After being harassed by the local sheriff of a small seaside town, two female ex-cons hoping to start over in said small seaside town decide that it's probably a good idea to change out of their hooker clothes. I don't recall which one said it to be exact (it was most likely the brunette, since she was dressed sluttier than her blonde friend). But the second one of them implies that they should start dressing more conservatively, I immediately dropped to my knees, raised my arms in the air (clenching my fists along the way), looked up at the ceiling and yelled, "Fuck!!!!" in an overly dramatic fashion. Of course, as I soon found out, this pathetic, shameful display was completely unnecessary. But during those fleeting moments after the suggestion to dress less whore-like was put out there, my mind was racing. I mean, I'm not interested in watching a film about two attractive, sensibly dressed women who just got out of jail. I don't care if the film, which, by the way, is called Junior (a.k.a. Hot Water and A Cut Above), features a mentally unbalanced Jeremy Ratchford wielding a chainsaw in an unorthodox manner, this isn't what I signed up for (truth be told, chainsaws in movies are rarely ever used in an orthodox manner, it's a fact, look it up). The way they were dressed when they got out of prison was perfectly fine, I thought to myself, as these tarty-looking hosebeasts strutted down the street free women at the beginning of the film.
To make things even better, the women, K.C. (Suzanne DeLaurentiis) and Jo (Linda Singer), are confronted by a scumbag in a convertible. How does that make it better, you ask? I was just about to get to that part. Judging by the way he roughed up K.C., I'm guessing he's her pimp (he slaps her around like a rag doll). Or maybe he was a drug dealer? Yeah, that makes sense, he did, after all, shove K.C.'s face into a pile of cocaine on the hood of his car. Pimp, drug dealer or both, it doesn't matter. What does matter is, these chicks are both skanks and they both have criminal records. (Um, those are good things?) What are you fucking kidding? Of course they're good things.
As almost everyone knows, I'm only interested in dating women who have criminal records. And the same logic applies to the movies I watch. The prospect of watching a film that boasts women who aren't felons makes me physically ill. I don't care if you're caught smuggling hashish in your pussy or found guilty of poisoning the elderly, you had better done something illegal, or else I ain't wooing or watching your ass. It's that simple. So, what you waiting for? Go out and commit a crime, so we can get this party started.
While I could have used a scene that showed what life was like for K.C., a tough as nails brunette, and Jo, a tough as nails blonde, in the pokey, the film, nonetheless, opens with them being released from prison. Who knows what they were in for, but by the looks of their clothes, I would say they were in for prostitution. But then again, prostitutes don't really get lengthy prison sentences. No, I would say it was something drug related. Which makes sense, as we have already established that the guy who slaps K.C. around after they get out is a pimp/drug dealer.
Speaking of which, just as I was about to start admiring the structural fortitude of K.C.'s ensemble (black pantyhose paired with a gold lame jacket), along comes this pimp/drug dealer in a convertible. You have to give up to Jo for trying to come the aide of K.C., who's currently being repeatedly slapped across the face. However, she really needs to work on her technique, as none of her blows are causing the pimp/drug dealer to stop was he's doing. Just when the pimp/drug dealer thinks he's subdued K.C., she stabs him the right nostril with some kind of cocaine pendant, and Jo, who's already in the driver's seat, hits the gas, and the two are on their way.
Well, well, well, would you lookie here, it would seem that pimp boy keeps a loaded shotgun in his car; I'm no expert when it comes to foreshadowing, but I think their newly acquired shotgun should come in handy as the film progresses.
Driving through the countryside, K.C. and Jo takes turns behind the wheel. You know what that means, don't you? (Um, let me guess, K.C.'s pantyhose adorned thighs are going to periodically brush up against the steering wheel, causing you to feel envy towards yet another inanimate object that appears in a Canuxploitation/Hicksploitation film from the mid-1980s?) Damn, you're good.
Not one to be overshadowed in the sexy department, Jo volunteers to give a blow job to a gas station attendant who has taken the their car keys hostage. Exiting the convertible with a surge of legginess, Jo, utilizing the slit on the back her short blue skirt for added mobility, saunters into the garage and prepares to feast on his junk. (She's not really going to blow him, is she?) Don't be silly, Jo's got class and dignity. Wait a minute, no she doesn't. Either way, her mouth has no intention of touching his stupid-looking dick (it's true, I didn't see his dick, but trust me, I bet it looks stupid).
Realizing that Jo took some of her thunder away in the previous scene, K.C. decides the best way to get some of it back is stick her butt out while working on their car's engine. The idea, I think, is to let all the other motorists get a nice look at what she's got going on in her junk drawer. And given that it's encased in jet black pantyhose and a pvc leotard, her ass is actually listed in the official driver's handbook as a road hazard.
You might find this hard to believe, but Junior isn't about two leggy ex-cons driving cross country. I wish it was, but it isn't. No, what it's really about is two leggy ex-cons battling a mentally unstable Mama's boy named–you guessed it–Junior.
The leggy ex-cons plan on fixing up a rundown marina. Only problem being, the locals, including the aforementioned Junior (Jeremy Ratchford), are not too thrilled with the idea of a couple of trashy sluts (their words, not mine) defiling their quiet, soggy armpit of a town. Oh, and don't expect local law enforcement to be on their side, as the unnamed Sheriff (Ken Roberts) is the one leading the charge to get rid of these leggy outsiders (I guess they have something against attractive, non-native women with shapely legs).
Wearing a fedora and red suspenders, Junior ups the ante each time he harasses K.C. and Jo at the marina. And each time he's done harassing them, he consults his deranged-looking mother.
The most memorable of Junior's harassment-based forays is when Junior attacks Sally (Alanne Perry), a local woman K.C. and Jo befriend, with a chainsaw. However, my favourite harassment-based foray has to be the scene where Junior and K.C. square off against one another in motorboats. After besting Junior (his flimsy boat was no match K.C.'s boat - it has a powerful souped up engine - that she installed herself), a bunch of Junior's redneck pals show up and surround K.C.'s boat. Desperate, K.C. removes her bumble bee print bikini top, stuffs it into a bottle of petrel, lights it and throws it at one of the boats, causing it to burst into flames.
(Hold up, are you saying K.C. used her bumble bee print bikini top as the wick for her makeshift Molotov cocktail?) Yep. (I think I'm in love.) And get this, she threatens to use her bumble bee print bikini bottoms for her next Molotov cocktail. When the other rednecks notice K.C. gesturing toward her bumble bee print bikini bottoms, as if to say, I've got another fiery cocktail with your names on it, they get the hell out of there.
To celebrate her victory over Junior, K.C. shows off her legs in an act of pure, unadulterated legginess (kick them stems, you sassy temptress, you). Actually, the real celebration takes place when K.C. takes the cock attached to Bud (Michael McKeever) and uses it as her own personal sex toy. Who's Bud, you ask? He's a redneck K.C. managed to lure away from the redneck lifestyle (it wasn't that hard given that K.C. is foxy as all get out).
If you're wondering where Jo's sex toy is at. Look no further than the crotch belonging to Luke (Cotton Mather), a plant-loving singer-songwriter who lives on a house boat.
Even though the film is clearly Canadian (it was shot just outside Montreal), it doesn't pretend to American either. In a shrewd move, the film lacks any references to geography. Nor does it feature any nationalistic symbols. This gives the film a neutral, almost otherworldly vibe. It's almost as if it doesn't place on Earth. Seriously, the film features two leggy chicks performing manual labour in bikinis. If that's not otherworldly, I don't know what is.
Oh, and if the name "Linda Singer" sounds familiar, it might be because she's the same Linda Singer who performs on "Leather High" by Nudimension, a Quebec new wave/synthpop group.