garella
Joined Apr 1999
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Reviews14
garella's rating
A cinematic triumph. Pamela and Tommy Lee's Sex Video, supposedly stolen from the newlyweds' house, is nothing but buoyant fun. Pamela Anderson Lee, the internationally lusted-after Baywatch star, is positively unsinkable as she frolics in the buff off the Lees' Jacuzzi-equipped pleasure cruiser.
Speaking of pleasure cruisers, Tommy's is cinema's real Titanic, although in this case it never founders. (Tommy Lee first made his name -- for what it's worth -- in the brainless 80s teen-rock band Motley Cru. You can certainly see where he got his self-confidence.)
Even Pamela's famously plasticized accessories don't ring a false note. Who's to say what's real; they show up on videotape, right? Besides, there's no faking dialogue like:
Pamela: "Where's my cocktail?"
Tommy: "It's right here, baby." (he pans downward)
It's too bad the happy couple's dissolute pleasures are marred by excessive expressions of love and devotion.
"You're the best f---ing husband in the world!" Pamela squeals.
Other than that bit of sentimentality, this is forty-five minutes worth of premium Americana -- show-biz success enjoyed the way God intended it: in a four-wheel-drive truck, rocking its shocks to pieces in the breakdown lane of the I-5.
(Note: If IMDb doesn't want certain words included in reviews, even when those words are actual quotations from the film, then perhaps IMDb should not include films that contain such nasty words in its database.)
Speaking of pleasure cruisers, Tommy's is cinema's real Titanic, although in this case it never founders. (Tommy Lee first made his name -- for what it's worth -- in the brainless 80s teen-rock band Motley Cru. You can certainly see where he got his self-confidence.)
Even Pamela's famously plasticized accessories don't ring a false note. Who's to say what's real; they show up on videotape, right? Besides, there's no faking dialogue like:
Pamela: "Where's my cocktail?"
Tommy: "It's right here, baby." (he pans downward)
It's too bad the happy couple's dissolute pleasures are marred by excessive expressions of love and devotion.
"You're the best f---ing husband in the world!" Pamela squeals.
Other than that bit of sentimentality, this is forty-five minutes worth of premium Americana -- show-biz success enjoyed the way God intended it: in a four-wheel-drive truck, rocking its shocks to pieces in the breakdown lane of the I-5.
(Note: If IMDb doesn't want certain words included in reviews, even when those words are actual quotations from the film, then perhaps IMDb should not include films that contain such nasty words in its database.)
It's not a porn movie, declares the box that holds Hustler White, a mid-90s look at the gay prostitute scene in LA. True enough, although some of the acting's not much better.
What is better is that there's the ring of truth beneath the silly plot and stilted dialogue. These hold together numerous scenes that are nothing like what you've seen before. But you'll enjoy it more if you can keep from distancing yourself, so try.
You may have no problem, or you may run screaming from scenes that include duct-taping, train-pulling, and, um, stumping. Your loss if you do.
What is better is that there's the ring of truth beneath the silly plot and stilted dialogue. These hold together numerous scenes that are nothing like what you've seen before. But you'll enjoy it more if you can keep from distancing yourself, so try.
You may have no problem, or you may run screaming from scenes that include duct-taping, train-pulling, and, um, stumping. Your loss if you do.
If it doesn't irk you when a plot hinges on inexplicable errors made by supposedly intelligent characters, then you may not be annoyed by 'The Truth About Cats and Dogs,' a romantic comedy starring Janeane Garofalo as Abby, a supposedly intelligent, supposedly insightful, and supposedly unattractive veterinarian who hosts a radio call-in show.
A shy photographer (Brian or Eric or something) calls in to the show having trouble with a large dog he's mounted on roller skates for a shoot. Oh, he's so cuuuute!!! Our heroine is in a tizzy. They make a date, but too insecure to face him herself, Abby sends her neighbor, Uma Thurman. How this plan is supposed to work to Abby's advantage, I can't say. Time after time Abby and Uma pass up opportunities to straighten out the confusion. It's a good thing too, because that gives them time to learn a valuable lesson about looks and love, which is: Nice guys don't care about looks. Uh huh.
But audiences do, saith the producers. Thus we have the famously fabulous Thurman cast against girl-next-door Garofalo, who is no slouch in the looks department. So, as Abby, she is frumped up from the start in dowdy, fat-girl clothes and flat hair. It's the oldest trick in pictures. As the credits slowly approach, Abby magically acquires better clothes, a more flattering hairstyle, and a makeup job that gives her lush lips and discernible cheekbones. I guess looks still count for something.
A shy photographer (Brian or Eric or something) calls in to the show having trouble with a large dog he's mounted on roller skates for a shoot. Oh, he's so cuuuute!!! Our heroine is in a tizzy. They make a date, but too insecure to face him herself, Abby sends her neighbor, Uma Thurman. How this plan is supposed to work to Abby's advantage, I can't say. Time after time Abby and Uma pass up opportunities to straighten out the confusion. It's a good thing too, because that gives them time to learn a valuable lesson about looks and love, which is: Nice guys don't care about looks. Uh huh.
But audiences do, saith the producers. Thus we have the famously fabulous Thurman cast against girl-next-door Garofalo, who is no slouch in the looks department. So, as Abby, she is frumped up from the start in dowdy, fat-girl clothes and flat hair. It's the oldest trick in pictures. As the credits slowly approach, Abby magically acquires better clothes, a more flattering hairstyle, and a makeup job that gives her lush lips and discernible cheekbones. I guess looks still count for something.