Cruel Intentions (Roger Kumble, 1999)

When I first saw Cruel Intentions (a.k.a. Eiskalte Engel), the updated version of Les Liaisons Dangereuses (the Choderlos de Laclos novel, not the German electro group who pioneered industrial dance music during the early 1980s), I thought it was merely a WB sitcom masquerading as edgy satire (you know, with its racy language and backstabbing). On top of that, the cast just screams low ratings and mainstream indifference. However, upon further inspection, I was surprised by how much I was able to delight in the scheming antics of the Kathryn and Sebastian, two mentally-adroit step-siblings, especially during the film's early going, when they were at their most ruthless. Sure, it still struck me as tame, and even wholesome at times, but Roger Kumble's snarky dialogue filled in the non-titillating gaps wonderfully. Taking place in Manhattan's Upper West Side, the film is basically about this bet between the aforementioned siblings, a swishy pair of bored teenagers who seem to have no parental guidance whatsoever. One wants to get back at a doltish classmate (a naive young half-wit), the other just wants to stick his dick in a new hole. I think that sums it up. Oh, wait, get this, Sebastian, the adventuresome shaft wielder, ends up falling in love with his intended victim (a virginity enthusiast and ill-defined Jesus supporter). And, as you would expect, this upsets Kathryn, who openly wants to feel the exquisite hardness of his brother's well-seasoned cock in her ass. You see, him penetrating her in any opening he desires is her reward for winning the bet. Or is it his reward? I can't remember. Anyway, much teen-based treachery and adolescent blackmail ensues.

Bringing conniving while lounging to a whole new level of hose-beastery, Sarah Michelle Gellar just plain rocks in Cruel Intentions. It's true, she has the juiciest part to begin with, but Sarah Michelle seems to revel in playing a catty brat. I can't think of another actress I'd rather see hurling emasculating put downs while lollygagging than SMG.

Horny and extremely unpleasant, I loved the calculated and devious looks she would throw the outmatched Ryan Phillippe. And her revilement towards Selma Blair's Cecile, well, that was an unsavoury treat to bask in. I mean, the way she mumbled insults under her breath was exceptional, especially when Selma was engaging in her infamous "secret society" dance.

Now the tongue massage tutorial that takes place in Central Park between Sarah Michelle Gellar and Selma Blair is one of coolest mouth kissing scenes I have ever seen, and is justifiably extolled by reprobates and sane people the world over. However, what most fail to realize is what a fantastic sexy leg feast this film is when looked at from that particular angle. Yeah, yeah, the underrated Tara Reid is seen sitting at a desk, not a tantalizing gam in sight. But as for everyone else, it's a veritable stem-off.

You know you're in for something special when even Swoosie Kurtz and Christine Baranski are given the opportunity to shine, leg-wise. Hell, the film opens with Ryan Phillippe complementing Swoosie on her "killer legs." Selma is shameless when comes to showing some leg (there's nothing sexier than a woman who is keenly aware that she has great legs), while Sarah Michelle is a little more subtle. She waits until the third act to unveil her first-rate legs, but when she does, it's a beautiful thing. Reese Witherspoon, on the other hand, was very stingy when came to exposing some stemage. And... nope, I think that covers everything.

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Freeway (Matthew Bright, 1996)

Unchecked lewdness, moments of excessive violence, scenes of abhorrent tastelessness, and most importantly of all, it's funny as hell...in a dark, "Oh, no, she didn't!" kinda way. The rambunctious Freeway is a film that not only celebrates the tawdrier aspects of society (underage prostitution, girl-on-girl roughhousing, bilingual solicitation), but also manages to be one of the funniest films I have seen in a long-ass time. Using the classic folktale Little Red Riding Hood as his foundation, writer-director Matthew Bright (Forbidden Zone) has taken the story of a hood-wearing picnic enthusiast with a Grandmother fixation and turned it into a modern day allegory about sexual abuse, serial killers and parental ineptitude. In this souped-up version of the old-timey children's fable we follow the messed up adventures of teenage hellion, Vanessa Lutz (Reese Witherspoon), an illiterate, shapely legged little terror, who enjoys locking whoremonger's in the trunks of cars and making shanks in her spare-time. The film starts off with Vanessa's streetwalker mom (a scrumptiously sleazy Amanda Plummer) and deviant stepfather (a twitchy Michael T. Weiss) being arrested on the same day. And, as you would expect, the foulmouthed scamp is quite despondent. So she ditches her parole officer and hatches a plan to stay with Grandma, who lives up in Stockton, California (the town where Fat City was filmed and the birthplace of Pavement). Only problem is, her lemon of a car breaks down on the freeway. Fortunately (and I use that word carefully), a kindly stranger named Bob Wolverton (Kiefer Sutherland) offers to give her a ride the rest of the way.

Sexy and full of spunk, Reese Witherspoon blew the hell out of me as Vanessa, the sassiest piece of jailbait this side of Flin Flon. The scrunchy-faced actress completely destroys my image of her in this movie.

Discharging a rapid fire barrage of hilariously filthy put-downs at anyone within earshot, Reese gives an impassioned and volatile performance that left me dumbfounded. In Vanessa Lutz, Miss Witherspoon has created a character so enchanting, so endearing, that I get all tingly just thinking about her. Whether she's gently pistol-whipping necrophiliacs in the back of the head or beating a fellow inmate with a pay-phone receiver, Vanessa trampled her way into the blackened recesses of my perverted heart.

Her interrogation scene with the always reliable Dan Heydaya and Wolfgang Bodison (I loved the way he seemed aroused by Lutz' descriptions of her past crimes) is the best example of Reese's acting mettle (wonderfully unselfconscious and feisty to the max). This particular scene is also a great example of the film's very un-PC dialogue. I also adored the fact her step dad taught her how to make a juvie-quality shank.

Oh, and the look Reese's face in that picture detectives show to Kiefer when he's in the hospital was the funniest thing I've seen in years.

A girl-loving Brittany Murphy is totally awesome as Rhonda (Reese's slightly unhinged bunk-mate while she's in prison). The way she said the lines, "I'm in here for huffin' paint" and "They found a gram of tar up my kooch" had me rolling near the floor.

The lover of tacky fashion in me thinks Brooke Shields' seafaring wardrobe and dangly jewelry deserves major kudos. On top of that, I thought Tara Subkoff's leg brace was a wonderfully odd character touch; the makeup used to create Kiefer's grotesque smile was well-crafted; and Alanna Ubach's strangling technique was absolutely splendid in its ghastliness. You know what they say, nothing beats getting strangled to death in a gas station restroom.

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