Back to the Beach (1987)

Back to the Beach (1987)
Directed by Lydell Hobbs
Starring Annette Funicello, Frankie Avalon, Lori Loughlin
Rated PG
USA

"What the hell is a kahuna, anyway? And is it good to have a big one?"

Annette Funicello and Frankie Avalon were the stars of the wildly popular Beach Party movies from the early to mid 1960's, and have come to represent the boundless optimism of those post-war boom years. Annette was the top-heavy virgin goddess and Frankie was her surfer-king dreamboy, and their G-rated fantasies were played out on the scorching sands of Malibu Beach to the beat of thumping rock n' roll. But every summer ends, and by the late 60's, Frankie and Annette went their separate ways. Annette's most high profile gig after the beach party movies was as a TV spokeswoman for Skippy peanut butter and Frankie, well who knows? And that's the premise of Back to the Beach. Released at a time when the baby-boomers who came of age in the early 60's were now settling in middle-age and feelign nostalgic for theit idyllic youth, the film presents us with an alternate universe what if: what if Frankie and Annette were actually their characters in the movies, and it was a couple decades later? Where would they be? What would they be doing? Would Frankie still be the king of the beach? And would Annette still fill out a one-piece so perfectly after gulping down all that peanut butter? Let's find out!

It's 24 years since their first beach party together, and Frankie AKA the Big Kahuna and Annette are married and they have an asshole teenager who explains the story so far. His name is Bobby (Damian Slade), and he's dressed more like the leather dude from the Village People, but I think he's supposed to be a punk rocker. Anyway, somewhere after the beach party movies, Frankie had a surfing accident, and he's afraid to go back into the water. Instead, he moved the family to Ohio and now he owns a car dealership. They live in one of those 1950's space-age houses and Annette gobbles peanut butter all day, you know, because of the TV commercials. As our story opens, Bobby is getting his lunch from mom, and he is not happy about what's in it. She's gone completely batty with the goddamn peanut butter. It's all they eat. There's jars stacked everywhere.

So, mom's gone insane, dad's stressed out from work, Junior is on the edge. Time for a vacation! So the family heads to Hawaii!

But first they have to stop off in LA to see their daughter, Sandy. Sandy? We'll find out about her in a minute, first roll the neon 80's credits and the neon 80's Eddie Money theme song! We're gonna catch a ride on a wave all over the world!



At LAX. Annette runs into OJ Simpson, who appears to be in a big hurry. You know, from those commercials. And also because he might've just murdered somebody.

So Sandy (Lori Laughlin) is living with some surfer creep named Michael and she hasn't told her folks yet because dad won't like it. So this surprise visit is really gonna open up a can of worms unless she thinks fast!

Frankie uses Bobby's head to bust the door down, but Mike gets out just in time.

Frankie figures it out though and he and Bobby head out to go find the guy and kill him. On the way, they run into a post-apocalyptic surfer gang, but even though Frankie knocks over their surfboards and goofs on their hair, they let him go. Some gang.

And then Frankie just gives up and they go shopping. Later on, they drop Sandy off at her job at Daddy-o's on their way back to the airport to catch their flight.

Annette insists that they go in because their old pal, Dick "King of Surf" Dale is playing, so what the hell, they go in. Frankie runs into Ed "Kookie" Burns, a reference lost to almost everybody at this point.

Annette gets hit on by some sleazy dude in a mesh shirt, which really pisses Frankie off. He demands they get the fuck out of there, but on their way out, he runs into his old flame Connie Stevens. She starts smooching up on him, and that really throws a monkey wrench into the works.

Turns out she has a Big Kahuna shrine in the bar. That's not too weird, is it?

Connie insists Frankie sings a song before he leaves. And so he does. Frankie and Dick Dale and Connie all rock out to a really terrible, really 80's rendition of California Sun. Dick Dale's hair is fucking crazy in this.



Because of all the carrying-on, they end up missing their flgiht to Hawaii. Annette's pissed and Frankie's pissed, and then he says he's going back to Ohio, and she tells him to fuckin' go, she's staying to hang out with Sandy and have some goodtimes. So Sandy kicks Michael out, and mom and Bobby move in. Sandy is not entirely sure this is the best idea, but what the fuck, she can do better. That guy is no big Kahuna.

Meanwhile, back at Daddy O's, Frankie is having a few drinks, and he notices that the bartender looks very familiar.

Back at Sandy's, they have a goddamn pajama party. More of a lingerie party, really. With dancing and mutant surf punks.

After a long night of drinking, Frankie wakes up in surf shack where, ironically enough, he meets Michael, who gives him the Keith Richards hangover cure (Coca Cola, instant coffee, and Alka Seltzer), and then politely informs him about his intentions for Frankie's daughter.

Frankie's first instinct is to kill him, but he's too hungover, so they try and work things out. Later on, in an unsuspected twist - spoiler alert! - we find out that Michael is Connie's son!

Also, meanwhile, Bobby joins the surfpunk gang. You might think, why would they let a poser like him join? Because he has his dad's American Express gold card! Surf punk partytime!

And then out of nowhere, Annette does a ska tune with Fishbone. It's better than Frankie's song, but the dancing is very complicated.



But listen, forget the dancing, we have three to four relationships to repair here. First off, Frankie finds out Michael paints surfboards, so he agrees to go into business with him. Problem solved there. But how do the fellas patch things up with the girls? Frankie has the solution: beach party. That always worked in 1964! Problem is, the harbormaster won't give out permits for night-time parties on the beach. But Frankie's got a plan. Incidentally, at this point, they're back at Daddy-O's and now Stevie Ray Vaughn is playing with Dick Dale, and his hair is even poofier than it was before.


Hey, that harbormaster looks familiar!

The fellas trick the harbormaster into thinking the party is in his honor, so now it's on! And it's working great! Michael and Sandy get back together, no sweat, But Annette goes looking for Frankie, and he's goofin' around with that housewrecker Connie. To make him jealous, Annette goes matte-screen surfing with Troy-the-asshole.  She looks pretty foxy in her hot pink surfer suit.

Anyways, Frankie fuckin' punches his lights out. Which makes Annette mad, but not really. Then she stomps over to Connie to give her the business, but Connie straightens her out. And also compliments her on her tits. They get mentioned alot in this movie.

So she takes her advice and then they make up and make out and everybody is happy. The end. I mean, it seems like the end, but then Pee Wee Herman shows up and performs Surfin' Bird! The 80's version, so he throws in some "radicals" and "gnarlys".  He's not very good at lip synching. And everybody gets on stage and dances with him! And then he gets on a flying surfboard, and ascends into heaven! What a party, the end.


But wait, can we really end the movie without Frankie getting over his fear and surfing again?

No, we can't, so he tells his goddamn story.

But then the mood is shattered by Bobby, who is now the king of the surf punks, because he bought them all dune buggies. He shows up to the ruin the shindig, but everybody just laughs at him, because he's an idiot. But as Frankie points out, we do have a territorial despute, so they'll have to surf for the beach. Michael versus the surf puhk dude. Except Frankie accidentally breaks Mike's foot, so now they're gonna lose the beach to the creeps unless..unless Frankie can get over his fear and surf again! Can he do it?

Of course not, he's a middle-aged car salesman. They get on the next flight back to Ohio. Fuck the beach.

Or do they? We will not reveal the shocking, but I will say this: the Beaver is involved.

In 1987, this was considered satire. We live in an age of sarcasm and snark and ill-will now, so you can't even tell that they were shooting for 'edgy' here, because at this point, it seems just as good-natured and fun-loving as the original beach party movies did. And that's good, because we need to be reminded once in a while that there is genuine joy out there to be had, and it may only be a conga line away.

Packed with fun cameos and goofy musical interludes and corny gags and good vibes, Back to the Beach is everything you'd hope a Frankie and Annette reunion would be. Except maybe for an Annette wardrobe malfunction. You don't get that. They didn't have those yet in the 80's. Anyway, goodtimes and not a hassle for miles.


- Ken McIntyre

PS: Listen to the MAG gang discuss Back to the Beach on Episode 169 of the Movies About Girls podcast!

Beach House (1982)

Beach House (1982)
Directed by John Gallagher
Starring Ileana Seidel, John Cosola, Kate McNeil, Dana Nathan
Rated PG
USA 

"C'mon Cindy, lets get Freudian. Loosen your mandible. "

This is the debut film from John Gallagher (sadly, not the dude from Raven), who has gone on to have a reasonably successful career as an indie producer/director in NYC. My guess is, he keeps this one off of his promotion reel. Ostensibly a free-wheeling 80’s T&A beach comedy, this (I’m assuming) largely improvisational, extremely low-budget time-waster seems more like a collection of grubby home movies made by stoned goofballs. It’s outsider cinema, like a hetero John Waters with really lame friends. Still, it casts a mesmerizing spell, like some kind of fucked-up dream that you can’t quite remember, but can’t quite shake out of your head, either.

An assorted, mis-matched collection of kooks, creeps, cretins, and gum-snapping hussies from Brooklyn head to Ocean Cityon on the Jersey shore for a week of fun in the sun. They end up sharing a house with a pseudo-punk band from Philadelphia who, inexplicably, hang out with a bunch of stuck-up preppy types. Some of these people are teenagers, but a couple of the guys look about 35. It’s nearly impossible to tell who is who. No one, as far as I can tell, is an actual actor. I'm pretty sure it's just a bunch of locals getting wasted on a cheap beer and rag weed and making a "movie."  The mugging is pretty incredible, particularly from frizzy haired Cecile (one-time actress Ileana Seidel), the crass Brooklyn chick who bounces constantly and says stuff like, "Honey, I was your age when I was 12."

There’s no plot to speak of, just one meandering “party” scene after another. And even though the set-ups are pretty standard, the results are always weird and awkward to watch. For example, the gang takes a trip to Phil's Disco Inferno where they guzzle booze and dance to Plastic Bertrand, which seems perfectly reasonable for 1982, but then they head for the Boardwalk to do a barbershop quartet routine. Haha, what?

Later on, some big fucker named Marty (Al Wheatley, who also never acted again) walks into the Brooklyn pad and starts hitting on the chicks. It's entirely possible that he actually just wandered in off the street, completely unaware that a movie was being made. One of the girls (Angela? They might all be named Angela) tells him to fuck off, and he says, "Hey, I was just trying to be gregarious,” and then he leaves. And that's the whole scene.

The Brooklyn gang and the punk/preppies mingle at the beach and the alpha-preppy chick, Cindy (Kate McNeil, House on Sorority Row),  invites our scraggly heroes to their 4th of July 'turkey and tequila' (what?) party because she's got a crush on Anthony (they might all be named Anthony), but it quickly descends into a booze/fist/food fight. No one wins. Everybody is a loser at the Turkey and Tequila party.

All the fellas end up getting arrested, although they couldn't find an actual police station to shoot the scene. I think it's actually the coat room at the Elks club or something.

The next morning, they decide to play softball to hash out their differences, but quit halfway through because Baby (Paul Anderson), the perpetually stoned 40 year old they hang out with, wants a drink. And that's how the scene ends. It is entirely possible that the scene ended because the guy who plays Baby really did want a drink.

Did  I mention that there's a guy named Snookie who looks like Howard Stern and acts like Bowzer from Sha Na Na? Well, there is. Incidentally, Snookie was portrayed by Eddie Brill, who went on to be David Letterman's warm-up guy.

So anyway, a couple inter-group romances develop, which naturally causes friction between the two groups. To blow off some steam, Cindy wanders over to the amusement park after hours and starts riding the merry go round, which is inexplicably running all by itself.

Turns out its Marty stalking her behind the scenes. He chases her into a dark tunnel, presumably to rape her, while Anthony and her brother desperately search for her. Holy fuck, did this movie take a dark turn! Luckily, Anthony shows up and saves the day.

And then everybody goes to the beach to make out and dance to the band, who perform, right there, in the sand, with no electrical outlets in sight. It says The Pleasantville Music Shop on their bass drum, but I have no idea if that's the name of the band, or where they rented the drums. Anyway, it's a good party. The end. Really. The whole thing is over in a merciful 75 minutes.

You know, I think if you watched this drunk with a bunch of your snarky friends, this would probably seem like the greatest movie ever made. Stone cold sober, it’s a head-scratcher. This is definitely the lowest-budget, shot-on-film, non-porn 80’s teen-romp I’ve seen, cheaper even than woeful softcore Archie rip-off Hot Times, and it doesn’t even deliver on the basic T&A goods. Nobody gets naked, and even if they did, the entire cast has a ‘real people’ vibe, so you’d  probably be disappointed if they did (although Ileana does have a Linda Lovelace-y appeal).

There are no real jokes, just a lot of puns and forced slang, there’s no character development, and no acting, just people spouting lines. The picture is grimy and grainy, the lighting is non-existent, and the sound mix is muddy. For all intents and purposes, Beach House should be thoroughly unwatchable, but still, there’s something hypnotic about it. It seems sorta mysterious, like maybe we’re peeping in somebody’s private stash of long-gone goodtimes, like perhaps this was never meant for our eyes, it was meant for Snookie and Googie and whoever to reel up and project on a sheet in their basement every twenty years to remember when they were young-ish and free and the Jersey shore was an exotic wonderland where anything could happen. As an actual movie, something you would pay to go see and sit through in a theater, Beach House is ridiculous. But as a hazy, bizarre artifact from a weirder time, it’s sorta spellbinding. You ever hear a Shaggs record? Same thing here. I kinda wanna watch it again, and I kinda wanna never see it again as long as I live. Ding?

- Ken

Stacey says:

It's entirely possible that the majority of  Beach House was improvised. The "actors" appear to have been given an extremely loose plot line and been told to riff. It's also possible that MTV got the idea for the Jersey Shore from this "reality show" before it's time.

 This movie is terrible and awesome at the same time. At first, I kind of wanted to shut it off, but kept watching... it was crazy! The dudes are mostly off-putting and the girls are kind of annoying, but somehow it all works. I am with Ken on this one... Ding?

The Beach Girls (1982)

Directed by Bud Townsend 
Starring Debra Blee, Jeana Tomasina, Val Kline 
Rated R
USA

"We deserve a party. We need a party." 

Director Bud Townsend (RIP) does not have a particularly long or wide-ranging resume, but most of the films he made have been memorable: 1969's gruesome Nightmare in Wax, 1972's creaky haunted house flick Terror House (starring Russ Meyer girl Janet Wood), the frequently amazing Alice in Wonderland: An X-Rated Musical Fantasy (1976), breezy high school sex comedy Coach, starring Cathy Lee Crosby (1978), and of course his career high, The Beach Girls. Lost in the shuffle of bikini-romps during its initial release and unfairly obscure even now, The Beach Girls is quintessential 80's T&A cinema, a virtually plotless series of lightweight antics wholly dedicated to laughs and boners, and nothing else. The Beach Girls has no underlying message, no hidden agenda. It assumes you like boobs and watching nerds getting socked in the nuts, and that's exactly what it gives you.

The credit sequence sets us up nicely for a goofy summer romp. Slo-mo volleyball, slo-mo big-boobs frisbee, slo-mo aerobics, slo-mo running across the beach in bikinis (plus one fat girl for comedic effect). A surfing nun. Some late-stage roller disco. One topless stroller who causes a guy to squeeze his hot dog so tight the mustard shoots out. A dog who steals bikini tops. A female bodybuilder. Some chick riding a horse on the beach. All of it to set to a cheeseball Beach Boys rip-off tune by Arsenal, who do not sound like you'd think a band called Arsenal would sound like.

Into this paradise of jiggling flesh drives Sarah (Debra Blee), a petite, top-heavy brunette who wears helicopter pilot glasses and high-waisted jeans. She's come to stay at her uncle Carl's beach house for the summer. Sadly, the only person around to keep her company is the creepy, peeping-Tom groundskeeper. That won't last for long though, because vivacious redhead Ducky (Jeana Tomasina) and party-blonde Ginger (Val Kline) are barreling down the road in a convertible, picking up dreamy hitchhikers, and heading her way for two weeks at paradise beach.

Meanwhile, out of nowhere, we visit what appears to be an all-gay naval ship that's in the area to nab some weed dealers. We'll be seeing more of that motley crew later. In the meantime, the girls show up at Sarah's. It is at this point where he find out that both Ginger and Ducky are wearing shorts that are at least two times too small.

They've invited Scott-the-hitchhiker to stay with then for the night. They figure Sarah will say it's ok. She meets Scott. Scott Daniels.  It's ok. The chemistry between these two! This summer is already lookin' steamy!

Ginger and Ducky immediately head out to the beach for some nude sunbathing. Naturally, this attracts their voyeuristic neighbor Harold, who watches them through a telescope.

Also, Scott and Sarah take a romantic stroll and get to know each other better. And a nerd guy, wearing black socks on the beach, knocks himself out with a can of beer and then gets chased around by the fat girl from the credits. She's got Bo Derek braids. Classy!

Ginger and Ducky decide to throw a party. They do not ask Sarah first. Some friends. The problem is, they want lots of boys at the party, but they don't know any. So Ginger picks up the yellow pages and starts calling various delivery services. The pizza guy shows up first and offers Ducky the salami in his pants.

He is quickly followed by other service people, as well as everybody who hanging out on the beach. Sarah's worried things are going to get out of hand. Ginger assures he there's nothing to worry about. I would not trust Ginger, Sarah.

So, the party's on. Ginger does some pretty amazing herky-jerky dancing. Also, Ginger lied, because the party does turn into an orgy. And they're beginning to run out of booze. So Ginger calls the liquor store to order some more. Six cases of beer, and six cases of “peach tipple”. And she charges it to Uncle Carl's account!

Also, at one point, the nerd guy yells, “Food fight!” He's not lying. There's a hamburger and a bottle of ketchup and a bottle of mustard fighting on the beach.

Harold's wife finds out what Harold's been looking at all this time, and calls the cops. Luckily, the cop who shows up is a college dude, so Ginger convinces him to stay. And the party rages on!

By the way, eagle-eyed sleaze-beasts might recognize some of the party-goers: the chick from Joysticks  is guzzling champagne, and the chick from Boardinghouse is dancing wildly in a blue leotard!

And then everybody at the party – except for Sarah and the Doreen, diaper delivery service girl – go skinnydipping at the beach. Sarah and Doreen have a heart to heart, and Doreen tells our uptight protagonist to loosen up. That seems right. Loosen the fuck up, lady.

Also, you remember Captain Jack, the dope smuggler? He's cruising past the party when he gets wind that the navy is bearing down on him. So he orders his crew to get rid of the cargo. They toss garbage bags of marijuana off the boat, and naturally it starts drifting towards Sarah and the gang.

It is at this point when Uncle Carl, under the orders of his pushy fiance Julie, decides to drop in on his niece and see how things are going. He walks in and finds his house has been taken over by topless girls and jugglers in Space Invaders t-shirts.

Uncle Carl is very disappointed in Sarah. He wants everybody out in the morning, including Ginger and Ducky! Summer is cancelled!

Ginger and Ducky overhear their conversation. They don't want to be sent home! And so, they formulate the kind of plan you'd expect from girls named Ginger and Ducky. They'll seduce Carl! Ginger corners Uncle Carl in his sauna, where he's trying to relax. She works her blonde stoner chick charms on him.

Carl promptly passes out from the heat and the weed. Goodnight, uncle Carl.

The next morning, Sarah wakes up and surveys the wreckage. Everyone is still in the house, sleeping in piles on the floor. Ginger chases everybody out so they can clean up. And then she leaves Sarah to do it herself. Why is Sarah friends with these people?

Uncle Carl takes Ducky sailing. She takes off her top and then falls out of the boat. He has to jump out of the boat and save her. Then he has to give her mouth-to-mouth. She digs it. He digs it too, until his nosy neighbors show up. Anyway, all these boobs and smooches convince Uncle Carl to let Ginger and Ducky stay. Good job, girls. Summer is saved!

Wilhemina-the-nosy-neighbor calls Julie and tells her about all the sexy hijinks going on. Julie jumps into her limo and heads over to straighten shit out. Meanwhile, Ginger and Ducky find all of Captain Jack's weed. And then they throw another party. Everybody who shows up gets a baggie full of weed. Should be a good night. Even Sarah's excited. She teases her hair up and wears a bikini top (finally!).  She swills some booze and starts making out with random dudes. Scott doesn't like it, but fuck him, he doesn't own Sarah, she can do what she wants. Also, there's mud wrestling.

And then Julie stomps in on Carl and the girls in the sauna and fucks everything up.

She breaks off the engagement. Carl's not all that upset, really. Also, Julie gets high with the rookie cop and forgets why she was pissed in the first place. Also, the navy shows up and attacks the party. They march everybody out to the beach and execute them.

No, they don't do that. They do confiscate all the weed, though. Here's the problem, though. They decide to burn it all, right there on the beach. And anyone whose ever seen a Cheech and Chong movie knows how that goes.

Also, out of nowhere, Sarah pops off her top! And I will tell you this, it was worth the wait.

And so, everybody's stoned and getting laid and happy, even the gay navy guys and the nosy neighbors.
The end.

Not everything lands the way it should in The Beach Girls. For protagonists, Ginger and Ducky seems like awful people, and  you could excise the groundskeeper's tiresome pratfalling antics entirely, and it would not harm the film. But these are very minor complaints. For the most part, The Beach Girls pushes every 80's nostalgia button: bad music, big hair, lots of jiggling boobs, and the odd but pervasive notion that throwing an awesome party is more important than anything else you could ever do. Best of all, it introduces us to an uptight chick with a huge rack, lulls us into thinking we'll never see what's going on under those drab clothes, and then pops 'em out at the last possible moment. What a gift! The Beach Girls, like many films of the era, present us with a euphoric vision of the ideal summer, one that really only exists in movies like this. Still, it
gives you something to strive for. There's an Uncle Carl in all of us, I'm sure of it. Or at least Harold, the horny neighbor with the telescope.

- Ken McIntyre

PS Hear the gang talk about The Beach Girls on Episode 148 of the Movies About Girls Podcast!