A degenerate (and really sweaty!) creep with a mother fixation is stalking and slashing the working girls of the City of Angels! And only one grizzled cop, haunted by his past, but having a soft spot for sexy sex workers can make the streets safe again for six inch heels and tube tops, earning him the everlasting admiration of whores and johns alike!
But can he overcome his demons and the shocking truth of who the sleazy serial killer is or will the hookers on the Strip have to permanently trade in their their bustiers for the special steel threaded top he gives to the hooker he uses as bait to lure the killer out of hiding? All of us horny dudes, except for the geeks at Renaissance fairs who don’t mind their wenches dressed in chain mail armor, are certainly rooting for Detective Jake! Continue reading “Roots of Evil (1992)”
You’re a successful architect babe, working in the skyscraper you’ve designed, but something is missing. No, I’m not talking about an emergency exit that could actually be used in an emergency, though that would have been nice considering the circumstances. What’s really missing is what is always missing with these supposedly empowered ladies – a prince charming to take her away from her ivory tower. And how do I know that? Because I’m some male chauvinist piggie? Nope, she tells us this in the voiceover at the beginning of the movie as she writes it in her diary! Continue reading “Lower Level (1991)”
I imagine that Way Down Cellar is something of a failure since I was more interested in how Beans and Skeeter’s hapless flag football team, the Jets, finished up the season than I was in the intrigue surrounding the crabby old man who was staying in the old Burton House (the same house is also seen in For the Love of Willadean) and doing mysterious things down in the basement. It’s especially difficult to work up any enthusiasm for a bunch of crooks who get outsmarted by a couple of kids that can’t even manage to execute a simple running play during the game they get shut out of in the opening moments of the film. Continue reading “Way Down Cellar (1968)”
Let me disabuse you of the notion straightway that the titular treasure is anything awesome. As near as I could tell, it was mostly a bunch of crusty crap pulled up from the wreckage of an old ship. Various vases and pots that for all any of us know might have just been a bunch of leftover junk no one wanted. Did anyone confirm whether the ship’s manifest indicated it was on a voyage to the local shipyard’s giant yearly garage sale? Still, it was a bunch of baracled bric-a-bac a whole team of thieves were willing to kill for, so maybe it cleaned up real nice. Continue reading “The Treasure of San Bosco Reef (1968)”
This movie really gave me pause about the wisdom of my daughter’s goal to be a crack house whore when she grows up. There’s of course the beatings and belt whippings that Jim Brown’s Steadman character administers, the hot showers he forces you to take because nobody likes a stinky ass crack house whore, and the gang bang from Steadman’s crew that awaits you once Steadman tires of brutalizing you. All of that though is pretty much what you’re signing up for, right? And besides, you’re getting all the narcotics you can use, so it’s not like you’re doing it for free. Continue reading “Crack House (1989)”
For those hoping that The Boy Who Stole the Elephant is like an Anarchist’s Cookbook for how to make off with circus animals, you will likely be underwhelmed with little British orphan boy Davey’s scheme to spirit away his soulmate, Queenie. He simply walks out of the circus tent with her in the middle of the night! While there is a certain genius in the simplicity of this plan, he didn’t count on one thing – James Bond’s biggest toothache of them all, Jaws! Continue reading “The Boy Who Stole the Elephant (1970)”
There’s a lot of risks being cryogenically frozen with the intent of being thawed out years later once your medical issues can be resolved. Your disease might never be treatable. The cryo unit may malfunction or the facility may go out of business. You might even get damaged when you get defrosted and suffer some heinous side effects like split ends. Caroline Carmichael at least had no worries in that department because she woke up with the most luxurious 1970s hair this side of Farrah Fawcett! (Now that’s what I call a scientific advance!) Continue reading “Live Again, Die Again (1974)”