As a whole, Dial: Help is a waste of time for although it is bad, it never even gets close to getting as unbelievably bad as is required for a film to gain the sort a camp value that truly horrendous films gain through the passage of time; in another ten years, like now, Dial: Help will still just be boringly blah and not surrealistically horrendous.
Sexy Lewis is Jenny Cooper, a model haunted by a murderous entity that can control subway cars, kill people (and fish) over the phone and has the hots for Jenny. When Jenny isn't having orgasms brought about by windy telephone sex, she runs around from one telephone-induced death to another desperately trying to find a solution to her orgasms.
There is no aspect to this film which either makes sense or holds water, and the deaths – with the exception of an exploding pacemaker and a would-be rapist killed by a coin-ejaculating payphone – are relatively bloodless. Dial: Help is good for a few laughs, due mostly to the overall ridiculousness and badly-dated 80s style and the hilarious killer-telephone point-of-view shots, but a few laughs do not make for a worthwhile film experience. The resolution is as illogical as the film's beginning and, likewise, is in line with ineptness of the movie as a whole: any sympathy the viewer might have developed for Jenny Cooper as a character is suddenly and totally destroyed in the last scene when she spitefully and laughingly gives the cursed telephone number – and, one imagines, the curse itself – to her ex-boyfriend.
Crappy song to the movie by Claudio Simonetti (song : Baby Don't Answer):
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