Review: Infamous Monsters: Hotsy Totsy Burlesque’s "Halloween 13 ¾" Gives Slasher Villains a Killer Night Out

Halloween 13 ¾ – Strip of the Slasher Movie Villains

Presented by Hotsy Totsy Burlesque at The Slipper Room

167 Orchard Street, Manhattan, NYC

October 8, 2026

Dutch Baby. Photo by Jason Laboy. 

For the better part of five decades, Michael Myers has made a career of clearing rooms. For one night at The Slipper Room, he finally brings down the house. As embodied by Fem Appeal in Hotsy Totsy Burlesque’s Halloween 13 ¾ – Strip of the Slasher Movie Villains, horror cinema’s famously expressionless killer makes for a thrilling entertainer – the perfect capstone to an evening in which some world-class slashers prove to be excellent company.

Presented by Cherry Pitz and Handsome Brad, Hotsy Totsy’s Halloween offering gathers Jason Voorhees, Freddy Krueger, Ghostface, and assorted other nightmares for an evening of striptease, mutual pop-cultural affection, and unapologetically terrible jokes. The fun begins before the show proper, as patrons settle in with drinks to horror-themed musical parodies. “Call Me Sidney,” a Scream-inspired spin on “Call Me Maybe,” and “Kills, Kills, Kills,” borrowing from Mötley Crüe, establish the evening’s air before anyone has uttered a word or lifted a garter onstage.

Then Dylan Mary Jane explodes onto the scene. Appearing as Scream’s Billy Loomis in plaid and denim shorts snipped strategically into chaps, their physically powerful and technically precise go-go dancing mesmerizes, rendering the performance’s rhythmic yet ribald abandon all the more impressive. Billy’s flannel doesn’t stay put for long, as all manner of spectators eagerly come forward, crisp cash in hand, finding their way to the stage and Billy’s waiting thong. This room isn’t afraid to play along.

And our hosts for the night, Cherry Pitz and Handsome Brad, know how to keep us all playing. The sexy, squeaky, and gloriously ditzy Cherry (stage persona of producer Cyndi Freeman) is cheerfully certain of herself even when she has no earthly reason to be. Brad (co-producer Brad Lawrence) makes a marvelous straight man, never pulling focus, a feat for someone so conspicuously tall, debonair and, well, damn handsome. He lets Cherry command the silliness, offering just enough resistance to make the next joke land. Their exchanges introduce acts, bridge transitions, and sustain a loose plot that pays off when Cherry ultimately transforms into one of the iconic killers herself.

Fem Appeal. Photo by Epique Captures Photography. 

Their flirtatious, affectionate banter sets the tone of the evening. There is a touch of The Rocky Horror Picture Show in the enthusiasm of the audience and the pleasure everyone takes in a shared inside joke. But the hosts’ evident care for each other keeps the atmosphere warm rather than merely rowdy. It is an unexpectedly welcoming room for a gathering of slashing cinematic psychopaths.

The structure is loose, as a revue’s ought to be, but never careless. The hosts have room for gags as magnificently daft as “Jason, he’s into hockey?” An intermission raffle of horror-themed odds and ends feels like an extension of the party, while the running Freddy Krueger thread quietly sets up the penultimate number. With Cherry and Brad keeping the evening in motion, variety becomes a virtue.

The acts are packed with jokes that could only belong to these particular villains and an audience in the know. Dutch Baby performs as Saw’s Billy the Puppet, with full makeup, a tricycle, and strategically placed tassels to match. Her riding crop reaches into the audience to flick a (perhaps too self-serious) spectator’s Sunny Day Real Estate baseball cap off his head. Mary Cyn’s blade-adorned Cenobite, meanwhile, seems right at home, whip in hand and audience enthralled. If Hellraiser’s infernal visitors answer the summons of people in pursuit of extreme pleasure, it turns out the call was coming from inside the Slipper.

Désirée De Sade brings a different kind of camp to Camp Crystal Lake. Her Jason Voorhees strips to Allan Sherman’s “Hello Muddah, Hello Fadduh,” a summer-camp novelty song whose would-be innocence becomes funnier with every layer shed. The hockey mask stays firmly in place as the rest of the costume disappears, leaving Jason with little more than his machete and a pair of tassels to work with. There is something wonderfully disarming about the result therein - the mask still belongs to a killer, but the body beneath it has joined the party.

Persé Fanny. Photo by Epique Captures Photographty.

Rosie Cheeks, in turn, makes recognition itself the punch line. She begins as Scream’s Ghostface, teasing out the removal of a glove to Nick Cave’s “Red Right Hand,” before revealing Gale Weathers in her unmistakable lime-green newscaster outfit. The audience erupts, knowing a good thing when it’s laid (increasingly) bare in front of them. Here the striptease depends as much on suspense and timing as on the disrobing itself: knowing the movie makes the process of revelation richer, while Cheeks makes the audience enjoy waiting for it.

The supporting details are just as carefully considered. Venatrix, the stage kitten dressed as Tiffany from Bride of Chucky, later poses as Scream’s doomed Casey when Dylan Mary Jane returns with a prop knife and an impressive set of splits. And Cherry’s penultimate appearance as Freddy Krueger – complete with a raggedy, revealing sheath dress in familiar red-and-green stripes, accented, of course, with his iconic bladed glove – pulls together the hosts’ show-length running comic thread on a sweet, silly, sexy note.

Then, at last, Michael Myers emerges.

Rosie Cheeks. Photo by Epique Captures Photography.

Fem Appeal closes the night with a performance of bracing physical energy, a striptease punctuated by extraordinary kicks. The decision to retain Michael’s objectively ugly mask throughout is inspired. With the face hidden behind that rigid expression, every bit of personality must come through the body – and it does. The result is as exhilarating as it is absurd: a killer whose film appearances depend on relentless, mechanical movements now becomes the most animated presence in the room. A monster who ordinarily stalks his victims now kicks his way through a finale. The character becomes the ultimate life of the party, propelled by Appeal’s fierce command of both her own formidable physicality and the tenor of a room of screaming fans who have been well whipped into a climactic frenzy.

The best jokes of Halloween 13 ¾ are lovingly specific, and the best performances make that specificity move to a beat. Some jokes land the moment a costume is recognized. Others, like Cheeks’s transformation or the masked routines, depend on a performer’s patience and a spectator’s willingness to wait. Horror and burlesque both know the known pleasures of anticipation, of making an audience wonder what will be revealed next. Cherry and Brad give those pleasures an intimate social life, turning an evening of individual acts into an occasion shared by performers and spectators alike. There is real craft in making potentially silly entertainment feel so sexy, and real generosity in making it feel so welcoming.

At The Slipper Room, the monsters came out to play – and no one seemed particularly interested in escaping.

-Noah Simon Jampol