TUBI CONTINUED… BIKINI HACKERS (2023) NO STARS

Computer hacking is not the most exciting of cinematic activities.  What’s so interesting about a bunch of people sitting in front of their computer and typing on a keyboard?  If you’re going to make a movie about computer hackers, you might as well make them hot babes in bikinis.  I mean, generally speaking, if you want to get me to watch any movie, you might as well make the main characters hot babes in bikinis.  

A team of bikini-clad hackers recruit a new member (Caroline Elise) to their crew.  Their latest plan is to fleece a scummy CEO and redistribute his wealth to the poor.  So far, it sounds like an OK time, right?

Wrong.

Even though she looks great in a bikini (as several characters point out), Jazz Egger, who plays the leader of the bikini hackers is definitely NOT an actress.  That would be OK, ordinarily.  I mean you don’t have to be a Shakespearian actress in something like this.  You don’t necessarily even have to deliver your lines in a convincing manner.  You can't, however, annoy the shit out of the audience.  

Her thick accent, combined with her Valley Girl delivery, and severe lisp makes her sound like Zsa Zsa Gabor on helium after she burnt the roof of her mouth on French bread pizza.  You can’t understand a lick of what she’s saying, which again, shouldn’t matter since she spends half the movie in a bikini.  However, they give her so many longwinded speeches laced with computer hacking gobbledygook that not even the sight of her in a bikini can erase the pain of her acting.  

What’s even worse is that for a movie called Bikini Hackers, they couldn’t even crack the code of how to get the girls out of their bikinis.  I’m not sure Egger would’ve been bearable even without the bikini.  I do know the movie might’ve (MIGHT’VE) skated by with at least ½ *.

I have no idea whether or not she really talks and acts this way in real life or if she really is a master thespian going for one of those Gonzo go-for-broke Nicolas Cage-type of performances.  Either way, she’s annoying as Hell.  And that’s unfortunate because she’s front and center nearly the entire movie.  

That’s not even mentioning the rest of the crap that’s in this movie, which is equally dire.  I think the worst part (aside from Egger’s performance) is the constant scenes of hackers typing messages back and forth to one another.  These messages are rife with spelling and grammatical errors.  They also go on forever and are painful to watch.  

In short, everyone in Bikini Hackers should be Anonymous.  And I don’t mean they should join the hacking group, Anonymous.  I mean they should be Anonymous.  (Heck, even Egger isn’t listed in the credits on IMDb, so she was at least smart enough to lay low.)

TUBI CONTINUED… GIANTESS ATTACK VS. MECHA-FEMBOT (2022) **

When I first put this on, I thought it was a sequel to director Jim Wynorski and producer Charles Band’s Giantess Battle Attack (which itself was a sequel to Attack of the 50 Foot Camgirl).  As it turns out, it’s a sequel to another Band production, Giantess Attack (which I haven’t seen).  The opening scene amusingly kept me up to speed on what I missed.

You see, the movie is built around the conceit we are watching the “Sci-Fly Channel” and the host (a Katey Sagal impersonator?!?) is premiering a failed TV pilot from the ‘90s called Giantess Attack.  (“It’s part Ultraman, part foot fetish video”.)  There’s also a pretty funny spoof of those Sarah McLachlan ASPCA commercials before the “show” starts.

Anyway, in the last “episode”, the duo of Giantesses go their separate ways after accidentally destroying Hollywood.  Diedre (Tasha Tacosa from Halloween Pussy Trap Kill! Kill!) sulks off to her “Fortress of Immeasurable Guilt” while Frida (Rachel Riley) desperately wants her back in action.  Meanwhile, an evil alien queen (Christine Nguyen) shrinks and kidnaps a scientist and forces him to create a giant robo-babe (Vlada Fox) to take over the world.  Can the Giantesses put their differences aside to save the day?

The first twenty minutes or so held a lot of promise.  I mean, when I sat down to watch this, I had no idea I would be in store for a catfight parody of the fight scene from They Live.  This sequence is almost worth the price of admission.  

However, after that scene (which occurs fairly early on), it’s all downhill from there.  I guess it wouldn’t have been so bad if there hadn’t been so much recycled footage from the first movie.  There are also too many supporting characters that take away from Tacosa and Riley’s screen time.  It’s always fun seeing Nguyen, but she can probably play this sexy evil queen villain role in her sleep by now.  

You would think the finale where the two Giantesses team up to battle Mecha-Fembot would be a winner, but it’s a total snooze.  If only Wynorksi was at the helm.  He could’ve really breathed some life into the Giantess battles.  (Not to mention tossed some T & A in there as well.)  Oh, and the giant/shrinking effects are some of the worst I have ever seen, and boy, is that ever saying something.  

AKA:  Giantess Attack 2.

FRANCO FEBRUARY: DEATH WHISTLES THE BLUES (1964) **

Jess Franco made Death Whistles the Blues the year after Rififi in the City.  Severin recently released them as part of a DVD double feature, and they make for an ideal pairing.  Both films are noir-influenced crime pictures that are padded out with calypso and jazz songs (plus a little blues this time out) as well as cabaret song and dance numbers.  They also contain (nearly) silent safecracking scenes and feature (Spoiler) a woman acting in an avenging angel capacity.  In fact, both movies include a nightclub called The Stardust, which makes me think Franco was trying to do a shared universe deal way before Marvel made it fashionable.  

Castro (Conrado San Martin) and Smith (Manuel Alexandre) are tricked into running guns in their fruit truck by the slimy Vogel (Georges Rollin).  While they rot in jail for ten years, Vogel marries Castro’s wife (Perla Cristal) and sets himself up in a mansion in a small Jamaican village.  Shortly after Smith is released from prison, he is brutally murdered.  Castro then saunters into town looking for revenge.

While the movie looks great (maybe not as sharp and snazzy as Rififi in the City, but it’s certainly atmospheric), the pacing is often sluggish (especially in the second half).  Although the cabaret numbers are more or less integral to the plot, they are sorely missing the panache found in Rififi in the City.  (It is fun seeing Franco cameo as a saxophone player though.)  The revenge plot lacks sizzle and the twists and turns in the third act ring a little hollow.  It also doesn’t help that Rollin makes for a middling villain.  He looks the part all right, but he just doesn’t exude enough menace to make for a worthy adversary in something like this.  Fortunately, Danik Patisson makes a memorable impression as a sultry cabaret singer.  Too bad she isn’t given nearly enough to do.  

Uncle Jess’s signatures are kept to a minimum this time out.  He gives us the requisite number of song and dance sequences and makes a cameo.  That’s about it though.

AKA:  Agent 077:  Operation Jamaica.  AKA:  077:  Operation Sexy.  AKA:  Operation Sexy.

FRANCO FEBRUARY: RIFIFI IN THE CITY (1963) ***

Jess Franco’s Rififi in the City isn’t really a sequel to Jules Dassin’s Rififi, but it does have a vague connection to that classic crime film.  Jean Servais, who was the star of that flick, plays the heavy here.  Also, there is a safecracking scene that plays out without sound or music, although it’s not nearly as long as the caper scene in Rififi.  While the title may have been trying to capitalize on Rififi’s success, Rififi in the City remains an entertaining crime thriller in its own right.  

A lowly stoolpigeon named Juan (Serafin Garcia Vazquez) learns a big-time politician named Leprince (Servais) is secretly the head of the crime syndicate in the city.  Naturally, Leprince has him killed.  Juan’s handler, Mora (Fernando Fernan Gomez), is an upstanding police inspector who flies off the handle when his informant is murdered.  Mora rattles Leprince’s chain and his goons retaliate by beating him up and tossing him in the river.  He recovers and quits the force so he can move freely to get back at Leprince without having to report to his hardened police captain (Antonio Prieto).  Complicating matters is a woman who dresses all in black and goes around the city bumping off Juan’s killers.  Of course, Leprince is number one on her hit list.  

Rififi in the City is a tough, mean, and entertaining little crime picture.  I know I'm biased towards Franco’s horror and sleaze extravaganzas, but even I have to admit, this was a surprisingly classy and respectable affair for Jess.  It serves as proof that Franco could deliver a beautiful looking film if given the proper time, money, and resources.  The camerawork is often interesting, the black and white cinematography is excellent, and some of the compositions of light and shadow are pure film noir.  The strong performances, solid action, and clever twists and turns help make this a crackling thriller.

At one-hundred-and-four minutes, it is a little on the long side.  There’s probably one plot complication and/or needless supporting character too many, but nothing that dramatically gums up the works.  There’s also a lot of padding in the form of calypso-jazz numbers and cabaret song and dance routines.  At least one of these numbers is pretty great though as it features Maria Vincent all dolled up in a sexy matador outfit.  

As far as Jess Franco cinematic trademarks go, there are a few slow, somewhat aimless camera pans.  Gratuitous cabaret numbers are also one of his signatures as well.  Plus, this was the first in-name only sequel he directed.  (See also Ilsa, the Wicked Warden.)

FRANCO FEBRUARY

The Video Vacuum salutes any filmmaker that embraces quantity over quality.  No director better fits that aesthetic than Jess Franco.  The man made hundreds (HUNDREDS) of movies.  Maybe a handful of them are stone-cold classics.  A few of them are amazing works of genre filmmaking.  Many of them are trashy fun.  But LOTS of them are just plain bad.  That’s why we’re devoting this month to Jess Franco.  What kind of Franco funkiness will we be getting this February?  There’s only one way to find out.  

TUBI CONTINUED… BEACH VOLLEYBALL DETECTIVES 2: BOMB AT THE BEACH (2007) ***

The first Beach Volleyball Detectives ended like all great movies do, with our heroes beaten, broken, and licking their wounds from a crushing defeat.  (Okay, so it ended like The Empire Strikes Back.)  This one starts with a ten-minute recap of the original, which is fine by me and/or any likeminded individual who didn’t get enough scenes of sexy bikini-clad Japanese babes playing beach volleyball the first time around.  

This time out, the Beach Volleyball Detectives turn in their badges and go rogue to catch the bad guys.  (Just like in Licence to Kill.)  They eventually learn there is a traitor in their midst who is secretly working for the evil China Volleyball Team.  In order to beat them, our heroines must first face off against the Indian team (who have stretchy limbs like Dhalsim from Street Fighter 2) and the Russians (which is just one girl who can self-replicate).  

Let me get this out of the way before we go any further:  Beach Volleyball Detectives 2:  Bomb at the Beach is not the instant classic the original was.  It's only an hour long, but about half of it is recycled footage from the first movie.  I guess if they wanted to, they could’ve just edited both of them down into one ninety-minute film.  Then again, if they did that, we would’ve been robbed of the original’s great cliffhanger ending.  

While it lacks the non-stop gut-busting humor of the first film, it’s still pretty funny and consistently enjoyable throughout.  It’s basically set in the Rocky 2 mode where everything that happened in the original happens again, except this time the hero wins the rematch.  While that kind of reduces the novelty of the overall enterprise, it still had plenty of scenes of sexy bikini-clad Japanese babes playing beach volleyball to satisfy this discriminating viewer.  I mean, the climactic match features the villainesses serving, setting, and spiking the volleyball with their boobs.  What more do you want from a motion picture?  (If you answered, “Scenes where sexy bikini-clad Japanese babes use magic powers to turn volleyballs into dragons, missiles, and acid rain clouds”, then don’t worry because it has that too.)

AKA:  Beach Volleyball Detectives 2.

TUBI CONTINUED… BEACH VOLLEYBALL DETECTIVES (2007) ****

Beach Volleyball Detectives may be in Japanese, but it was speaking my language all the way through.  There’s nothing I like to see in a motion picture more than sexy bikini-clad girls playing beach volleyball.  The fact the girls in this movie are detectives is just icing on the cake.  Allowing them to use their finely honed volleyball skills to catch bad guys (in one scene, they spike the ball to knock out a terrorist) makes this, in my humble estimation, a fucking classic.  Utilizing a Japanese cover of “Get Off the Road” from Herschell Gordon Lewis’s immortal She Devils on Wheels as the Beach Volleyball Detectives theme song?  Well, I mean, you’re just going after my heartstrings now, aren’t you?  

True art transcends borders, languages, and races.  It brings us all closer together in a spiritual sense and that while we are all unique individuals, there are some films that show us that deep down, we are all the same.  Beach Volleyball Detectives is such a picture.  

A nefarious terrorist is hiding out at the beach volleyball international training headquarters.  Naturally, the sexy bikini-clad Beach Volleyball Detectives enter the tournament to catch him.  Before long, they become unwilling participants in an underground beach volleyball tournament where the losers are sold into sex slavery and/or the organ harvesting black market.  

The opposing teams all have great gimmicks.  The Indian team use the power of yoga during their match, the Russian player is a human Matryoshka doll, and the Chinese supervillains are sexy anti-capitalists.  The matches themselves are a total blast as they play out like a live-action anime (or maybe a video game).  The scenes where the girls use their special moves are particularly a lot of fun.  

Despite what you may think, there’s no nudity here.  Lord knows there were plenty of opportunities during the various shower scenes, locker room scenes, cat fights, etc.  What’s amazing about Beach Volleyball Detectives is that it’s so damned good that it doesn’t need an abundance of T & A to hold your attention.  It’s a lot of fun on its own terms.  I mean, restraint isn’t something I would expect from a movie called Beach Volleyball Detectives, but I’ll be damned if it doesn’t work. 

Look, I’m not saying Beach Volleyball Detectives can cure cancer.  I’m just saying I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if it noticeably shrunk the size and appearance of some tumors in a limited test trial.  It’s that fucking good.

AKA:  Beach Volleyball Detective:  Catch a Peeping Stalker!