draw in salivating men) the film moves on to profiling the rest of the LFC’s motley crew. Unfortunately, the most interesting aspect of all of these women are their colorful stage names. There is Michelle “Scrapper” Blanchard, a former football player now making a go of it in the ring, Feather “The Hammer” Hadden, the current LFC champion who resents Scrapper’s arrival, and finally the pint size Tara “Guillotine” Gaddy. This is just a few of the fighters in the film, but to list any more would be fruitless, as no one is truly distinctive or critical to the “story.”
Perhaps the more appealing characters in this exercise are the men, which include Jason (the husband of Roni) and Eric Logan (a coach and professional douche). These two men have a clearly established dynamic with each other (even if its not all that interesting). The lascivious, outrageous Eric plays strongly off of the stoic, straight man Jason. This plays out in the film’s first fight sequence (between Scrapper and Guillotine), where each man is charged with coaching one of the women through the brawl. The film cuts back and forth between the two of them as they each describe how their individual fighter is doing, and this technique actually produces a chuckle or two. However, the appeal of this is largely ephemeral and soon enough all a viewer is left with is the fighting – which contains nothing in the way of visceral drama and showcases little physical prowess.
On an aesthetic level, the film painfully shows the limits of both its budget and the filmmaker’s professionalism. Shots are poorly framed (with the tops of character’s heads being cut off) and the background outside the fighting ring (clearly visible in each brawl) is obviously a cheaply done special effect – with an amorphous, multicolored blur standing in for a real crowd. The audio provides no relief from the banality of the images, with the soundtrack being constituted by small snatches of generic rock and hip hop and the sound design feeling often sparse and even difficult to hear.
One can’t imagine who would be the target audience for this film, as there is negligible value from a filmmaking or fighting perspective, and it contains absolutely nothing in the way of erotic wish fulfillment. It’s unequivocally just a simple time waster, and not a very clever one at that.