Poison

Oh man. If you want to give your internal Crow T. Robot a real workout, this is the movie to pop into the ol' VCR. The potential for cut-up lines in this film is just endless.

(Minor spoilers ahead. Hey, do you really care if a film of this quality is "spoiled?") Traci is a girl with a problem. Psychology has developed names for it when a child develops a sexual crush on the opposite-sex parent. But this girl seems to have one for her same-sex one, and I don't think there's a term for that. It might be because her mother Dana is played by Rosanna Arquette, whose cute overbite, neo-flowerchild sexuality and luscious figure makes me forgive her any number of bad movies or unsympathetic characters. Here Dana is not only clueless to her daughter's conduct; she seems to be competing for the gold medal in the Olympic Indulgent Mother competition.

It's possible that Dana misses Traci's murderous streak because truth be told, Traci seems to have the criminal skills of a hamster. It's only because the script dictates so that she manages to pull off any kind of a body count.

A particularly hilarious note in this movie is the character of Carmen, a Mexican maid who is described by Dana as around so long she's like one of the family although she dresses in what the director thought would say, "I just fell off the tomato truck from Guadalajara." Carmen is so wise to Traci's scheming, she might also wear a sign saying, "Hey, I'm the Next Victim!" Sure enough, Traci confronts Carmen as Carmen is making her way back from Mass, and bops her with one of those slightly angled lug wrenches that car manufacturers put next to your spare as a bad joke. I rather suspect than in real life those things are as useless as a murder weapon as they are for changing a tire.

In another sequence, Arquette wears a flimsy dress to a vineyard, under cloudy skies, talking to the owner. Cut to her in another flimsy dress under sunny skies, talking to the owner's brother. Then cut to her wearing the first dress, in the first location, under cloudy skies - but it's supposed to be later. You get the picture. We're talking really bad directing.

As for skin, don't expect much, although Traci does own a nice couple of bikinis.

For those looking for a trash wallow, 8. For anybody else, 1/2.

A striking resemblance to poison ivy or more so the hand that rock's the cradle. Which in itself is a good mantle to be held. A good movie of sickness and seduction with the usual plays although it does it well.

Here we have another psycho-girl-on-the-rampage movie, this time portrayed by Mandy Schaffer. She is a seventeen-year-old who is fixated on her mother (Rosanna Arquette) and is never happy when a man comes between them. This time the man (Thomas Kretschman) is the brother of Arquette's business partner (Jurgen Prochnow, in a nice change from his usual creepy bad guy roles). Of course, Schaffer is soon bumping off anybody who gets suspicious or just plain gets in her way. There really is nothing new here, but Arquette is watchable in just about anything, and there's nothing wrong with the occasional cheap thrill, of which this movie provides plenty.

A truly, truly dire Canadian-German co-production, the ever-wonderful Rosanna Arquette plays an actress whose teenage daughter redefines the term "problem child" - a few uears prior to the "action" the child murdered her father, and mum took the fall for the offspring. Now she's moved up to the Northwest US to start over, but her child still has a problem in that she's devoted to her mother. So devoted in fact that she kills anyone who might be seen as a threat to their bond.

Unfortunately Mandy Schaeffer (as the daughter) murders more than people - she delivers such a terrible performance that she also wipes out the movie, though the incoherent script, useless direction and appalling music (check out the saxophone the first time she displays her bikini-clad bod) don't help any; we're supposed to find her sexy and scary, but she fails on both counts. Almost completely unalluring and not even bad enough to be amusing (not to mention the fact that Arquette and Schaeffer don't really convince as mother and daughter), all condolences to Miss Arquette and Jurgen Prochnow, both of whom are worthy of far more than this, and both of whom (particularly Rosanna) are the only sane reasons for anyone to sit through this farrago.

One of the production companies is called Quality International Films - not since the three-hour "Love, Lies And Murder" (from Two Short Productions) has there been such a "You must be joking" credit.

I thought this was a splendid showcase for Mandy's bodacious bod. If you don't expect anything else, such as clever plot twists and believable character development, you won't be disappointed. Consider this a Sports Illustrated shoot whose character goes around killing people, especially those who threaten to come between her and her 'Mommy' (Suzanna Arquette, who obviously doesn't want to play the sex kitten - she leaves that up to her daughter).

Mandy's face is a little too perfect, but her body is a complete 5-alarm fire, up there in the ranks of Sophia Loren when it comes to natural bustiness, a perfect 7-to-10 ratio of waist to hips, and splendidly configured legs, right down to her feet. (There has to be some ideal configuration of thighs to knees to calves to ankles that is altogether pleasing to the eye; Mandy certainly is the model for this idealized ratio).

And no flat butt to boot, which seems to be the undoing of many a busty babe with curves everywhere except in the 'nether hemispheres'. Mandy might have used a body double in the rear shot of her losing her towel as she descended into the candle-lit hot tub with her blindfolded German-Guy Victim No. 2, but from all I could see from her bikini shots, she had the butt for it and didn't need a double to prove it.

Mandy's acting abilities had little to do with her impression of a psychotic 'Mommy's Girl', with the obvious erotic lesbian overtones. Her bisexual nature (allowing herself to be boinked in the hot tub after a long flirtation with German Guy No. 2, who also happened to be her mother's lover) added an additional dimension to an otherwise one-dimensional caricature of adolescent female horniness conflicted with pathological murderous impulses (always by water with the men - the ultimate fate of the Latina housekeeper was edited out in the televised version for some obscure reason).

Mandy's Uber-Nordic facial features coupled with her Uber-Voluptuous body could either be a blessing or a curse. If Mandy really wants to further her career as an actress, I'd advise her to immerse herself fully in the Romance Languages, especially Italian and Spanish - and maybe French, although I don't know if they would go for her type. But this would enable her to reconcile her Bo Derek face with her Vida Guerra body - but maybe her face is just a little too Nordic, and she has shown off too much of her extraordinary body in a cheesy movie to enable her to advance to any more fame that was enjoyed by Michelle Johnson of the 1980's whose early fame in Blame it on Rio was followed by a series of skin flicks that failed to make it off the ground.

Vambo Drule.