Since my track record with films that contain the word "Malibu" is pretty rock solid, I decided to dive headfirst into Malibu Express while wearing nothing but a black lace négligée and a smugger-than-usual smirk on my face. I'm curious, did the floppy nature of the lace on your négligée happen to get caught on say, a protruding branch or rock before your body hit the film's bosomy surface with a resounding thud? No, but why do you ask? No reason. Actually, that's not entirely true. You see, I desperately wanted to see that precious smirk you always seem to wearing wiped clean off your exceedingly punchable face, and was interested to know if this film, written and directed by Andy Sidaris (Hard Ticket to Hawaii), was able to put a dent in that pompous bubble of unsubstantiated self-satisfaction you seem to float around in. Well, that's good to know. It's funny you should mention smirking, because the hero in this particular venture does a whole lot of smirking. In fact, he smirks so much, that it caused a riff to form in that special section of the space time continuum that oversees the implementation smirks within the known universe. While some folks might take issue with the amount of smirking that transpires in this flick, I, on the other hand, had no problems whatsoever with its abundance of first-class simpering. Besides, if you were a babe magnetic on the level of which Darby Hinton is as Cody Abilene, your inflamed hindquarters would be fleering like a bi-curious banshee in heat as well. Call me loopy and unhinged, but I feel sorry for all the heterosexual men who inadvertently stumble across this film while cleaning out their tool sheds. On top of sporting a red DeLorean DMC-12 (non-structural brushed stainless steel catnip for the straight boy in all of us), the sheer number of hotties and temptresses who prance, gesticulate and cavort about during this unnecessarily convoluted enterprise will cause the genitals of the discerning men in the audience to melt into a pile of thoroughly emasculated goo.
Okay, maybe "thoroughly emasculated" is somewhat of an overstatement. But I guarantee, they're will be goo. Why? Well, because there's not a dud in the bunch. Every actress, and, I'll be the first to admit, the term "actress" is a bit of a stretch in some cases, whether they're playing a race car driver with large breasts or a phone sex operator with delicate toes, puts in a herculean effort in terms of putting their body on the line for the benefit of art. There were times when I thought the wanton display of womanly flesh was a tad excessive, but, for the most part, I...Wait a second. Did you just use the words "flesh" and "excessive" in the same sentence?!? Bad pervert.
You might have noticed during all that smirk talk that I called Cody a "hero." Now, as most as people know, I don't usually use that term, as I find it be crass and unseemly. However, I'm willing to make an exception in Cody's case, because his desire for justice doesn't leave a trail of bullet-ridden corpses. Sure, henchmen do end up getting shot, some even lose their lives at the end of the day, but Cody's lack of skill when it came to the handling of firearms means that there a lot henchmen walking around out there who wouldn't be if he wasn't such a lousy shot. We get a firsthand taste of his firearm incompetence when Cody takes his trusty .44 Magnum down to firing range in the films opening scene. Sure, as he brags later on (he hit the board that held the target), but none landed on the actual target.
Fans of antiquated technology will dig the opening credits, as they feature a secretary (complete with long fingernails) typing out the names of the cast and crew on an old computer. Which is fitting since the film is basically about unsavoury characters trying to sell American computers to the U.S.S.R.
Undaunted by his lousy showing down at the firing range, Cody heads over to the race track in his red DeLorean DMC-12 to meet June Khnockers (Lynda Wiesmeier), his race car driver girlfriend, and Rodney (Jeanine Vargas), her official photographer. I don't know what the purpose of this scene is exactly, but it does give us our first sighting of a pair of naked breasts. They belong to Miss Wiesmeier, and I must say, I wasn't that impressed. The sight of Lynda and Jeanine standing with their backs to the camera as Cody drove off, on the other hand, was quite impressive. Seriously, this film is gonna have its work cut out for it if it expects to top the image of Lynda (teal) and Jeanine (purple) standing on a race track wearing short shorts.
Two gals from Corpus Christi named Fay (Kimberly McArthur) and Faye (Barbara Edwards) make a valiant attempt to steal Lynda and Jeanine's thunder by surprising Cody at his house boat, the Malibu Express. And, judging by the amount of heterosexual drool that littered floor, they were pretty successful. Again, I can't quite tell you what purpose this scene is supposed to serve in the grand scheme of things, but from the perspective of a rarely shaven, down of his luck bikini inspector, it was greatly appreciated. Just for the record: Faye's the brunette in the blue bikini and May's the blonde in the pink bikini twirling a baton.
It's a good thing Sybil Danning shows up when she did, as I was beginning to think that this film was going to be just a series of random scenes where some blonde dude with a mustache interacts with a bunch women who can't act. One of the few actresses in this film with any experience, Sybil commands the screen as Contessa Luciana, a secret agent working to stop the Russians from stealing U.S. technology. Wearing an alluring red and black off the shoulder number with shades (the entire ensemble looked like something she might have "borrowed" from the set of "V"), talks to some guy about who knows what. The important thing is that she's supposed to meet Cody for dinner. Bringing her a dress to wear, Cody, after she gets changed, accompanies Luciana to a fancy eatery. The dress Cody brought her, by the way, a red sequined monstrosity, was downright awful. Anyway, after wining and dining her, Cody smokes cigarettes and has dehydrating sexual intercourse with the contessa, in that order.
Given the task...Oh, have I mentioned that Cody is a womanizing private investigator from Texas? Well, he is. Given the task of watching over the Chamberlain's, a rich, mildly eccentric family living in Bel-Air, Cody ingratiates himself their matriarch, Lady Lillian Chamberlain (Niki Dantine), in order to find out who's been selling computer technology to the Soviets. Pulling up in a beat up Ford (the DeLorean needed to be serviced), Cody meets the aforementioned Lady Lillian, Shane (Brett Baxter Clark), their live-in butler/chauffeur, her daughters Anita (Shelley Taylor Morgan), a leggy gal with a perm (who enjoys tennis) who's having an affair with Shane on the side, and Liza (Lorraine Michaels), a non-permed brunette who might enjoy tennis (how the hell should I know?) who is also having an affair with Shane on the side, Anita's husband Stuart (Michael Andrews), who Cody thinks might be a little "light in the loafers," who is, of course, having an affair with Shane on the side, and Maid Marian (Robyn Hilton), their sexy housekeeper, who, for some strange reason, wears a giant blonde wig; I'm not entirely sure if she's having an affair with Shane on the side or not. But given Shane's voracious appetite for tight wet holes, I would be surprised if he was penetrating the maid's plush, fishnet pantyhose-adorned pussy on a semi-regular basis as well.
Just when I was starting to think that there were way too characters for me to keep track of in the Malibu Express universe, they introduce us to Sgt. Beverly (Lori Sutton), Cody's best friend/exercise buddy/occasional sex partner, and Peggy (Peggy Ann Filsinger), some brunette gym patron who appears in two scenes. In fact, why am I even mentioning the gym patron? Um, hello? She looked hot in a pink leotard. Yeah, but...No, you're right. That's a good enough reason. But still, half of these people have no business being in the film industry. Just because you were born with larger than normal breasts doesn't mean you should be allowed to utter dialogue in motion pictures, especially one's that have plots. I'm well aware that I'm contradicting what I said earlier about there not being "a dud in the bunch" when describing the "actresses" who appear in this movie. But now I would like to clearly state, with the exception Miss Danning, of course, that all the women who appear in Malibu Express are, for the most part, terrible actresses.
Anyway, it turns out that Shane doesn't have a voracious appetite for tight wet holes. Oh, sure, he doesn't mind doing it; penetrating them, that is. But the real reason he's doing it because he wants to blackmail them in order to help pay off the 30,000 dollars worth of gambling debts he's racked up. Using "state of the art video," he films himself having sex with the Chamberlain girls, Stuart included, and plans to extort money from them at a later date. Well, that "later date" has come sooner than expected, as the mob want their 30k right now. He decides to shakedown Stuart while driving him to a nightclub on Sunset Blvd., but he's having nothing of it. Why should he care? Everyone knows he's a card carrying friend of Dorothy. Following Shane's limo to the club, Cody is shocked when he discovers that Stuart has emerged dressed as a woman (he got dressed, or should I say, "glammed up," in the car). And not just any woman, a "gorgeous woman," as Cody puts it. Yep, I totally agree with Cody on this one, Michael Andrews is a fox. Oh, and the fact Cody was able to appreciate Stuart's stunning appearance made me like him even more. He may be a good ol' boy from Texas, but he knows an attractive drag queen when he sees one.
At a swanky party being held at the Chamberlain estate the very next day, a catty Liza tells Anita that the maid was, and I quote, "Raped by two homosexuals. One held her down and the other did her hair." Ouch! At any rate, despite the fact that a lot of plot-based intrigue occurs during this particular shindig (one that allows women to wear sunglasses indoors), all I could think about was the sight of Sybil Danning in that snake skin bikini. I mean, damn!
Employing the help yet another character, Sexy Sally (Suzanne M. Regard), a sex phone operator with nice feet, Cody tracks down a lead. Luckily, Sgt. Beverly (whose feet are just as nice as Sexy Sally's) is there to bail him out when the bullets start to fly. While there's no doubt he's super smooth when it comes to the ladies (he practically has to beat them off with a stick), he can't shoot for shit. Just like his ability to appreciate an attractive drag queen, Cody's lack of skill when it came to firearms was oddly endearing.
A dumb movie with an overly complicated plot (Cody's explanation of all the plot details is exhausting), Malibu Express is lighthearted escapism for those who love naked breasts. Speaking of which, I don't know who told Lynda Wiesmeirer that her breasts had the power to persuade men to her bidding, because I thought they mostly induced sadness. If I would have to peg anyone in this movie to be in the possession of the kind of power to persuade others, it would have been Lori Sutton or Shelley Taylor Morgan, as their attractiveness seemed to come from a moist and sincere place.
Ironically, the film's only genuine laugh is attained by an uncredited Andy Sidaris, who plays a Winnebago driver who picks up Cody and Lynda Wiesmeirer (and, yes, the reason he stopped was because Lynda flashed her breasts) after they get stranded in the middle of nowhere. Don't worry, though, it's not all tits and drag racing (Cody is periodically challenged to drag race by the Buffington family), Maid Marian wears fishnet pantyhose, Sexy Sally wears legwarmers at one point, Shelley Taylor Morgan looked absolutely smashing in her tennis gear, and don't forget about Peggy Ann Filsinger and her pink lycra spandex get-up.
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