Even being drunk with a bunch of close friends, which is how I saw it, doesn't make it any more palatable.
This film sank many budding film careers, judging by how many of the actors appear in only this one little experiment in excrement. (One notable exception is Danny Elfman.) Hervé Villechaize is probably the best actor of the whole lot, which should give you some idea of the depth and quality of acting brought together in this bastard-piece.
Whoever pitched this idea to the producers must have forgotten to budget for sets or costumes; what they got looks like they snuck into an empty filming stage on some weekend and used whatever they could find in the way of costumes and sets lying about. The "teleportation" doorway is nothing more than - I kid you not - a large pair of buttocks drawn on a sheet hung loosely on the wall. So much for the "fantasy" angle.
I don't remember much about the film (thankfully), except for a few unsavory images of Herve permanently burned into my memory, and a vague recollection of a dance sequence near the end featuring someone resembling Cloris Leachman. I guess it's good that such a work is so forgettable, otherwise I'd be waking up screaming in the middle of the night from flashbacks.
I suppose this film might be a good source of campy entertainment for a suitably inebriated fraternity on an otherwise wasted Saturday afternoon.
Well, no, probably not.
This film sank many budding film careers, judging by how many of the actors appear in only this one little experiment in excrement. (One notable exception is Danny Elfman.) Hervé Villechaize is probably the best actor of the whole lot, which should give you some idea of the depth and quality of acting brought together in this bastard-piece.
Whoever pitched this idea to the producers must have forgotten to budget for sets or costumes; what they got looks like they snuck into an empty filming stage on some weekend and used whatever they could find in the way of costumes and sets lying about. The "teleportation" doorway is nothing more than - I kid you not - a large pair of buttocks drawn on a sheet hung loosely on the wall. So much for the "fantasy" angle.
I don't remember much about the film (thankfully), except for a few unsavory images of Herve permanently burned into my memory, and a vague recollection of a dance sequence near the end featuring someone resembling Cloris Leachman. I guess it's good that such a work is so forgettable, otherwise I'd be waking up screaming in the middle of the night from flashbacks.
I suppose this film might be a good source of campy entertainment for a suitably inebriated fraternity on an otherwise wasted Saturday afternoon.
Well, no, probably not.