Return to Savage Beach (1998)

My critical knives were just itching to cut into the bloated carcass that is Return to Savage Beach (a.k.a.  L.E.T.H.A.L. Ladies: Return to Savage Beach) for having so many freakin' endings, when, all of a sudden, Carrie Westcott, of all people (an "actress" who displays more charisma while unconscious than she does while conscious), chimes in, and, in one fell swoop, undercuts the point I was going to make about how this film's ending seems to go on forever. You see, just as I was starting to lose patience with the multiple endings that were being  thrown in my general direction (they even found the time to throw in a Scooby Doo-style ending), Carrie refers to the fact that this story has too many endings. Meaning, writer-director Andy Sidaris is totally aware of what's going on. I was always under the impression he had no idea what's going on. Anyway, unless I decide to circle back and watch the action-adventure films Andy Sidaris made during the 1970s, this is it as far as Andy Sidaris/Christian Drew Sidaris movies go. On the one hand, I'm kind of happy that it's over, as, let's be honest, the film's have been getting steadily worse ever since Malibu Express and Hard Ticket to Hawaii. Sure, there are a few exceptions here and there (Guns, for example, is an excellent piece of trash cinema). But for the most part, things have been going slowly downhill.

Yet, I'm also kind of sad. I mean, this is it. No more movies with terrible actresses with fake breasts trying recite expository dialogue, no more movies with poorly-staged shoot outs (can I at least get a muzzle flash up in this overpriced bistro?), and no more movies that feature the cast standing around holding glasses of champagne in bad 1980s/90s fashions in the final scene.

A sequel to Savage Beach (duh), but also a sequel to Day of the Warrior, as that film's entire cast is back for more scantily clad hijinks,  L.E.T.H.A.L. Ladies: Return to Savage Beach involves lost treasure buried on a remote island somewhere in the Pacific Ocean.

I know, didn't Special Agents Donna (Dona Speir) and Taryn (Hope Marie Carlton) help return the buried treasure to government of the Republic of the Philippines in Savage Beach? That's true, they did. However, as usual, unlawful shenanigans of a duplicitous nature were afoot, and the treasure somehow ended up back on–you guessed it–Savage Beach.

Since this film boasts the same cast as Day of the Warrior, including wrestler Marcus Bagwell (now sporting a George Michael circa 1998-2008 haircut), it boasts some of the same problems. The biggest one being the complete and utter lack of talent displayed by Julie K. Smith and Shae Marks, who are, if can you believe this, supposed to be the new Dona Speir and Hope Marie Carlton. Oh, sure, they have big breasts. But they bring nothing else to the table in terms of wit or personality.

Emerging from the Pacific Ocean in a skimpy lavender bathing suit, the so statuesque it's ridiculous Julie Strain hops in her car and drives to the KSXY studios in Molokai to watch a new spy satellite being launched. As usual, Ava (Ava Cadell), "your personal sextrologist," along with Harry The Cat (Kevin Eastman), her engineer (who looks like a roadie for, oh, let's say, Toad the Wet Sprocket), and Silk (Carolyn Liu), are there to greet her.

As in the previous films that take place in this universe, Ava uses her radio show to deliver coded messages to L.E.T.H.A.L. (Legion to Ensure Total Harmony and Law) agents in the field.

Delivering a coded message to Tiger (Shae Marks) and Tyler (Christian Letelier) in Dallas, Ava informs them that a group of "bad guys" are smuggling weapons into the U.S.A. via Mexico. And thanks to the new satellite in orbit, Ava can pinpoint their exact location for Tiger and Tyler, using code, of course.

Donning wet suits, Tiger and Tyler confront the "bad guys" on jet skis. What ensues enfolds as followed: Chase. Shoot out. Explosion. Cheesy one-liner. 

Meanwhile, a mysterious blonde, a woman named "Sofia" (Carrie Westcott), is putting on a red PVC outfit in a Dallas Ramada. Wait, why is she carrying pizzas and ginger ale on roller-blades? Oh, I see what's going on. With most of the L.E.T.H.A.L. agents out hunting gun runners, there's no one around to mind the store.

Knocking out a security guard, a receptionist and an office manager with some spiked ginger ale, Sofia, who was posing as a pizza delivery girl, simply walks in and steals some "obsolete computer files." I know, why would anyone want to steal obsolete computer files? 

While that was a weird thing for her do, did you see the receptionist? (The blonde in the turquoise dress?) Yeah, her. (What about her?) I thought she was the most normal-looking woman to ever appear in an Andy Sidaris production made between 1985-1998.

Now, under normal circumstances (no pun intended), being "normal-looking" would be a negative. However, after being repeatedly beaten over the head with what Andy Sidaris considers to be female beauty, to see a natural woman not dressed like a tarted up hosebeast onscreen, even it was for only a few seconds, was an amazing sight to behold.

Yet, like I said, the receptionist, played by Elizabeth O'Donnell, is only onscreen for a few seconds, so, unfortunately, we're back to the watching the usual Andy Sidaris-approved nonsense in no time.

Trust me, if you have watched as many Andy Sidaris films as I have, you will embrace just about anything that deviates from the status quo. And if that means obsessing over receptionists who drink ginger ale that's been drugged by a plastic-looking bimbo, than so be it.

I would rather watch the receptionist character pretend to pass out, than sit through another one of Julie K. Smith's unsexy strip routines. Is this supposed to be titillating? It looks like she's having a seizure. Oh, and don't get me started on the guy who replaced Kevin Light (Nowhere) as Doc, Miss Smith's love interest in Day of the Warrior. He's awful, truly awful. And you know what? I'm not even going to mention his name.

After getting the computer disc that contains the exact location of Savage Beach, Sofia flies to Hawaii and personally delivers it to Rodrigo Martinez (Rodrigo Obregón). Yep, the Rodrigo Martinez. It would seem that he wasn't killed at the end of Savage Beach after all.

Why Sofia is wearing a fur coat? Doesn't she know she's in Hawaii? Ugh, this movie. Oh, wait, she's got a surprise for Rodrigo underneath it... a sexy surprise.

Just in the nick of time, we're introduced to Fu (Gerald Okamura), Julie Strain's loyal sidekick, and Warrior (Marcus Bagwell), who's a good guy now.

Pay close attention to when Willow Black and Warrior show up at Fu's house. You'll notice that as Julie Strain bends over to grab something from the back seat of her car, she revels a slight hint of thong ensnared butt-crack... or is it, butt-crack ensnared thong? Either way, it's a beautiful sight to behold.

To find out what happens when they finally arrive at Savage Beach, see my review of the original Savage Beach, as it's basically the same thing. Except, in Return to Savage Beach, the ninjas use guns. That's right, the ninjas in this film are packing pistols. What has the world come to?

After about six endings, including a twenty minute wrap up monologue by Rodrigo Obregón (who kinda deserves one, as he's been in at least twelve of these movies), harmony has been achieved and the law has been enforced.

In a bizarre twist, the final shot features Ava Cadell lounging in Molokai in black stockings with seams. It's "bizarre" because it shatters my previous theory that stated that stockings, especially black stockings, are not conducive to Hawaii's humid climate. Well, if you will excuse me, I need to go wash the egg off my face, as Andy Sidaris just made a fool out of me. Black stockings in Hawaii... who would have thought? (Not to nitpick, but Carrie Westcott appears in black stockings earlier in the film.) Yeah, so what? The final shot of an Andy Sidaris film features a leggy Hungarian woman reclining in a leggy manner in black stockings. The end.

Day of the Warrior (Andy Sidaris, 1996)

Just when I thought I was out, they pull me back in. Except, "they" aren't The Mob (or the D-Mob, for you all acid heads out there) or The Church of Satan (or The Church of Extacy, for all you acid heads out there who didn't hear me the first time). Nope, in an act of pure desperation, I'm back suckling at the on the wonky nipple attached to the fake, disproportionately large tit that is your average Andy Sidaris film; and believe me, it's average, all right. How this came about, I'm not exactly sure. But I know one thing–and I can't believe I'm about to say this–I sure do miss Dona Speir (Click: The Calendar Girl Killer) and Roberta Vasquez (Picasso Trigger). The first film directed by Andy Sidaris to not star Dona Speir... Wait, let me rephrase that. The first film directed by Andy Sidaris since Hard Ticket to Hawaii to not star Dona Speir, Day of the Warrior features a brand new bevy of untalented actresses with suspect boobies for us to ogle and gawk at. Oh, sure, actual talented people like, Julie Strain (Fit to Kill), Rodrigo Obregón (Savage Beach), Gerald Okamura (Samurai Cop) and Richard Cansino (Guns) are back to make go of it. But everyone else is seriously lacking when it comes displaying the basic properties that make up charisma. Actually, that's not entirely true, there are some bright spots sprinkled here and there. And just because I like you, I'll try to isolate the few of the film's bright spots.

For the most part, however, the so-called "babes" who have been saddled with the task of providing this film with the prerequisite eye candy fail to achieve their primary goal.

And what, pray tell, you might be thinking, is that goal? It's simple, really, their goal is to give men erections. Anyone who tries to convince you otherwise is kidding themselves. Sadly, there won't be many erections unfurled during this film. Unless, of course, you're into skinny women with fake tits. If that's the case, you'll be unfurling untoward unicorn horns in your frontal trouser area until the cows come home.

Speaking of cows, check out the cow-print briefcase Cobra (Julie K. Smith) is carrying through chichi Beverly Hills, it's so tacky/awesome (and a nice subtle shout out  to Malibu Express - the protagonist in that film also carried a cow-print briefcase). What isn't tacky in the slightest, however, are the awesome black stockings currently holding her not-so shapely legs hostage. I didn't think it was possible, but the black stockings attached to Julie K. Smith's gams are having zero effect on the outward appearance of said gams. Meaning, her gams are not receiving a dramatic upturn in their sex appeal.

Don't look so stunned, I'm as shocked as you are. Like the true professional that he is, Andy Sidaris tries his best to film her black stocking-sheathed legs from every possible angle. But even that can't change the fact that Julie K. Smith looks like she's walking on a pair of shapeless stilts, all the while, trying to smuggle two comically large balloons underneath her pink jacket.

While I could sit here and trash Julie K. Smith's lack of legginess, I would really like to... You know what? Let's stick with this subject. Not to be cruel, but since Julie K. Smith stripping in a Beverly Hills strip club is the first thing we see in this film, we might as well start there.

Question: Is this supposed to be erotic? I mean, the sight of Julie K. Smith hurling her body across the strip club stage is doing nothing for me. Where's Sally Farb when you need her. (Sally who?) You know, Sally Farb, from The Curse of Her Flesh. Now there's a woman who knows a thing or about the art of burlesque. What Julie K. Smith is doing is basically a variation of that angry twitchy gyration thing Elizabeth Berkley does in Showgirls. In other words, it's not hot.

Welcome to the headquarters of L.E.T.H.A.L. (Legion to Ensure Total Harmony and Law). Sitting at her computer, Tiger (Shae Marks) is surprised to find out that the L.E.T.H.A.L. computer system has been violated by a criminal mastermind named "Warrior" (Marcus Bagwell). Realizing that the identities of all the L.E.T.H.A.L. agents currently in the field could be compromised, Tiger brings the news to Commander Willow Black (Julie Strain), who is exercising in her office in a skimpy leopard-print leotard.

Unable to warn the agents without blowing their cover, Willow sends Tiger into the field to get the word out. Assigned to work with a pilot named Tyler (Christian Letelier), Tiger is eager to go on an assignment, as it's been two years since... Holy crap! How does she walk around with those things? (What things?) What things?!? Those huge things sticking out of her chest. (Oh, you mean her tits.) No, no, no, those aren't tits. Those things are beyond tits.

Anyway, after recovering from the sight of Tiger's ginormous boobies (they're, like, totally out of proportion with the rest of her body), I was able to properly gauge the quality of Christian Letelier's acting. And, after thoroughly checking my instruments, I can safely say that he is in fact terrible.

In charge of bringing Doc Austin (Kevin Light)–who is working for a couple of the Warrior's underlings, Manuel (Rodrigo Obregón) and Kym (Raye Hollitt)–"in from the cold" (it's spy lingo), Tiger and Tyler head down to Southern Texas.

It would seem that the Warrior has some competition in the being buff in public department. No, not Kevin Light, silly. I'm talking about Raye Hollitt, who's built like a linebacker. Which is ironic since Kevin Light reminded me a little of linebacker Brian Bosworth circa his days with the Seattle Seahawks; and I do mean "days," as his NFL career lasted barely two seasons. Nonetheless, add Raye Hollitt's name to the vast list of women in this movie that I find unappealing.

In order to "take care" of L.E.T.H.A.L. agents Shark (Darren Wise) and Scorpion (Tammy Parks), the Warrior sends two stockbrokers/hitmen–who are currently posing as surfers in Malibu–to Las Vegas. Fans of Andy Sidaris, and the people who watch his films simply because there's nothing else on, will recognize one of the stockbroker-hitmen, as he is played by Sidaris regular Richard Cansino. Unfortunately, he's not paired with his long time partner Chu Chu Malave; who's been replaced by Cassidy Phillips. Sure, they're still bumbling and incompetent as ever, but it's just not the same.

The good news is, the stockbroker/hitmen go on a date with two sexy stock analysts before heading to Las Vegas. Granted, we don't actually see them go on a date, but we do get to see the leggy as all get out Christiva Turner and the silky smooth contours belonging to Carolyn Liu lounging by the pool.

And thus, breaking the film's streak of there of only being unattractive women onscreen up until this point.

Wait, what am I saying? Julie Strain has been onscreen several times already, and she's exceedingly attractive. And not someone you want to make angry, as she will straight up knock your dick in the dirt.

I'm sorry, but Julie K. Smith and Shae Marks aren't doing it for me. Yet, judging by the way Andy Sidaris' camera film's them, you'd think they were the most beautiful women on the face of the earth. His mind has obviously been conditioned to equate attractiveness with big tits. Which is fine, if that's your thing. But somewhere down the road he forget to equate a little thing called "personality." Something that Julie K. Smith and Shae Marks clearly don't have.

After watching her get dressed, we follow Julie K. Smith's Cobra, complete with her own theme music ("She's a cobra!"), as she heads to a shop on Rodeo Dr. to pick up some stolen diamonds from a guy who looks like the stuntman they would have hired if Skeet Ulrich had landed the lead role in The Ninth Gate. Again, not to sound cruel, but her clothes make her look like a 75 year-old woman. Not that there's anything wrong with being 75, it's just that Julie K. Smith clearly isn't 75.

While confidence is a quality I usually admire in a person, the confidence the characters exude in these films is especially off-putting. Just once I'd see a character in an Andy Sidaris/Arlene Sidaris/Christian Drew Sidaris production experience a moment of self-doubt. You could say the Sidaris' are mocking, in their own unique way, the tenets of American exceptional-ism. But even I'll admit, that's a bit of a stretch.

Coming close to experiencing a moment of self-doubt is Gerald Okamura's Fu, who headlines the Cloud 9 Lounge in Las Vegas under the name "Elvis Fu." Yet, despite the lackluster attendance of his show, Fu still seems to think he's doing great. Nonetheless, the teaming up of Julie Strain and Gerald Okamura is the best thing this film has to offer in terms of entertainment value.

As each L.E.T.H.A.L. agent gets their cover blown, the L.E.T.H.A.L. ladies must work extra hard to prevent their colleagues from being assassinated by the Warrior, who, despite having a cool look, is a pretty lame villain (he spends the bulk of the film inside a wrestling ring, while Rodrigo Obregón and the musclebound Raye Hollitt end up doing the lion's share of the legwork, villainy-wise).

If you're interested in micro mini-dresses, fake tits, old cellphones, piss poor shoot-outs (the one involving a bulldozer was sort of well-done, though), zebra-print stockings worn underneath PVC trousers...

Hold up, what the hell was that? I mean, we see Julie K. Smith in her room putting on zebra-print stockings, but seconds later she can be seen leaving in a pair of PVC trousers. Are we expected to believe that Julie is wearing zebra-print stockings underneath her PVC trousers? Um, I don't think so.

Okay, where was I? Oh, yeah... If you're interested in the stuff I just mentioned, and, not to mention, red leather skirts with zippers located in the front, films that feature plenty of third act acts of treachery, female finger pointing at board meetings, Ted Prior from Deadly Prey, and instances where muscular chicks shoot owls with shotguns, I don't know what to say. But if you're like me, and have seen way too many Andy Sidaris films than you'd care to admit, you might as well watch this one. Seriously, one more ain't going to kill you.

Fit to Kill (Andy Sidaris, 1993)

She can sing, she can dance, she's funny, and, of course, she's got killer legs, yet time and time again, the gorgeous Cynthia Brimhall is relegated to the sidelines. I've been wanting to say this for a long time and now is a good as time as any: If I have to watch another Andy Sidaris film that treats Cynthia Brimhall like a second class citizen, I'm going to throw the hissy fit to end all hissy fits. (Um, I hate to be the one to break it to you, but Fit to Kill was the last Andy Sidaris film to ever feature the luminous Cynthia Brimhall.) You're joking, right? (I'm afraid not.) Nooooooooooo!!!!!!!!! What? Too many o's? Not enough o's? Either way, this review will have to serve as my humble tribute to Cynthia Brimhall. You appeared in a total of six Andy Sidaris films. And while you might not have been the star of any of them, in my mind, you were easily the best thing about all six. If I had to pick, I'd say Guns was your crowning achievement in terms delivering the awesome. On the bright side, this particular film, the one I'm currently writing about, would turn out to the last Andy Sidaris film for Dona Speir and Roberta Vasquez as well. Woo-hoo! If you have been closely following my epic journey into the jiggle-friendly realm of Andy Sidaris, you'll know that I can't stand Dona Speir in these movies, haven't since the moment I laid eyes on her in Hard Ticket to Hawaii. I have nothing against her personally, it's just that it angers me that Andy Sidaris allowed someone so woefully untalented to star in seven of his films. If she had, say, appeared in two or three of his movies, I might have forgiven him. But seven?!? That doesn't make any sense. I mean, Cynthia Brimhall is clearly more talented than her. I guess I'm old fashioned. In that, I believe you should hire people based solely on talent.

As for Roberta Vasquez, I liked her in Picasso Trigger (if you remember correctly, I had a bit of a thing for her ample booty encased in leopard print tights), but have have slowly grown to dislike her; for one thing, her ample booty seemed to get less ample with every successive movie. I know, pretty outrageous. Nonetheless, so long, Roberta. Don't let the door hit you in your not quite as ample as it once was ass.

(I'm curious, with Cynthia Brimhall, Dona Speir, and Roberta Vasquez hanging up their g-strings for good, who's going to carry the Andy Sidaris flag into the mid-to-late '90s?) Oh, boy. Have I got a treat for you. (Don't tell me, it's Naida Albright, who plays "female commando"?) Nah, not her. Though, I will admit, she is one of the sexiest women to ever appear in an Andy Sidaris film. (Really?) Yeah, but more on her later. No, carrying the babes and bullets mantle into the future is  6' 1" Julie Strain, who basically acts as a gigantic breath of fresh air for the Andy Sidaris universe.

Injecting the franchise with the same villainous glee Teri Weigel and Devin DeVasquez brought to the table as brunette troublemakers who like metallic lingerie, yet Julie Strain seems to be more aware of her surroundings than her dark-haired sisters of villainy. (Huh?) What I mean is, she totally gets that these films are ridiculous. And the fact that she is aware of this, brings an extra level of camp to the proceedings.

Of course, before we can meet the saviour of the house that fake boobs built, we have to endure the sight of special agents Donna Hamilton (Dona Speir) and Nicole Justin (Roberta Vasquez)  bathing underneath a waterfall (yawn). When they're done doing that, Donna and Nicole put on the stupidest sunglasses they can find, grab their Uzis, and start to hunt a couple of masked men carrying automatic rifles. It turns out this is just an exercise; the masked men were fellow special agents Bruce Christian (Bruce Penhall) and Shane Abilene (Michael J. Shane). But Lucas (Tony Peck), their boss, has a nasty surprise for them when sicks a toy helicopter equipped with missiles on them (he scolds them for letting their guard down).

If you remember the Andy Sidaris film, Malibu Express, which came out in 1985, you'll recall that there's a reoccurring gag involving the fact that Cody Abilene is a lousy shot. Well, this is the eighth Andy Sidaris film in a row to feature the whole male members of the Abilene family can't shoot straight schtick. And since this probably the last time we'll see this bit in action, I just want to take the time to say, good riddance to one of the hokiest/lamest reoccurring gags in film history.

Meanwhile, at the KSXY studios, Ava (Ava Cadell), "your moonlight mistress," is steaming up the airwaves. (Hey, where's Becky Mullen?) Becky who? (You know, the attractive woman who periodically got out of a hot tub to get Ava coffee in Hard Hunted.) It would seem that she's been replaced with some chick named Sandy (Sandy Wild). Which, of course, makes no sense, as Becky Mullen is way hotter than this Sandy person.

After doing some early morning tai chi, we're finally introduced to Julie Strain. Playing Blu Steel, the world's premiere assassin, Julie is about to take out self-described super-villain Kane (Geoffrey Moore) in Las Vegas, when the tables are turned on her. Maybe she wouldn't have been so easily detected had she not decided to wear a black cat suit with metallic flourishes all over it  In fairness to her metallic flourishes, it seemed like Kane knew she was coming; his lead henchmen Burke (Brett Baxter Clark) and sexy sidekick Silk (Carolyn Liu) were waiting for her with their guns drawn. Anyway, instead of killing Blu Steel, Kane proposes that she come work for him; she was working for Po (Craig Ryan Ng), a rival super-villain who no likey Kane.

Assembling a meeting at the KSXY studios to discuss an upcoming mission, Lucas is about to start giving the agents their orders, when he notices that one of the chairs is empty. The lovely Edy Stark (Cynthia Brimhall) is apparently a bit late. Stumbling into the meeting with an adorable thud, Edy struggles to get to her seat. I'm not 100% sure, but I could have sworn I saw Donna and Nicole roll their eyes in response to Edy's clumsiness. The reason I'm not 100% sure is because for them to roll their eyes would require them to act. And, as everyone knows, Dona Speir and Roberta Vasquez couldn't act their way out of a poorly constructed bean-bag chair.

Whether they rolled their eyes or not, the looks on their unjustifiably smug faces as Edy awkwardly tried to compose herself made me angry. (You, angry? You never get angry.) Yeah, well, the sight of Donna and Nicole being indifferent to Edy's plight in Fit to Kill made me angry.

On the other hand, it caused me to admire Cynthia Brimhall even more. Think about it, it takes guts to for someone so aggressively attractive to allow themselves to appear foolish like that. I mean, you would never see Dona Speir or Roberta Vasquez leave themselves open to ridicule. Again, for them to do that would require a modicum of acting ability. Either way, here's to you, Cynthia Brimhall, and your unexpected comedic chops.

It just dawned on me: Am I still writing about this movie?

Okay, here's what I'm going to do. After doing a quick synopsis of the film's plot, I'm going to make a few profound observations, and then wrap things up.

Let's see, what's this film about? The Russian ambassador (Rodrigo Obregón), or, I should say, the ambassador of  The Commonwealth of Independent States (remember when that was something that actually existed?), is in Hawaii to be presented a large diamond by a local businessman named Chang (Aki Aleong), who acquired the diamond from a German World War II officer. And thanks to a surprisingly well put together flashback sequence, we learn that the diamond was stolen from a museum during the siege of Leningrad, and that German officer who took it gave it to Chang on his death bed (with instructions to give it back to the Russians). Anyway, as you might expect, Kane wants the diamond for himself. If you're thinking Kane simply wants the get his grubby hands on the diamond for greed-related purposes, think again.

In a shocking twist, we find out there's more to Kane than meets the eye. In fact, he somehow manages to weasel his way into becoming the most interesting character to ever appear in an Andy Sidaris film. And to think, all it took was two scenes that involved reciting some mild exposition. I wonder if Dona Speir, Roberta Vasquez, and the rest of these braindead chuckleheads realized that the son of Roger Moore was stealing their movie right from under their surgically-altered noses? Nah.

In Edy Stark news: She gets to sing a song at Chang's party (complete with a gown with a massive slit down the side and black nylons) and partakes in an impromptu photo shoot wearing a white lingerie, white heels and a white hat. Oh, and the less said about those tight gold pants, the better. Yeesh.

According to the trivia section of her IMDb page: Cynthia Brimhall is good friends with actress-singer Apollonia Kotero and considers one of her few vices to be a deep love of expensive lingerie.

As in Hard Hunted, Edy Stark and Lucas are targeted by bumbling assassins played by Richard Cansino and Chu Chu Malave, whose code names are "Evel" and "Kenevil" this time around.

There's moment in Fit to Kill that literally floored me. (The sight of the black suspenders attached Julie Strain's equally black garter-belt tearing across her intimidating backside?) No, it was the sight of Naida Albright, the lone female member in Po's elite squad of Red Chinese commandos. (Yeah, the part where she gets the jump on Donna Hamilton and kills that guy with a ninja star was pretty cool.) Yeah, those things were pretty cool. But I was actually referring to the fact that Naida Albright looked like a normal woman. What I mean is, she didn't have that "I'm a vapid Playboy model who has no business acting in movies" look about them. And because of this, I was naturally drawn to her. Of course, she's killed in a manner that was degrading (think of the scene from Raiders of the Lost Ark when Indy kills that black turban guy wielding the sword), but I found her presence a refreshing reminder that not all women mindless are  bimbos.