Plugg

It's been 26 years since I saw this turkey but I can still recall sitting through it with a mounting sense of disbelief that such an inept, unfunny load of dreck could escape the editing room and be fed into a projector.

The film is almost a course in what not to do in a comedy. Plot, jokes, timing, delivery. You name it, it lacks it. Even worse, it was billed as a sex comedy and turned out to be almost devoid of sex.

Writer/director Terry Bourke went on to score some modest successes, but I'll bet he's glad that this fiasco has not been released to cable or video. Pray it stays in the vault.

"Plugg" is a boring and incomprehensible monstrosity of a film.

It is only notable for having the least photogenic main character I have ever seen. Plugg the character is an ugly old man with a useless combover, mutton chop sideburns, and a beer belly. He looks like someone you would find masturbating behind a trenchcoat at the local park, not someone who should be fronting a ridiculous sexploitation romp. Perhaps the filmmakers knew he was an absolute dud; he barely says or does anything throughout the movie, though he does get naked (oh joy!). Unpleasant enough on the eyes while fully clothed, god knows what they were thinking when they had him disrobe. Are we supposed to laugh at how repulsive he is? To do that, you'd have to be able to look at him first.

This guy has no business being in front of the camera. Shame on them for doing this to us.

I have no idea what this movie was actually about. It's one of those comedies that is so bad it borders on surrealism. If a joke is not funny and you don't even know it was supposed to be funny - or was supposed to be a joke - it leaves a bizarre absence of feeling not unlike existential dread. This is not an interesting feeling, however, just one that makes for a depressing viewing experience.

There is, indeed, a lot of nudity, but if that's all you want out of a movie, come on, you can do better than this. All you'll remember is the mutton chops and perhaps, if your memory is cruel to you, the sight of Plugg's naked rear.

Don't waste your time.

I just realised something: this is a movie named after a character that could be removed from the movie and it wouldn't make a difference to the plot. It would be no more, or less, hard to follow. But it would be easier on the eyes, and stomach.

I've started to notice how the now defunct Aussie airline TAA sounds suspiciously like T&A, and you will too. Lewd puns and double ententes litter the script of Plugg, a bizarre no-budget and almost surreal mix of British sex films, Leslie Phillips bedroom farce and Pink Panther parody (!) filmed in Perth, Western Australia and strung together with endless references to bums, tits and 'Capital Pussies' that will scar you for life.

Following the animated credits a la Clouseau and co, Noel (Turkey Shoot, narrator on Pacific Banana) Ferrier's voice-over gives us the fruity lowdown on Plugg, a seedy private investigator on the case of the controversial Pussycat Escorts. Plated by Peter Thompson, a bald badger who walks into rooms whenever breasts present themselves, Plugg represents the bumbling raincoat-clad voyeur in all of us. He is closely followed by Inspector Closer (veteran Sullivans TV series personality Norm Yemm), forever peering down a pair of binoculars and desperately wanting a piece of the Pussycat action. The film ends in a nude aerobic free-for-all in a swanky swimming pool, two Pussycats slung over Closer's shoulders, and Plugg in magistrate's court charged with excessive ogling in a built-up area.

The cumulative effect is culturally jarring to say the least, in the absence of cockney accents or the odd 'phwoar!' from Harry H. Corbett, but famed 70s centerfold Cheryl Rixon as prime Pussycat Kelli Kelly is a knockout. Keen-eared voyeurs will pick up the voice of a much younger Bill Collins (Golden Age of Hollywood presenter) on Plugg's TV, perhaps his only entry in sexploitation's Hall of Shame. I wonder if he now hears 'boing-g-g-g' whenever a set of hooters pop out of a halter top?

Like I said, scarred for life...