DOA: Dead or Alive (2006)

Directed by Corey Yuen
Starring Jaime Pressly, Devon Aoki, Holly Valance
Rated PG-13
USA

“The nanobots were working overtime on that fight.”

DOA is probably the most egregious fuck-up of a license of the past decade. Granted, video game movies in general are almost exclusively egregious fuck-ups of licenses (and time and effort and money). DOA though, oh man, it really takes things one step further. I have no idea if the games are any good, or even the details of the basic plot of said games, but I do know that when you’re presented with a chance to make a movie about women who are invited to go to an island and fight in a tournament, you don’t fuck it up. You make The Lost Empire. It really is that simple.

People going to an island to fight in a tournament is pretty much my favourite genre of film, thanks to efforts like The Lost Empire, and Enter the Dragon, and so on. It’s a fool proof plot device. You don’t even have to work that hard with the characters once you’ve got that bit set up. All you have to do is have some people from different backgrounds who get an invitation and then the guy holding it is a bad guy and there’s awesome fight scenes and then some stuff blows up and everyone goes home. The Jim Wynorski school of film making teaches us that if it happens to be predominately women who are invited, you throw in boobs. Cut. Print. Everyone’s a winner.

A point well worth noting that should tell you everything you need to know about the film: it was written by JF Lawton, who also gave the world Pretty Woman. Also, it was made in 2005, so Junkie XL does the soundtrack and the camera won’t stay still for a single fucking second.

DOA was enough of a stinker that after being completed in 2005, it didn’t even see a release until the next year. And even then, it was only in Australia and New Zealand. And even then, it was really only because it featured Holly Valance (better known locally as bikini-wearer Flick from the long running soap Neighbours, and for that song she did where it looks like she’s naked in the film clip) in her first screen role. In fact, they came up with different, Holly Vallance-centric posters to reflect this. Eventually, in 2007, it managed a release in the US, but it still (even after DVD releases) only made back $7 million of its $21 million budget.

$21 million! Bloody hell. Can you imagine what Jim Wynorski could have done with that kind of money if they’d asked him to make this? He could have made 21 sequels to The Lost Empire and still had change left over. Total fuckin’ waste, man.

To get things started, we’re introduced to the characters. There’s Kasumi (perpetually blank-faced and charisma-free supermodel Devon Aoki), who’s a princess of some kind. Oh and her brother is dead. Helpfully, this is all explained in the first line of the film.

“Princess Kasumi. Your brother is dead. Your destiny is to lead your people,” says servant/friend/whatever Hayabusa (Kane Kosugi, son of ‘80s ninja-superstar Sho Kosugi, who should really know better).

Apparently, if she doesn’t lead her people, they’ll send fearsome purple haired sword-wielder Ayane (Natassia Malthe) after her to kill her. 

Kosumi doesn’t really care and just walks off and then jumps off the castle turret. Fortunately she has a hang-glider and then gets an invite to the tournament in mid-glide.

Meanwhile, Tina (a wretchedly miscast Jaime Pressly) sits on a boat and fights some pirates and also gets an invite.

In Hong Kong, Christie (Holly Valance) wears a towel and is interrogated by an American cop for some reason. Then she fights them while her bra is flicked into the air. Thanks to the wonders of CGI and the idiocy of jumping editing and swishy camera work, it’s apparently possible to make a scene about Holly Valance fighting without a top boring.

Oh and she gets an invite and then some other stuff happens and they get to the island. There’s some brief respite from the terminal dullness when we meet tournament organiser Donovan (Eric Roberts, taking full advantage of the fact that everyone else’s character is lifeless by chewing up every moment of screen time he gets).

He has his staff perform medical exams on everyone and also injects them with nanobots. Or something. Then everyone fights and it looks exactly like a video game.

There’s fucking life bars, man.

There’s even text on screen to let you know who wins each round.

Honestly, 30 minutes in and you’re probably ready to go and do something else or eat a sandwich or some biscuits already. The fight scenes are interminable – the camera is constantly moving and panning and so forth, which makes it impossible to actually get involved.

It doesn’t help that practically every movement is unbelievable, and director Corey Yuen definitely should know better, having cut his teeth on some bland but watchable Hong Kong fare back in the ‘80s and ‘90s. You can pack in wire work, and even touch it up with a little CGI if you must, but there’s got to be a level of believability there to balance it out. For a great example, see Iron Monkey - the ridiculous stuff is the icing, not the whole cake.

Some dialogue scenes are awkwardly mashed in, and it turns out that Kasumi doesn’t really think her brother is dead. “Donovan is lying,” she tells Hayabusa. “He says Leon killed Hayate, above the Buddha head.”

“Why would he lie?” Hayabusa asks.

“I am convinced he's hiding the truth,” she replies.

God damnit. It’s not even funny stupid. It’s just stupid stupid.

Then there’s a beach volley ball game, which is as uninteresting as the fights for exactly the same reason the fights are uninteresting. Also the ball is CGI.

Oh, and there’s a fight in a bamboo forest between Kasumi and Ayane. All it really does is remind you that House of Flying Daggers and Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon were both good films.

Anyway, turns out Donovan is evil and he’s been using the nanobots to record the fighters moves (including Kasumi’s brother, who is alive) so he can upload them into his magic sunglasses. Then he can predict all their moves and become the best fighter in the world and also sell it to other criminals.

$21 million and we end up with magic sunglasses as the major plot device. Fucking unbelievable.

Then there’s a fight and the whole place blows up and all the good guys survive and go home. Sweet merciful ending.

It’s absolutely beyond me how you take a premise like that and turn it into such a flaccid, lifeless horror. Well, actually, I suppose the way you do it is to get the guy who wrote Pretty Woman to write it, but either way, it’s truly awful – every second of it.

Just go and watch The Lost Empire instead.

- Alistair Wallis

Our Miss Fred (1972)

Directed by Bob Kellett
Starring Danny La Rue, Lally Bowers, Frances de la Tour
Rated PG
UK

“Skilled mechanic, accomplished actress – your talents are quite dazzling, Miss Wimbush. Have you anything else tucked away you propose to flash at us?”

The British have a proud tradition of men dressing as women. It’s been going on there since at least Shakespeare’s time, and probably long before. Therefore, it should come as no surprise that Danny La Rue (RIP) was a British national treasure – he was even appointed Officer of the Order of the British Empire in 2002. That may not mean much if you’re from outside the UK (or its colonies) but rest assured: it’s some pretty serious shit. Especially for a self-described “comic in a frock”.

In the ‘60s, La Rue was one of the highest paid entertainers in the country, so it’s a little surprising it took him until 1972 to get around to starring in a film. Either the film wasn’t much of a hit, or movie making just wasn’t his thing, because it’s also the last film he starred in – there was the odd cameo here and there, but it’s likely stage work was always his preference.

That’s a real pity, because he actually comes across remarkably well on screen. Granted, he’s not exactly a star of dramatic acting and mugs and grins his way through practically every scene, as if he’s about to burst out laughing the whole time. He’s super fun to watch, at the very least. That grin is just too irresistible.

La Rue plays Fred Wimbush, a Shakespearean actor conscripted into the army in 1939. Given his experience as an actor, he ends up in France – presumably around mid-May of 1940 – not on the front lines, but rather working as an entertainer for the troops. And playing all the female parts.

He’s not entirely happy with that. “Look at me, dressed like a bird,” he grumbles. “They used to come from miles away to see my Titus Andronicus.”

“Well you better get it out and flash it for that lot out there,” says one of the other actors, “because they're getting very restless.”

Unfortunately, while he’s still in the dressing room, the Germans invade the army base. He runs outside to try and figure out what’s happening – and so as not to be left behind – but they think he’s a woman, and refuse to take him prisoner.

For some reason, the Nazis politely allow him to have a word with the Corporal (Frank Thornton, always and unmistakably Captain Peacock from Are You Being Served?). “Don't ever let on you're a man,” the Corporal says, “you'll be shot as a spy.”

“Shot as a spy nothing, sir, I want my trousers,” replies Fred.

“Damn your trousers!” barks the Corporal. “This is for England!”

So Fred wanders off into the French countryside as the Nazis drive their prisoners away. While trying to escape the amorous approaches of two French men, he’s picked up by Nazi General Brincker (Alfred Marks), who happens to be driving past.

Brincker takes quite a fancy to Fred. “You have everything a woman should have, and more,” he says. Fortunately, there’s a British air attack before things can go much further, and Fred gets the chance to scamper away.

Soon, he comes across two women hiding in the bushes. Miss Flodden (Lally Bowers) and Miss Lockhart (Frances de la Tour, best known recently for appearances in the Harry Potter films) are there with a troop of Girl Guides. Fred’s about to try and explain that he’s really a man, but Miss Flodden isn’t exactly male friendly.

“Soldiers are soldiers Miss Wimbush,” she explains. “Put any male brute in the army, English or German, and he becomes an instant rapist.”

If Fred were a man, she adds, she’d call the Germans onto him herself. So, keeping that fact to himself and giving his name as Frederika, Fred walks back to the barn where the Girl Guides are hiding out. Naturally, they’re all busty young ladies in school uniform. And there’s Fred, having to pretend he’s a woman!

I have no idea who plays which girl, because none of them are ever referred to by name in the film. The blonde one is meant to be Texan, but is clearly British, and does the most wretchedly awful American accent you could imagine.

Turns out they have a car that won’t start. Fred, luckily, is a capable mechanic as well as a Shakespearean actor, so he sets to work fixing it. Some of the girls help.

The others just sit around and watch, and make helpful suggestions. “Shouldn't the car be jacked up a little more?” one asks.

“I think it's going to be, any moment,” Fred mumbles.

Having fixed the car, everyone heads off to bed, with the intention of making an escape from France in the morning. Before he drifts off, though, the girls drag him out to a nearby shed to show him a surprise.

They found a snaggle-toothed Air Force pilot named Smallpiece (Lance Percival) dangling from a tree and they’ve been keeping him hidden from Miss Flodden. Fred manages to catch a moment aside with Smallpiece and explain what’s going on, but there’s some tension between the two, as Smallpiece thinks Fred is a perverted cross-dressing deserter.

Still, that doesn’t stop Smallpiece from coming along when they finally depart in the car (although he’s crammed into the boot, so that Miss Flodder won’t find out about him). Miss Flodder also suggests that everyone dress a little less conspicuously, so while the girls don peasant outfits, Fred dresses like a flamenco dancer. Bound to be inconspicuous in France, that.

In order get to the nearest town, they have to make their way through a Nazi checkpoint. The Germans are suspicious of them – especially Fred’s reluctance to open the boot – but he convinces them that there’s an Englishman somewhere down the road. Miss Flodden is impressed.

“Skilled mechanic, accomplished actress – your talents are quite dazzling, Miss Wimbush,” she raves. “Have you anything else tucked away you propose to flash at us?”

“Not at the moment, no,” replies Fred.

Eventually they arrive at the town. Miss Flodden gets into an argument with a woman at a hotel, who dumps a bucket of water on her. Meanwhile, Fred sneaks into a bathing SS officer’s room and steals his uniform for Smallpiece.

He’s almost caught, and has to quickly change into a maid’s outfit and hit the pursuing Nazi over the head with a tray.

Then they head off to a cottage nearby, where it turns out Miss Flodder has had an onset of malaria because of the water, or something. Miss Flodder is more or less convinced she’s about to die, and starts to make plans for such an occurrence.

“Guard my girls, Miss Wimbush,” she says, while Fred sits patiently listening, still dressed as a maid. “Defend them from the ravishments of men. Get them back to England unblemished. Make sure they have clean knickers every day.”

Fred heads into town to find a doctor, but he ends up captured by Nazis and taken to their commanding officer, who just happens to be General Bincker.

Bincker agrees to let Fred go and get the doctor, but reveals that no one will be allowed out of the town without a pass, which only he has. He also invites Fred out on a lunch date the next day. Fred’s not sure he wants to go, but Smallpiece convinces him it’s the only way out of the town.

Together – with Smallpiece dressed in the stolen SS uniform – they head to the appointed restaurant. Unfortunately, the SS officer Fred stole the uniform from turns up, and Fred has to quickly dash inside to hide, where he somehow gets roped into a fashion show.

Because he’s not on the list, the pianist and MC is unsure what name to use and looks at him expectantly. “Fred,” hisses Fred.

“Como?” says the pianist in surprise.

“Frederika, you berk,” hisses back Fred.

“Ah,” announces the pianist. “Mms. Frederika Euberk.” Classic stuff.

Then there’s quite a long sequence in which Fred wears different dresses. Also, there’s psychedelic kaleidoscope visuals because, I guess, it was the early ‘70s.

Smallpiece and Fred escape after being chased out by Nazis, and Fred ends up having dinner with Bincker instead. Bincker flirts his way through the whole affair. “There can not be many women around like you,” he says.

“Oh, I hope you're right,” replies Fred.

Fred decides that the best way to get the passes is to ensure that Bincker is constantly swilling champagne – not, oddly, to get him drunk, but rather to make him leave the room to pee.

The plan is a success, and the whole crew is back on the road again soon enough. They’re chased by some Nazis on motorbikes briefly, but the girls manage to take care of them with, I dunno, a spray can of cream or fly spray or something.

They all celebrate with a rousing rendition of the old British traditional, ‘Hitler Has Only Got One Ball’. They actually had to cut the song out of the original cinema release in order to maintain the PG rating.

Soon enough, they’re near their goal – an airfield, from which they hope to steal a plane to fly back to Dear Old Blighty. However, they soon find that the Germans have taken over that too. They send the American girl over to see if there’s a way to sneak in, figuring she won’t be taken captive as the Germans aren’t at war with the US.

She doesn’t manage to sneak in, but she does find out that they’re expecting a bus load of prostitutes. She reports that back to Fred and Smallpiece, and Fred quickly formulates a plan to intercept the bus and impersonate the prostitutes in order to gain entry to the airfield. “Just a minute, Wimbush,” says Smallpiece. “Hijacking a busload of tarts is hardly cricket.”

“No sir,” he replies. “It's war.”

Obviously, they make it back to Britain, although the manner in which they do is particularly odd, even considering the rest of the film. It’s all terrifically entertaining though, unfalteringly British and, despite its PG rating, innuendo filled – hardly a shock, given that director Bob Kellett was also responsible for bringing Are You Being Served? to the big screen, as well as numerous other saucy ‘70s British comedies.

But really, it’s all down to the undeniable talent of La Rue, who dominates every scene he’s in – which is all of them – with the grin of a man who can’t believe how much fun he’s having.

As a result, every protest from Fred about having to wear a dress is rendered completely absurd, of course: La Rue can’t hide the fact that he’s loving every minute of it. You wouldn’t want him to either, because each and every smirk and grin means you can’t help but enjoy yourself along with him.

- Alistair Wallis

Scream Queens Illustrated: Swimsuit Sensations & Knockout Workout Double Feature (2010)

Directed by John A. Russo

Starring Melissa Moore, Veronica Carothers, Jasae

Unrated

USA

"It's very physically demanding and perhaps the best shape I've been is when I'm home working with the horses."

Originally released on VHS in 1992, and since thought to be lost (or so the box says), this double bill of ridiculousness makes its triumphant return from oblivion via SRS Cinema. Although the original masters (which were probably just camcorder tapes) have disappeared from their vault (which was probably just the camcorder this was recorded on), SRS has lovingly restored this collection for future generations to enjoy (they ripped the VHS copy and burnt it on a disc).

The premise here harkens back to a time long passed in which people were somehow under the impression that watching sexy workout videos could A) be sexy, and B) be entertaining in any other way than ironically.

Basically, we get a trio of "Scream Queen" movie actresses of whom you've never heard of and have them share their experiences of being an "actress" and how they keep in shape for the "movies" that they are in.

In the interview portions, we get to learn about the ladies interests and stuff. Sadness, confusion and nervous chuckling ensue as we hear the ladies share their dreams, goals and workout routines.

After we hear of the womens struggles to rise to the top of the Straight-To-Video pile, we get to see their routines in all their glory. First, of course is stretching:

Then you gotta do this:

And then this, for some reason.

And lastly, you gotta pump some iron.

So yeah, this isn't really a workout video that's gonna do much for you but get you really good at pooping without a toilet (see relevant photo above) or frustratedly wondering who stole all the porn from your porno, but its still a pretty sweet time (for all the wrong reasons, of course.)

Without a doubt, Scream Queens Illustrated is totally lame in a lot of ways (hell, both features are just the same video clips re-edited), which is really the only reason it was re-released, but for a laid back evening of surreal VHS flashbackery (which actually feels a lot like a good cold syrup buzz), Scream Queens Illustrated will fit the bill nicely.

- Jeremy Vaca

Weather Woman (1995)

Directed by Tomoaki Hosoyama
Starring Kei Mizutani, Takashi Sumida, Yasuyo Shirashima, Saori Taira
Rated X
Japan

“God! She's got no knickers on! That's what I call a woman!”

Based on the adult manga series ‘Weather Report Girl’, Weather Woman (known as Otenki-oneesan in Japan) was a straight to video affair when first released. However, after showings at numerous film festivals – including awards at the Stockholm and Oslo International Film Festivals – it was pulled from the shelves and given a proper theatrical release in 1996. It ended up being one of the highest grossing films in Japan that year. It’s also, in that great tradition of Japanese film, totally batshit insane: a sex and violence filled live-action cartoon, with martial arts, magic, songs and nudity galore.

Plus, as a bonus, it functions reasonably well as a satire of the nature of ratings and celebrity. I even had a media studies teacher who claimed it was his favourite film around the time it came out, so that must mean it’s clever. Well, maybe.

Things start as all good films should – with the main character dressed in high school uniform masturbating on a roof top.

It’s not really clear what Keiko Nakadai (Japanese softcore queen Kei Mizutani) is doing up there, but it’s not really important either. Watching her – again, for some unexplained but unimportant reason – is Minoru Yamagishi (Takashi Sumida), a classmate who is totally obsessed with her.

He interrupts to confess his love to her, so she jump kicks him in the head. “You're the first woman I could give my life to!” he exclaims.

“Alright,” she replies. “Jump off the building.”

He climbs to the edge, but can’t quite bring himself to do it, so Keiko jumps off first, telling him to follow. A pole gets struck by lightning while he watches her fly off and then the opening credits roll.

The action cuts to a few years later – Minoru is flipping burgers for a living, while Keiko is masturbating in a cubicle in a flashy TV station office building.

Regular weather woman Michiko Kawai (Saori Taira) is off sick, so Keiko is set to fill in for her. She reads through the weather demurely and politely, until she gets to the end of it.

“In Sapporo 40cm of snow fell,” she says, stepping out from behind the desk. “As my skirt is 10cm above the knee, 40cm will be...this high!”

Minoru, who’s watching from a ramen shop, is stunned. Then the whole city goes bananas for Keiko. She’s on the front page of the newspaper, and copies are selling like some kind of heated cake product.

Unsurprisingly, she’s brought in to face the station’s board of directors, although she arrives late. Also she flips into the room.

“What have you been doing?” one of them asks.

“Masturbating, actually,” she replies calmly. “A part of my morning routine.”

She goes on to point out that the ratings are the best the station has seen in some time. The chairman of the board enters the conversation and gives Keiko his blessing. There’s a little argument from the rest of the board, but he silences it quickly. “Don’t you like panties?” he asks.

Keiko is given her own executive suite, and then sings a song.

Minoru helps bring some of her furniture in, then proceeds to hide while she goes off to do her panty-flashing weather segment.

This time, she’s being watched by ousted weather woman Michiko and her boyfriend, Masao (Kunihiro Ida). “She’s not bad,” he says. She gets whiney, so he promises to find a way to get her the position back. Then he feeds her cold jelly noodles from his mouth while wearing just a towel.

Keiko finishes her segment and begins to berate one of the station’s workers for leaving her with such an austere corridor to walk down on her way to the executive suite. So he fixes it up.

She flips down it to her suite. When she gets there, she masturbates in the bath for a bit, then begins to organise her chest full of sex toys in a display cabinet.

Before she can get through more than one handful of toys, Minoru pops out and once again declares his love for her. She tells him to jump off the roof, then jump kicks him in the head.

Meanwhile, Michiko and Masao are in bed, both dressed in girl’s school uniforms. He’s also wearing some kind of miner’s lamp headset. He tells her it’s because he works for an ad agency and knows all the top trends, which she seems pleased about. “You and I are creating a new era right now,” he mumbles, checking out her feet with the lamp while rubbing her butt.

“Oh, Masao?” she says suddenly. “I'm having my period now. Is dry humping okay?”

Next day, the two of them are at a restaurant, talking with one of Masao’s bosses. He promises to do what he can to get Michiko her job back. She’s a little concerned that it might make things worse for her, but it’s not long until they get a phone call telling them to come to Keiko’s suite.

Unfortunately, when they get there, Keiko’s well and truly taken control of the situation.

It definitely makes things worse for Michiko. Not only does Keiko make the ad executive bark at them while riding his back, she orders him to come up with an “interesting new program” for Michiko to host.

And so, Michiko ends up hosting ‘Hello, Mr Pervert!’. The first episode is about an enema enthusiast. Michiko has to hold the washbasin in order to catch the, erm, exiting fluids, but doesn’t quite get the angle right.

Meanwhile, the network chairman’s daughter, Kaori Shimamori (Yasuyo Shirashima) catches some of the media frenzy about Keiko on TV while she’s over in France. She’s incensed because the entire reason she’d been sent over there was to learnt how to be the best weather woman ever, so she immediately heads back to Japan. “She looks like the girl who spilt milk on my lunchbox at school,” Kaori rages to an assistant at the airport. “Unforgivable!”

She yells at her father – who’s busy putting together a Keiko jigsaw puzzle – but he’s not about to fire the network’s biggest star without a reason. So Kaori hatches a plot: Michiko will serve as Keiko’s maid in order to dig up dirt. Mercifully, in exchange, ‘Hello, Mr Pervert!’ will be cancelled.

So, this time, when Keiko finishes her segment and flips down a corridor of half-naked men, Michiko is waiting for her. She explains that she’s the new maid, and the two of them end up in the bathroom. Michiko is just about to begin sponging Keiko off after her bubble bath when she’s stopped. “Doing it like that might damage my skin,” says Keiko. “Use your tongue instead.”

So she does.

Things take a turn for the worse the next day though. Keiko’s segment is dropped after a breaking news story comes in at the last minute: a self-confessed Keiko fan robbed a young girl of her ice cream. Keiko seethes at the humiliation of being bumped off air, while Kaori smirks upstairs in the control room.

Next day, the police ask Keiko and the station chairman to tone down the segment. And so, she reads the weather politely, dresses conservatively, and stands behind her desk the whole time.

Not that this changes anything in her executive suite.

However, not only is Kaori concocting news stories – she’s watching and taping the lesbian action in the bathroom too. The next night, she gets the tape put to air mid way through Keiko’s segment, and Keiko’s career is ruined. “This old man really enjoyed seeing you flash your panties...” says the chairman, mournfully.

Kaori steps in as weather woman, and begins to plan a weather report that will be more than a segment – it’ll be it’s own show. Michiko still has to work as a maid though.

But Keiko hasn’t given up yet. She enlists the help of Minoru, and the two of them go off to a hut in the forest to train with the legendary Heavenly Whip, which Keiko has tracked down in an effort to defeat Kaori.

Apparently, the training involves hanging Keiko from the roof while Minoru whips her. Seems valid.

Eventually, the training is complete, and Keiko – in blonde wig and an outfit made by Minoru – crashes the debut of Kaori’s new show.

What follows is battle of the weather women, complete with magic, martial arts and also two commentators. It’s almost crazy enough to make the rest of the film look sane in comparison.

Despite (or maybe in addition to) its rampant insanity, Weather Woman is a truly great film. It shoots for an absurd number of genres – comedy, satire, martial arts, softcore, occasional musical – and somehow manages to succeed on every front.

Plus, it all moves at such a pace that it’s never for a single moment of its very economical 85 minutes boring; and even if it were, there’s enough sex, violence, laughs and nudity to keep things entertaining. Easily, and highly, recommended.

- Alistair Wallis

Bikini Summer (1991)

Directed by Robert Veze
Starring Melinda Armstrong, David Millbern, Kelli Konop
Rated R
USA

“Chester and his friends seem like fine, responsible young adults.”

Bikini Summer is not a film of many surprises. In fact, the most surprising thing about Bikini Summer is the fact that it took until 1991 for someone to make a film called Bikini Summer. Bikini Summer is about as generic a beach sex comedy as you could possibly make – and with all the fluoro bikinis and bleached blonde hair going around in 1991, you could make a very generic beach sex comedy indeed.

That’s not necessarily a bad thing, mind you. Not every film needs to be filled with intratextual meta-referencing. Really, given the complete hash of that sort of thing most films tend to make, it might be better if very fewer films even attempted it. Luckily, Bikini Summer is so straight-forward that you could probably lay out the plot right now without even having to be told what it is.

It’s about bikinis. In summer.

It does, in its favour, look particularly good. That’s very likely less to do with one-time writer and director Robert Veze than it is to do with cinematographer Ken Blakey. The film was his first full-length feature after leaving the world of fashion and glamour photography, and it shows. Girls in bikinis are filmed in unbelievable, graphic close-up, with stringently careful lighting. If there was a blu-ray version, it’d blow your fucking mind, man.

Later on, things get a little less careful and more gloomily lit, as if the producers were running out of money and time. “Fuck the lighting and get this thing in the can, Blakey! We gotta ship this VHS out to video shops tomorrow!”

Anyway, there’s plenty of movie before the gloom sets in. The credit sequence alone features more jiggling and jogging bikini clad girls than some lesser sex comedies.

Sadly, it’s all a dream. Absurdly blue-eyed, good natured slacker Chet (David Millbern, Slumber Party Massacre) has been asleep, and wakes to this:

Old Mr Patterson, whose beach front property Chet and his friends are house-sitting and repainting over the summer, is going through the virtues of horizontal brush strokes versus vertical brushstrokes when using oil based paints. His wife, by the way, is played by Katherine Victor (RIP), star of The Wild World of Batwoman.

Chet rushes them out the door – and throws their bags after them. While they’re packing the car, Mrs Patterson says something you should really never say in a sex comedy: “Chester and his friends seem like fine, responsible young adults.” It’s like the antics and mayhem equivalent of saying Candyman into the mirror.

Back inside, Chet has lost his camera, which proves a convenient chance to introduce the rest of the characters. There’s annoying preachy environmentalist Richie (Alex Smith), rock and roll chick Jazz (Shelley Michelle), bikini designer Renee (Kelli Konop), blonde hottie Cheryl (Melinda Armstrong) and, last but not least, burping but otherwise silent fat party dude Mad Dog (Kent Lipham, RIP).

Even at this early point, you can already safely assume that Renee will end up making out with Chet and also wear a bikini by the end of the film, because she’s blonde and wears glasses.

Chet and his camera head for the beach, and so do Richie and Cheryl, though they all do so separately; it’s a segmented kinda film like that. Richie annoys innocent people by preaching about the dangers of UV rays and – bizarrely, given his environmental stance – handing out fliers to everyone he sees. Chet meets some girls and convinces them to pose for him, but forgets to take the lens cap off.

Cheryl meets a muscly guy with white shorts and a mullet named Brad. “Hi. I’m Brad,” he says gruffly. He asks her out to a party later on, and she accepts.

Also on the beach are requisite sex comedy nerds Larry (Thom DeLorenzo) and Gary (Tommy Heisler). Larry has, hands down, the funniest lines in the entire film, and says all of them in this single clip. Then he remains woefully underused for the next hour.

Incidentally, the girl they’re checking out is porn star Missy Warner, who had a similar beach related cameo in Bikini Car Wash Company.

Meanwhile, Jazz has just found a new rehearsal room for her all girl hard rock band, Jailbait. They’re renting a room in a warehouse from a sleazy landlord named Max (Ken Davitian), who looks very much like two Dom DeLuises jammed into an office chair.

Chet finds some more girls to photograph, and while he manages to run out of film, things do take a turn for the saucy. “Listen,” one of them says, “this is okay and everything, but if we could go back to your studio, we could do some really sexy stuff.”

He immediately heads out and buys $200 worth of studio equipment in anticipation of the girls coming over the next morning.

Richie continues to find more people to annoy. First he scares off poor Missy Warner by jabbering on about bacteria in sand. Then he finds two more girls to annoy, but it turns out they’re smarter than him.

They anticipate everything he’s got to say on numerous topics, including rainforests, dolphins, UV rays and native Americans. He gets bored of being made to look stupid, so he wanders off and manages to find a protest. Seems like someone is planning on building condominiums or something.

There’s only six people there and no one around to watch, but Richie joins in with enthusiasm anyway. However, it’s not long before the cops arrive to break things up, along with the local assistant DA, Rachel Greene (Rebekah Alfred). You can safely assume that she’ll also end up in a bikini by the end of the film because she wears glasses and is played by someone who spells Rebecca with a ‘k’ and an ‘h’.

Richie’s all for hanging around, but protest organiser and white bearded hippy Moondog (Michael Silverback) isn’t having a bar of it. “Listen,” he says. “I spent half the ‘60s in the slammer. I missed Woodstock. I missed Monterey. I don’t plan on missing the ‘90s.”

Sadly Richie can’t take a hint and ends up getting himself arrested. Renee bails him out and tells him that she can’t afford to do it again, but he just keeps mumbling about having to save the beach.

If Moondog knew the kind of music he was going to have to put up with for the rest of the decade, he probably wouldn’t have been so worried. As if to make that exact point, Jailbait’s rehearsal continues and Jazz sings a song with some of the most wretched lyrics outside of my high school notebooks: “Justice is blind, and you got cash/If you don’t, your head they’ll bash/Mr Bush does not tax the rich/Isn’t that sort of a bitch?”

Having perfected that number, one by one they celebrate with an after rehearsal shower. Max has a peephole installed in his office for just that sort of occasion, and we get to sit through each of them in there while he cackles away.

They eventually find out and go and confront him and then go home or something.

Meanwhile, Cheryl is at the party, but can’t find Brad. Turns out he’s up in one of the bedrooms banging some other girl. “C’mon Cheryl, be cool,” he says. “Cheryl, don’t be a downer.”

She doesn’t seem to think that’s a reasonable request, so she goes and gets hammered. Next morning, she wakes up on a deck chair by the pool, then strips off and goes for a swim.

Then we get five minutes of slow motion, fully naked splashing around. It’s pretty spectacular.

After she gets out, she finds out that she’s been watched the whole time by a piano playing guy named Bert Harden (Carmen Santa Maria) who appears to have stolen Bobby Dall from Poison’s hair.

He tries to explain that he was inspired by her nudity to finally finish the song he was writing, but she’s not into it and storms out.

Chet’s having more luck. The girls arrive for the photo session, only to find that they don’t have anything proper to wear. So Chet borrows two of Renee’s designs.

This turns out to be such an inspiringly good idea he becomes a silhouette.

Also a fancy backdrop and a water feature appear.

Or maybe that bit is a dream. Who knows. Anyway, when he next speaks to Renee (in the totally dark lounge room with everyone else) she’s despondent because she thinks her bikinis have been stolen. Nope – Chet’s sold them to the girls for double the price.

This leads him to come up with an idea: they should hold a bikini contest. Renee could sell her designs to the entrants, and Chet could take pictures! And they could use the money to save the beach! And Jazz’s shitty band could play! And Cheryl could wear a bikini! And Mad Dog could drink beer!

So they do just that.

Richie invites Missy Warner and the smart girls who made him look bad.

And Cheryl takes an invite to Bert’s, while wearing a sling bikini.

Then it’s time for the contest! Sadly, it’s the kind of gloomily lit part of the film, but nonetheless. Even Missy Warner enters, although she complains to Renee about her bikini in the dressing room. “There just seems to be so much fabric...”

Unfortunately, they’ve barely finished going through the contestants when the assistant DA and the cops show up, along with sleazy landlord and apparent condo developer Max. Renee defends her bikinis to the DA in an admirably eloquent fashion.

But will they get to continue the party? Will Renee end up wearing a bikini and making out with Chet? Will the DA wear a bikini? And hey wait, weren’t they meant to be painting a house or something?

Predictably, the answer to all four questions is yes, but the manner in which it all comes together is brilliantly and insanely coincidental, and provides the movie’s few surprises. It’s generic, segmented and silly, but Bikini Summer is still a lot of fun. It’s far from the best beach sex comedy, but it’s a long way from the worst too.

- Alistair Wallis