The movie was directed by Jerome Gary, who also made "Pumping Iron," and by now his formula is pretty well polished. He "casts" his documentaries by finding likely candidates (he was the first director to make Arnold Schwarzenegger and Lou Ferrigno into stars). Then he sets up some sort of confrontation, such as the strip contest in this film, as a framework for his story. To be sure, the women in this film are real strippers, and that is why the film succeeds in spite of itself. We may not care about the striptease competition and we may not even believe in it, but still the movie has a certain fascination.
A movie camera is an extraordinary device. Point it at something, and it will record what it sees. In the case of "Stripper," it sees Janette Boyd, a plucky women in her 30s, who has been a Vegas dancer for years. She saved her money, made wise investments, planned the future for herself and her young daughter, and then was betrayed by a man who took all of her money and ran. We see Kimberly Holcomb, a young woman who soberly discusses her attraction to sadomasochism, and then plans a stage act in which she will use fake blood. We even see her in a supply shop, looking for the right shade of blood.
We learn that most of the good strip clubs in North America are in Canada and that they're booked out of Vancouver. In the movie's most interesting passage, we see a couple of young strippers setting out from Vancouver in a convertible, heading for the vast Northwest. And we see the simple, almost humble bar where they take off their clothes for a week while providing the regulars with what they're starving for.
To our surprise, we find that the regulars - lonely working men - are starving, not for sex, but for conversation, and for the sweetness and the cheerfulness that these young women bring into their lives. We get the impression that if anyone in the bar tried to lay a hand on the girls, the others would throw him out.
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