By Michael Campochiaro | July 24, 2020

I’m at the point where I’ve written about so many B-movies and cult classics over the years that I've lost count. One thing I always remember, though, is that I first watched many of them as a teenager thanks to USA Up All Night. The program aired every Friday and Saturday night throughout much of the 1990s, and was largely responsible for hooking an entire generation on the wild world of cult movies. Just the mere mention of some of these movies triggers memories of that late-night series and its utterly spellbinding Friday night host, Rhonda Shear. No surprise then, I've fallen down the YouTube rabbit hole of late, watching old Up All Night clips. Rhonda and the weekly shenanigans she got up to are as delightful as ever.

Whenever I say this I’m only partially kidding, but I usually refer to Rhonda as my first serious girlfriend because it’s not far from the truth, really. I spent most every Friday night in my early teens hanging out with her. Of course, so did many other pimply faced adolescents. She introduced kids like me to so many B-movie classics, many of which became all-time favorites of mine, like Sorority Babes in the Slimeball Bowl-O-Rama or Hollywood Chainsaw Hookers, to name just two. In fact, much of my movie reviewing sideline gigs over the years, which focus plenty on “bad” cinema, can be traced back to Rhonda and the movies she hosted on Up All Night. Sure, these movies were edited for cable, often in creative ways, but the overall gist of the down and dirty world of cult cinema shined through no matter what.

My lifelong affection for Rhonda isn’t just because she was my sexy, innuendo-spouting teacher in all things cult, horror, or exploitation cinema—even though she absolutely was, and I was definitely hot for teacher. It was also because she was my constant Friday night companion at a time when I had not yet even approached the general vicinity of the dating scene. Consequently, although Rhonda’s nineties big hair an ultra-tight micro-mini dresses might seem very much of their era to people who didn't grow up then, they still inspire a conditioned response in me any time I see them since. Her famous “sizzle kisses” were always a highlight of any episode, as was how she memorably modulated her cadence to a higher pitch for “Up!” in “Up All Night.”

Rhonda was also endearingly funny, playing up the blonde sexpot angle with great success. Her commercial break segments (which sometimes featured special guests like screams Linnea Quigley and Michelle Bauer or her real-life neighbor funny man Rip Taylor) were witty, smart, and sultry, thanks to good writing and Rhonda’s ability to sell even the silliest bits. For a kid like me, she was basically the perfect woman—she made me laugh and swoon. She had been in actress in some cult films prior to this gig, plus she was a skilled comedian. Whenever the show’s Saturday night host, comedy legend Gilbert Gottfried, and Rhonda got together, it was an absolute riot. There was a genuine likability that Rhonda brought to her work on the program, so spending time with her was a joy.

My recent YouTube binge of Up All Night segments on Rhonda's YouTube channel led me to a little excavation project in my basement. At some point in the nineties I became the proud owner of a pack of sixty Rhonda trading cards and, while it had been years (decades?) since I last saw them, I knew they were somewhere. Some lightly strenuous digging later, I found them, intact and looking pristine as ever. A little memento from my youth and young adulthood, from a time when Rhonda was a constant in my life and when very few things could be classified as such.

Last year I wrote a long, fawning piece on the importance of Rhonda and Up All Night on my development as a fan of subversive cinema. The article was shared and found its way to Rhonda herself. She seemed sincerely touched, and even complimented my writing. I might’ve lost consciousness for a second after that. She recently commented on some other Up All Night related social media posts of mine, even throwing in some sizzle kisses for me as well! Once again, I required smelling salts after that one. I guess you never really lose that puppy dog reaction when it comes to your first regular Friday night date.

Michael Campochiaro is your typical Gen Xer: freelance writer, cynical, sarcastic, hopeful, world-renowned expert on Michelle Pfeiffer.
He is a contributing writer for the forthcoming book, Tonight, On a Very Special Episode and can be found most days at The Starfire Lounge.

Up All Night with Rhonda Shear