Savage Beach (Andy Sidaris, 1989)

When I finished watching Savage Beach, the sort of sequel to Hard Ticket to Hawaii–sort of, in that, they both take place in the same dew-laden universe and even feature some of the same characters–I briefly flirted with the idea of copying what I wrote about Hard Ticket to Hawaii and simply passing it off as a review for Savage Beach. Of course, I would change a few minor details here and there. But for all intents and purposes, it would be the exact same review. Then it dawned on me. Not only would that be unfair to Hope Marie Carlton (Slumber Party Massacre III), Dona Speir, and writer-director Andy Sidaris, it would also be unfair to my millions of fans out there. I know what you're thinking: Millions?!? Don't you mean billions? Oh, you weren't thinking that. Then what were you thinking? Never mind. It's funny you should bring up the whole copying thing, as there are plenty of moments in this film that caused me to think: I can't write yet another nonsensical word collage about Hope Marie Carlton's cuteness, I need something else. Actually, my saviour shows up immediately in the form of a leggy redhead, one that provided me with all the necessary visual nourishment I require to be able to get through this khaki-short saturated exercise pretty much unscathed. Now, I promise to expand on my feelings toward this so-called "leggy redhead." But in the meantime, let's talk about Magnum P.I., or I should say, let's talk about how this film is basically a ninety minute episode of Magnum, P.I. It's true, this film features more naked breasts than your average episode of Magnum, P.I.; in fact, I don't remember seeing any naked breasts on Magnum, P.I. However, neither does this film. Sure, it's got naked breasts, but they're mostly shot from the side. You mean? Yep, side-boob. Even when they are filmed from the front, their usually obscured by fizzy hot tub water.  Obscured by fizzy hot tub water? That's a bloody outrage. Actually, it didn't bother me at all.
 

 

Getting back to Magnum, P.I. for a second, didn't that show have an episode where they come across a remote island where a Japanese soldier believes the war is still going on? I know, I could easily get to the bottom of this by doing some research. But people who don't get paid to wax poetically about leggy redheads don't do research. And besides, I'm going with my gut on this one, and my gut tells me that Magnum, P.I. did a Japanese soldier still fighting World War II thirty-five years after the war ended episode. Even though I'm probably thinking about an episode of Gilligan's Island.
 

 

Judging by the all this talk about Japanese holdouts, I think it's safe to say that's exactly what the plot of Savage Beach entails. Aren't we perceptive. Yes, there's a Japanese holdout. Yet, the film is more about greed, honour, and leggy redheads than anything else. You see, there's this box filled with stolen Filipino gold, and a dying Japanese navel officer has decided the time has come to reveal its location. Well, sort of. He has a general idea where it could be. In other words, the actual location is still a mystery.
 

 

You know what means? There's going to be a lot of nefarious characters coming out of the woodwork who will want to get their grubby little hands that gold. And who's more nefarious than Al Leong? Al who? The balding Asian guy with the long Fu Manchu mustache who's in every American action movie from the 1980s. Okay, maybe he's not in even American action movie. But he's in Big Trouble in Little China and Die Hard (he's the pseudo terrorist who helps himself to a pre-shootout candy bar), and that's plenty in my book. Either way, he plays Fu, yeah, that's right, Fu, a freelance scumbag with a severe hankering from some buried treasure.
 

 

You know who else is nefarious? The guy representing the government of The Philippines, that's who. Now, I don't want to question the hiring practices of government of The Philippines, but are you sure you want Martinez (Rodrigo Obregón) representing you? I mean, I know The Philippines and Spain have historic ties with one another, but this guy doesn't look Filipino at all.
 

 

Actually, the fact that he doesn't look Filipino isn't what makes him so nefarious, it's the fact that he's a communist insurgent, and, most nefarious of all, his girlfriend looks like Teri Weigel. You wanna know why his girlfriend looks like Teri Weigel? It's because she is Teri Weigel. Oh, sure, she's playing character named Anjelica, but her temperament is pure, unadulterated Teri Weigel.
 

 

Add Captain Andreas (John Aprea) of the U.S. Navy, and a blonde C.I.A. agent, Bruce Christian (Bruce Penhall), to the mix, and you got yourself quite a diverse group of treasure hunters.
 

 

How Donna (Don Speir) and Taryn (Hope Marie Carlton), federal agents posing as employees of Molokai Cargo, fit into this convoluted game of international intrigue isn't clear yet.
 

 

In meantime, Donna and Taryn are about to the bust up a heroin smuggling ring (the bastards are using hollowed out pineapples to transport their illicit product).
 

 

You mean to tell me that two blonde women in khaki shorts are going to put a gang of drug dealers out of business all by themselves? 'Cause, if that what you're telling me, I'm out of here. Don't be silly. They have back up. And it comes in the form of a leggy redhead named Rocky (Lisa London), the tallest, most exquisite leggy redhead on all of Molokai.
 

 

Shouldn't you mention that Rocky has a brunette partner? Yeah, yeah, Rocky is paired with some chick in pink bicycle shorts named Pattycakes (Patty Duffek), I know, what a stupid name. But let's stop beating around the bush and talk about Rocky, shall we?
 

 

Arriving at the warehouse that's suspected of being the nerve centre of the drug dealer's operation on motorscooters, Rocky, and her friend, Pattycakes, flirt with the two guards standing outside the entrance.
 

 

The plan is to use Rocky's lengthy gams, which are sheathed in red and black striped tights (don't worry, she's wearing a matching top), to distract them so that Donna and Taryn can more easily sneak inside.
 

 

On top of using her lanky figure, Rocky charms them with her droll wit and the promise of free mai-tais.
 

 

Pairing up with a guard each, Rocky and Pattycakes continue to keep the guards busy. When, all of a sudden, gun fire can be heard coming from inside the warehouse. Grabbing her badge, which she had tucked away (I won't say where), Rocky tells the guard she was flirting with that he's under arrest.
 

 

Is Rocky the kind of gal who is just gonna lie there and feel sorry for herself after you push her to the ground? Um, I don't think so.
 

 

Pulling out of her gun, which she also had tucked away (I won't say where), Rocky gets back on her feet, which are being supported by a saucy pair of black pumps, and proceeds to lend a helping hand to Pattycakes, who's currently being manhandled by the guard she was flirting with.
 

 

When Rocky points a gun at you, where on your body do you think she like to aim? If you said, the crotch, you would be correct.
 

 

To celebrate yet another successful bust, Donna, Taryn, Pattycakes, and Rocky all take a soak together in a hot tub. If you thought that was awesome, which I didn't, by the way (topless hot tub parties are so passé), you probably won't appreciate the scene where Rocky, who has since changed into a reddish mini-dress, gets an automatic breadmaker delivered to her restaurant; which, of course, is called Rocky's. Now, you could say ending a film with the delivery of a breadmaker is a risky move, but it perfectly encapsulated the wonky appeal of this here motion picture.
 

 

Just a second, I've been handed a note. What the... it says here that the film is not even close to being over. In fact, there's apparently more than an hour still to go. Well, that's just great. And as I was coming to this realization, Donna and Shane Abilene (Michael Shane), a fellow pilot, are about to engage in some of the most cringe-worthy dialogue I have ever heard; they, to sort of quote Bon Jovi, "give double entendres a bad name."
 

 

Anyway, while delivering a serum, one that will help a bunch of needy children, to a hospital on the Marshall Islands, Donna and Taryn are caught in a nasty storm. Forced to crash land on a remote island in the middle of the Pacific, Donna and Taryn inexplicably find themselves caught in the middle of a desperate hunt to find a box of filled with gold bars. If that wasn't enough, the gold is being guarded by a Japanese holdout (Michael Mikasa), who, of course, killed Taryn's grandfather while he was surfing there in 1940s. I'm not making this shit up.
 

 

In-between the poorly-staged action sequences (the kung-fu fights are piss poor in terms of choreography) and the hokey dialogue scenes, Teri Weigel, of all people, manages to make the film interesting as a sexy communist. Sure, she engages in two saxophone accompanied sex scenes with Rodrigo Obregón's Martinez (one in a hotel bed and one in the backseat of a car), but it was her delivery of the line, "My ideology means far more to me than fame and adulation. The good of the party is my reward," that impressed me the most. Truth be told, it's probably the best line in the entire movie. I also liked the manner in which she stood while standing on a boat, as her posture oozed confidence. And the black bra/top she wore while standing on a boat was pretty cool as well, especially all those the shiny metallic thingies that covered it; très Rhythm Nation.
 

 

When the time comes for us to find out why the beach is so savage, I'm afraid to say that my interest in this film had long since waned.  And it's no wonder. I mean, with Lisa London's Rocky languishing in Molokai and Teri Weigel relegated to looking fashionably fierce while standing on boats, there's nothing much to latch onto in this film once the action moves to the [savage] island. Oh, and, make sure, if you do manage to make it all the way to the end, to check out the final scene. The super-tight orange two piece outfit Hope Marie Carlton is wearing will cause you sock garters to burst into flames. I know, Hope's orange getup doesn't quite make up for all the lameness that proceeded its appearance, but it does alleviate some of the pain. Lick.

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Picasso Trigger (Andy Sidaris, 1988)

According to Newman, the air in Hawaii is so dewy-sweet, that you don't even have to lick the stamps. And after enduring my third, or was it my fourth? Who has time to count? Anyway, after enduring yet another Andy Sidaris film, I think Newman might be right. The air in Hawaii does seem more moist than...Hold on, did I just say, "enduring"? Let me check. Yeah, it looks like I just did. That's not right. What I should have said was "enjoying," as there's no denying that, despite what they might lack in terms of everything, the films of Andy Sidaris are always enjoyable. Sure, you think they're enjoyable now. But wait until you're writing about your tenth Andy Sidaris film. He made ten movies?!? More than that, actually. Holy crap! So, yeah. Talk to me after you have watched Fit to Kill and Hard Hunted, then we'll see how committed you are to the cult of Andy Sidaris. Hey, as long as they all have hot chicks prancing around in mini-dresses, I'll be fine. What about your world famous aversion to big boobs and bad acting? When did I say I had say I had an aversion to big boobs and bad acting? I think you might have misheard me or something. I don't like fake boobs, which are usually big boobs. As for bad acting? I love bad acting. But I'm not a fan of bad bad acting. Let give you a quick example: The sort of symmetrical Dona Speir is a bad bad actress; she has no charisma, she can't smoke a cigarette in a convincing manner, and she thinks her stupid tits are all that. On the other hand, the adorable Hope Marie Carlton is a good bad actress; her face has pep and she does a killer Mae West impression. Wait, you thought H.M.C.'s Mae West impression was killer? I'd say it was average at best. Okay, maybe it wasn't a "killer." But at least she tried, and that's more than I can say for some of the dolts and dunderheads that appear in Picasso Trigger, the two-pronged action thrill ride with more unexpected explosions than an ill-conceived diarrhea awareness convention. Aren't all diarrhea awareness conventions ill-conceived? Touché.     
 

 

Taking his Playboy Playmates shooting automatic weapons in a tropical environment formula and not changing it one bit, Andy Sidaris expands his global reach with this film about double-crossing spies. Stop for a second. Is Andy sticking with his usual game plan, or is he mixing things up? Which is it? Actually, I think he's doing more of the latter in Picasso Trigger, as the film opens in Paris, France of all places.  
 

 

I wonder if Andy Sidaris and his crew actually flew to Paris to film the opening scene? Which, like I said, takes place in Paris, France. You don't wonder that. You're right, I'm more concerned about Cynthia Brimhall, Roberta Vasquez, Kym Malin, and Hope Marie Carlton. I mean, how long do I have to wait until I see their shapely bodies onscreen?  
 

 

The Picasso Triggerfish is known for its survival skills, and so is Salazar (John Aprea), codename: Picasso Trigger. However, after donating a painting of a Picasso Triggerfish to a Paris art gallery, Picasso Trigger is gunned down by a sniper while leaving the gallery. Who would want him dead? The question you should be asking yourself is, who wouldn't want him dead? I have a nagging suspicion that a drug lord named Miguel Ortiz (Rodrigo Obregón) had something to do with his death. But what's nagging me even more is the fact that Miguel and Salazar looked like they were in cahoots with one another; Miguel sends Salazar a taped message informing him that the plan to avenge the death of his brother is "in motion."
 

 

Meanwhile, at the Sands Hotel and Casino in Las Vegas, Kym (Kym Malin) and Pattycakes (Patty Duffek) are putting on a show. Dressed up like untamed cowgirls of the wild west, Kym and Pattycakes dance erotically while Juan (former Mr. Universe, John Brown), an undercover agent, Shiavo (Nicholas Georgiade), a snuff film director, and a chubby dude and a blonde guy with a ponytail attentively watch from the audience. When you get right down to it, the only real reason this paragraph exists, besides explaining the nefarious makeup of the Sands audience, is to point out that Kym Malin is an attractive woman. And now that I have done that, we can safely move on. That doesn't mean I'm not going to bring up Kym Malin's attractiveness at a later date, I just wanted to make sure I didn't skip over her, as I've noticed that a lot of Picasso Trigger reviews seem to fail to mention Miss Malin, who is easily in the film's top three when it comes to sex appeal.
 

 

Oh, and remember those two guys? You know, the chubby one and the blonde  guy with the ponytail? What about them? Well, one of the associates of the snuff film director puts a homing device on their person as they're leaving the casino. Tracking them in a helicopter, the snuff film director associate kills them in the middle of the desert with some sort of rocket launcher. Tracking devices? Helicopters? Rocket launchers? It all seemed so overly complicated. I mean, couldn't they just have shot them? You obviously haven't seen that many Andy Sidaris films. People in his films are always dispatched in this manner. Okay, maybe not always. Take the next scene, for example, as two assassins target two federal agents in Molokai. They were simply shot while walking on the beach. But for the most part, all the violence in his films usually involve helicopters, toy planes, toy cars, jet skis, hovercrafts, airplanes, boomerangs, medical prostheses, speedboats, you name it. Spear guns? Sure, spear guns.
 

 

Funny you should mention toy planes, as federal agents Donna (Dona Speir) and Taryn (Hope Marie Carlton) are about to be targeted for assassination. Someone tries to kill them with a toy plane? Exactly. Except, they were off snorkeling when the toy plane (one packed with explosives) destroys their boat. 
 

 

It would seem that someone is bumping off federal agents. And it's not just agents in Molokai and Las Vegas, they're even being targeted in Texas. Just ask L.G. Abilene (Guich Koock), who is nearly blowed up real good at his ranch. If the name "Abilene" sounds familiar, that's because L.G. is related to Travis Abilene (Steve Bond), the cousin or brother of the Abilene's who appeared in Malibu Express and Hard Ticket to Hawaii. And just like those other Abilene's, Travis is no marksmen, but he is a hit with the ladies. 
 

 

Enter Pantera (Roberta Vasquez), the leggiest, most badonkalicious federal agent currently in the spy game. She apparently worked undercover with Salazar, and, so, Travis decides to bring on board the team he's assembling to stop the bloodletting that is currently afflicting much damage on the federal agent community. But won't Donna be upset that Travis is working so closely a woman he once dated?  
 

 

When Travis gets one look at Pantera's legs, he'll be saying, Donna who? Seriously, look at her legs. Look at them!!!
 

 

After taking in some line dancing at Cowboys, the premiere club for all your synth-flavoured country and western needs, and engaging in some against the wall  intercourse, Travis and Pantera drive, in his red Ferrari, to Uncertain, Texas, to meet up with L.G. at the Big Pines Lodge.
 

 

While I admire you attention to detail. But what I really want to know is, what is Roberta Vasquez wearing? Oh, I'm sorry. She's only wearing the tightest pair of white leopard print pants ever to exist on this or any other plane of existence.
 

 

The sight of Roberta Vasquez's ample booty encased in those ridiculously tight pants are the real reason to watch this movie.
 

 

Anyone who tries to tell you otherwise, obviously has a different opinion than mine. And I respect that. But come on. You have to admire its oomph-like panache.
 

 

After an extended speed boat chase (yawn), we see Pantera leaning against Travis's Ferrari in a manner that practically screams Whitesnake.
 

 

As she leans, a hush suddenly falls over the audience. Will Pantera turn around once more and give us one last look at her robust ass sheathed in those super-tight pants? Spoiler alert: She totally does. And the crowd goes wild.
 

 

Instead of ending on a high note, Picasso Trigger inexplicably continues for another forty or so minutes. After all the agents are briefed in Las Vegas, Donna and Pantera get in a bit of pissing contest over the ownership of Travis's American cock. In reality, Donna's non-existent booty wouldn't stand a chance against the junk Pantera is packing in her trunk. But Travis ends up spending the night with Donna. Boo! You suck, Travis!
 

 

You might be thinking to yourself, what does Cynthia Brimhall get up to in this flick? Well, let me tell you. On top of sporting a tight stripped number on the tarmac of some airport, Cynthia's Edy Stark teams up with Jade (Harold Diamond) to take down one of Ortiz's associates. The kicker being, that Edy and Jade dress up as the least convincing telephone repairmen in the long, storied history of the fake telephone repairman ruse to do so; they look like a couple of strippers, all that was missing was their boombox blasting out "Wild Thing" by Tone Lōc.
 

 

Hot tub sex, Liv Lindeland's milfy legs strutting pool side, weightlifting sex, boxy blazers (it must be murder for Mr. Universe to find a jacket that fits), a motorbike chase (one that involves Bruce Penhall), Hope Marie Carlton wielding an uzi, and a crutch-zooka (a combination crutch/bazooka), Picasso Trigger checks all the boxes you want to be checked when faced with an Andy Sidaris film. Mind you, that doesn't mean it's a good movie. I'm just saying it provides everything you've come to expect from the jacuzzi-obsessed director. Personally, I thought Roberta Vasquez's bum in those leopard print pants, Kym Malin's untamed cowgirl theatrics, and Cynthia Brimhall's overall gorgeousness were enough to satisfy my frightfully superficial needs and wants.
 

 

As usual, we're treated to a coda where our "heroes" drink champagne to celebrate yet another successful mission. And in terms of making a lasting impression fashion-wise, I have to give Hope Marie Carlton's pastel outfit the prize for being the most fabulous, as she looks amazing (dig those unattached sleeves, girl).

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