Crazy Girls Undercover

I usually fast-forward through movies like this. I must admit, this one slowed me down. It had a script, a budget, and even a good soundtrack ! My primary motive for tuning in was to catch a glimpse of Nikki Ziering's fun-bags. They're coyly available in the opening scene, never to be seen again. But that's O.K. The movie was fun.

A bevy of lovelies help our hero save the country from the bad guys. Clive Robertson does an admirable job playing the ultra-cool Damon Archer, who moonlights as an "uberBond" when the CIA needs him. His cover is owner of a nude dance troupe at the Riviera. Nice.

The lovelies are extremely adept at using their charms as distractions, hacking into computers, and anything else their job requires. Very likable. They're also not modest. Nice.

Lots of the characters and themes are familiar. Stereotypes are not too outlandish. The happy-go-lucky Mexican drug dealer could have been modified a bit, however.

My compliments to director Chris Langman for not overdoing the nudity, which is always a temptation. Well, maybe there could have been a little more. The movie moves along nicely though, and doesn't get boring. It's not for deep thinkers. It does suffice as a guilty pleasure and entertaining movie.

What happens when a second rate strip club promoter decides to make a movie about his imaginary escapades as an international spy? Is it possible to pointlessly incorporate a screenwriter's penchant for transvestite celebrity impersonators into the plot of a semi-erotic spy movie? Is traveling in a motorcade of yellow motorcycles and Hummers the best way for undercover strippers to sneak up on a truck carrying chemical weapons? If you can make it all the way through its excruciating 90 minutes, Crazy Girls Undercover answers all of these questions and more. But the real question may be, could a movie be any worse? It took several viewings to comprehend the plot of this picture. Unfortunately, each time I sat through the film I became one percent dumber, so it is still not completely clear. Screenwriter Norbert Aleman operates on a different level than your average filmmaker. He has created a world in which logic and reason do not exist. Despite a plot that revolves almost entirely around strippers, Aleman boldly resists the temptation to show any real nudity, opting instead for badly choreographed topless show routines and brief nipple insert shots.

In Aleman's Vegas, terrorists are given VIP treatment in second rate casinos, yet operate undetected by the CIA (which operates out of a bar with a red Dodge Viper parked in front). They also take their private jets to Tiajuana. Everyone runs around with guns drawn, firing inside casinos while the police are nowhere to be found. When Crazy Girl Crystal is beaten up (by Yuri, the white slave trader/kitchen worker), she is fired from the show and replaced by new girl Monica, a recent parolee from New Jersey who gave up stripping to become a professional poker player. Folks, you cannot make this stuff up. There is a bomb maker and a drug dealer, but they are not important here.

Director Chris Langman is simply too busy setting up dolly shots to give any thought to the actors' performances. And his obsession with Riviera Casino establishing shots and cartoon freeze frames borders on the absurd. The cinematography makes Nam Angels look like Apocalypse Now.

How did this movie get made? Simple: the filmmakers rounded up a group of strippers, hired the least qualified cameraman in Hollywood and proceeded to blow close to a million dollars on a film that will leave you in stunned jawdropping disbelief. We can only assume that Norbert Aleman bribed the buyers at Showtime with cash, lap dances and a transvestite or two to get this thing on the air.

The one bright spot in this picture is young actress Nicole Zeoli, who plays Crazy Girl Annie Landon. She not only gives the best performance in the film, but the hope of seeing her incredible body naked is the only reason this reviewer didn't stop watching after the first five minutes. Unfortunately she is only afforded a few scenes, as the filmmakers chose to devote more screen time to close ups of former Sopranos bit player Al Sapienza and his botched hair transplant.

Another nice thing about Crazy Girls Undercover is that after viewing, you will have no desire to waste your money on the real Crazy Girls show at the Riviera on your next trip to Las Vegas.

Rarely do you see a breast exploit movie which also explores some of the deep questions. Why am I here? Is there a god? Oh my head, what the heck did I do last night? I am pretty sure, like the Matrix, the director tapped into philosophical and religious concepts. When that guy rips that girls shirt off as part of his foreplay, you really question concepts like whether the ends justify the means or whether you should pursue a hedonistic lifestyle, or connect to your fellow man by giving your time and money to social causes.

The music subtly explores themes as well. While listening to the background music while a poker game was being played, I could hear the composer asking, "should we have dropped those bombs on Japan?" I know most people will watch this for a little T&A thrill, and miss the symbology at every scene. I noticed a lot of circular shapes, for example. Tables, wheels, hoop earings. Was the film maker suggesting the life is circular? You be the judge.