THE PINK BIKINI GANG (2013) **

You might remember me reviewing The Pink Bikini Gang vs. the Black Cobras a while back.  I didn’t have a really good idea what was happening in that one because A) I don’t speak Spanish and B) I had never seen the first Pink Bikini Gang movie, appropriately titled The Pink Bikini Gang.  Well, I finally checked it out, and I’m only slightly less confused as before.  

 

Some bad guys are trying to sell a top-secret missile-launching device that looks like an Amazon Kindle in a pink protective slipcase.  Their meeting is interrupted by a team of gun-toting dudes in black sunglasses who kill everyone and steal the machine.  When all attempts to retrieve the device fails, the government sends in a team of bikini clad babes to use their feminine wiles to stop the bad guys and save the world.  

 

The Pink Bikini Gang looks even cheaper than its sequel.  In fact, sometimes, you can see crew members and/or confused bystanders wandering into the shots.  It gets off to a strong start as the opening credits sequence features many jiggling butts.  However, it bogs down almost immediately as it’s frontloaded with a lot of long, dull dialogue scenes.

 

The cast is a bit of a mixed bag as anyone who doesn’t wear a bikini doesn’t make much of an impression.  I could have done without the girls’ stereotypically gay boss, who kind of acts like a Mexican version of Bosley from Charlie’s Angels.  The bad guys mostly look like ex-professional wrestlers (you can tell by their scarred foreheads), although they aren’t really all that memorable.  I did like the one villain whose Coke bottle glasses made him look like a cross between Danny Trejo and Burgess Meredith from the “Time Enough at Last” episode of The Twilight Zone.  

 

Like the sequel, the main draw here is the scenes of scantily clad bikini babes.  While that flick had plenty of scenes of the titular ladies walking slowly down hallways while brandishing firearms, this one is curiously low on bikini-girls-walking-down-hallways thrills.  However, the scene where they unsuccessfully try to holster their guns and resort to shoving them down the backside of their bikini bottoms is almost worth the price of admission.

 

The sequel was wise to have two sets of women in bikinis going toe to toe to help keep your interest.  This one has no such luxuries.  That’s right, the villains this time around are just a bunch of boring dudes, Because of that, The Pink Bikini Gang definitely doesn’t have the same level of sex appeal as the sequel.  That said, there are some fun moments here, like when our heroines swim in an Olympic-sized pool, beat up ugly dudes who hit on them in bars, put on impromptu bikini fashion shows, and naturally, perform seductive dance routines.  I think my favorite moment came when they use poison lipstick to drug the bad guys with tainted kisses.

 

All this makes for a fitfully amusing time.  Too bad that when it should be over, it continues on for another (bikini girl-less) ten minutes.  I’ll still give it Two Stars just because I couldn’t understand most of the plot.  (Those dialogue scenes certainly drag it down.)  Although it’s not up to the standards of the second one, when the girls are front and center, The Pink Bikini Gang is kinda fun.

THE PLAYBIRDS (1978) ** ½

A murderer is going around London strangling models who have appeared in a men’s magazine called Playbirds.  Two stymied Scotland Yard detectives pound the pavement but are unable to come up with any leads.  Desperate for a break in the case, they ask a sexy, but capable traffic cop (Mary Millington) to go undercover as the magazine’s next centerfold to hopefully lure and trap the killer.   

The Playbirds is one of those movies that have too many moving parts to quite work as a cohesive whole.  In addition to the police procedural plotline, we have the giallo-esque murder sequences (featuring a killer in black gloves), and faux-Playboy modeling shoots (including a Satanic orgy featuring a guy in a werewolf mask).  These set pieces work individually, but the final product feels a bit incongruous and uneven.  The stuff involving the Hugh Hefner wannabe’s woes at the racetrack are especially tiresome (the horse race footage provides the film with ample padding), and the downbeat ending doesn’t really fit the tone of the rest of the film.   

Fortunately, The Playbirds features one of my favorite exploitation movie tropes:  The sexy cop who goes undercover to nab a killer.  I particularly liked the scene where Millington had to “audition” in front of her co-workers to prove she had what it took to be a Playbirds centerfold.  (They also audition other lady cops, you know, just because.)  Millington has a winning screen presence, and her affable good cheer makes these swinging sexploitation sequences memorable.  It’s just a shame that many of the detective scenes are so plodding.  I did like the killer’s gimmick though.  (He numbers his victims with lipstick on their forehead.)   

Bottom Line:  When the film gets bogged down with the various subplots, it’s kind of a drag, but when it’s focused on the T & A (the lesbian scene is particularly saucy), The Playbirds soars. 

AKA:  The Playbird Murders.  AKA:  Secrets of a Playgirl.

SINTHIA: THE DEVIL’S DOLL (1970) *

When Sinthia (Shula Roan) was just twelve years old, she caught her parents making love.  Since she had an unnatural sexual attraction to her father, she stabbed both of them to death and burned the house down.  Years later, a psychiatrist tries to help her before she gets married and potentially snaps again.  

 

Sinthia:  The Devil’s Doll was co-written and directed by one of my favorite cult directors, Ray Dennis Steckler.  After his career in campy B movies like The Incredibly Strange Creatures Who Stopped Living and Became Mixed-Up Zombies dried up, he was forced to make nudies like this.  At least his backyard bargain basement productions like Rat Pfink a Boo Boo had a certain charm about them.  This one is just torturous.  It’s not even fun in a cheesy way.  The repetitive scenes of Sinthia hysterically yelling, “Daddy.... Daddy… Daddy!” over and over again will be an endurance test for even the most jaded exploitation fan.

 

The poorly framed sex scenes make it hard to tell who’s doing what to whom.  Steckler also overdoes it on the psychedelic imagery, with all the blue, orange, and red lights only adding to the visual chaos on screen.  The long dream sequences get on your nerves too.  In most movies, they are usually there to help us understand the character’s psychosis, but here, it just feels like a cheap and easy way for Steckler (who was using his “Sven Christian” pseudonym, the tip-off that he was trying to pass this off as an “arty” Swedish movie) to pad out the running time.  (The repeated sequences are another tell-tale sign Steckler’s trying to milk the running time for all its worth.)  What’s worse, the constant roller rink music is enough to drive you certifiably insane.  There are also beach scenes that look like leftover footage from Incredibly Strange Creatures.  

 

We do get one good sequence where Sinthia goes to Hell and is forced to “love herself” and masturbates until she brings herself to a chest-heaving climax.  This scene is solid, but it’s way too brief, lasting only about a minute.  The other seventy-six minutes are often hellish.

 

AKA:  Where the Devil Tolls.  AKA:  Teenage She Devil.

PUSSYCATS PARADISE (1960) ***

I’ve seen plenty of American nudist colony movies in my time.  Here’s one from across the pond.  Pussycats Paradise was produced with the assistance of the “British Sunbathing Association”, and it features enough novel nude activities to make it worth a look.  We get:  Nude smoking, nude swimming, nude picnicking, nude men flipping other nude men in the air, nude swinging (not that kind of swinging, unfortunately), and the piece de resistance, nude synchronized swimming! 

Jane (Shelly Martin) is a well-to-do businesswoman who inherits her grandfather’s corporation.  To pay for the inheritance tax, she decides to sell off her grandfather’s nudist camp.  When the director of the camp learns of her intentions, he pleads with her to save the camp.  At first, she doesn’t want anything to do with the place, but he insists that she see it for herself.  Once Jane gets a taste of nudism, she eagerly becomes a member and eventually decides to keep the camp open.  Much to her chagrin, her prudish old aunt, the main shareholder in the company, wants no part of the camp.   

One memorable sequence occurs during the camp’s open mic night where members get up in front of everybody and sing corny songs.  This shindig is fully clothed, but that doesn’t detract from the fun.  Speaking of clothes, the men all wear shorts for some reason.  (Sometimes they are shown wearing a different pair of shorts from scene to scene.)  On the plus side, the women appear nude quite frequently, although they always seem to have a beach towel or a dish rag placed JUST in the right spot, so you won’t see their… ahem… Pussycats Paradise. 

The highlight though is the terrific nude shower fight.  It almost feels like a forerunner to the shower fights that would later be found in the Women in Prison genre.  If there was another sequence of this caliber, it would’ve been a classic for sure.  

As it is, the film has just enough plot in there to make it feel like a real movie.  (It certainly feels more authentic than most of its American counterparts).  No one will mistake it for gripping cinema, but I found it to be breezy and enjoyable.  In short, Pussycats Paradise is paradise for lovers of old nudie movies. 

AKA:  The Nudist Story.  AKA:  For Members Only.  AKA:  Five Acres.

MOVIE CRAZY (1932) ** ½

Harold Lloyd stars as a smalltown boy who moves to Hollywood with dreams of becoming a movie star.  While trying to break into the business, he falls madly in love with a starlet (Constance Cummings).  Naturally, her jealous ex (Kenneth Thomson) butts in and tries to keep the fledgling lovebirds apart.   

While Harold Lloyd transitioned from silent movies to talkies better than some of his contemporaries, much of his later work paled in comparison to his films from the silent era.  Movie Crazy isn’t exactly bad, but it lacks the panache and charm of his earlier pictures.  He was even recycling a lot of material at this point in his career.  The plot is essentially the same as Girl Shy, except this time out, Harold wants to be a movie star instead of an author.  The fight scene finale, while action-packed, owes a lot to the climax of The Kid Brother, too.  It also doesn’t help that there isn’t a lot of chemistry between Lloyd and his leading lady Cummings. 

That said, there are a couple of funny sequences here that make it worthwhile for die-hard fans of Lloyd.  I liked the scene where he gets a job as an extra and ruins take after take with his constant bumbling.  Another funny moment finds him trying to retrieve his shoe from a storm drain during a downpour.  The best sequence though is the extended dinner party scene where Lloyd inadvertently winds up wearing a magician’s coat and wreaks havoc among the stuffy socialites.  These moments help to keep the movie afloat and make up for its occasional detours into the creaky romantic subplot.  Also, there’s some pretty impressive camerawork to be found, especially during the scenes set on the studio lot.  

Overall, I can’t say I was crazy about Movie Crazy, but there’s enough laughs here for me to give it a marginal recommendation.

THE KID BROTHER (1927) *** ½

Harold Lloyd stars as the youngest, scrawniest son of a burly sheriff.  He gets himself into a predicament when he falls in love with a pretty dancer (Jobyna Ralston) from a medicine show, who mistakes him for his father.  When dear old dad is accused of theft, it’s then up to Harold to clear his name and bring the real crooks to justice.  

The Kid Brother typifies what made Harold Lloyd so beloved.  The big physical comedy routines contain a lot of laughs, but it’s the little character moments that really make the audience root for him.  It’s amazing how with the minimum of effort, he creates a likeable underdog character that you can automatically love.  

There are some great set pieces, like when Lloyd tries to fetch his father’s best shirt from the clothesline.  Heck, even some of the throwaway bits (like his ingenious method of doing the dishes) are a marvel of comedic mastery.  Of course, his physicality is second to none, which is wonderfully portrayed during the awesome moment where Lloyd scales (and subsequently fall from) a large tree just to get a glimpse of Ralston as she’s walking away.  

While The Kid Brother has some fun stretches, not all the sequences yield big laughs.  The scene where Lloyd’s brothers try to keep out of sight from Ralston while she’s staying in their home goes on a bit too long and is a little repetitive.  There are also some unfunny shenanigans involving a comic relief monkey that could’ve easily been scrapped.   

These ho-hum bits don’t really detract from the overall sense of fun.  Besides, the great character work that Lloyd does throughout the film more than make up for its assorted shortcomings.  The ending where Harold mans up and does the right thing against nearly impossible odds is quite rousing and will have you grinning from ear to ear.  Also, the chemistry between Lloyd and Ralston (who was also his leading lady in Girl Shy) is winning, and their final moments together ends the film on a pitch perfect note.  

STORM OF THE CENTURY (1999) ***

With Storm of the Century, Craig R. Baxley directed one of the better Stephen King TV mini-series.  It’s not perfect, as it’s a little slow to start (it played better when it was strewn over three nights when it originally ran on television as opposed to trying to watch it on home video in one sitting), but there are some legitimately great moments here.  The ending is rather terrific, too.  It just takes a while to get there.

Storm of the Century is similar in many ways to King’s less successful Needful Things.  It’s set in another little Maine town where gossip gets around at lightning speed.  A stranger then waltzes into town who somehow knows everybody’s secrets and uses it against them, causing mistrust, chaos, and eventually death.

Colm Feore is the mysterious stranger, Andre Linoge, who arrives just ahead of a big snowstorm.  His first order of business is to murder an old woman.  As he’s being arrested, he tells constable Mike (Tim Daly), “Give me what I want, and I’ll go away”.  He takes him into custody and soon, Linoge begins manipulating the townsfolk into committing suicide and/or murdering their loved ones.  Finally, Linoge reveals his purpose, and much to Mike's horror, the town is all too eager to go along with it.

King’s screenplay might’ve worked better as a two-parter than a three-parter.  That said, when it cooks it really cooks.  There are passages that unfold like one of King’s novels (the script was written directly for television).  He always saw himself as a “putter-inner” than a “taker-outer”, so even though some of these stretches are a little on the slow side, most of them have their moments and/or payoffs.  Sure, there are some eye-rolling sequences here and there (like when Linoge is flying around the clouds with the town’s children like a cross between Superman and the Pied Piper), but then again, so do a lot of the King mini-series from the era.  Whenever Feore is front and center and turning the screws to the hapless citizens, it’s some damned fine stuff.

Daly (whose Wings’ co-star Steven Weber was in another King TV adaptation, The Shining) is quite good.  He gives one of his best performances, and capably holds down the fort whenever things threaten to spin out of control.  It’s Colm Feore who steals the movie as the icy cold evil entity who holds the town hostage and demanding a sacrifice.  He also gets all the best lines, and while his catchphrase “Born in sin?  Come on in!” is a bit repetitive, it’s a lot of fun to watch him chew the scenery.

Sure, some of the CGI effects have aged poorly.  Sure, there are some lulls in the action.  However, the final half-hour is about as good as King TV gets.  It may be a little wonky here and there, but Storm of the Century’s final act contains some truly chilling stuff.