HELL SQUAD (1986)
Directed by Kenneth Hartford
MGM/UA VHS
THE FILM
It starts with an explosion. It ends with an explosion. And in the middle, a group of commando women nakedly unwind in a gaudy motel hot tub. Together. Frequently.
HLEL SUQDA.
A United States ambassador has a son. His name is Jack. Jack is kidnapped by terrorists because of a "goddamn ultra-neutron bomb". Of course, the government can't sanction a rescue mission because the particulars are "too risky". So a military guy named Jim says, "I just might have a plan".
HELL SUQAD.
Nine Las Vegas showgirls. Ten days of training. One pool on a construction site. Two boob binocular gags. Got it.
HELL SQUAD.
In A Chump At Oxford, Laurel and Hardy spend an entire night fumbling their way through a shrub-maze. That's exactly how I felt while watching Hell Squad. This is a film immersed in blasé simplicity. And yet, every single decision, from script to composition to general consciousness, has gone beautifully awry. Nothing makes sense. Nothing. Had the film been gifted with the distinctive craftsmanship of James Bryan or Doris Wishman, we'd be treasuring it. As is, Hell Squad is the action-trash equivalent of Iced. It never careens into absolute lunacy, but there's enough stupefaction to make us forget where we are and what we're doing at any given moment. Dubbing was supervised by robots. The camera is never in the right place at the right time (unless it's leering at boobs). Direct-to-camera call-to-actions are delivered with placid sass. All of this is what we like.
To clarify, Hell Squad is what happens when someone is kidnapped in America. No cops. No CIA. No Rambo. Just a bunch of showgirls, trained to become expert commandos in ten days so they can save the world. We're not told why and it doesn't matter. Because it's time to have secret meetings in vintage car showrooms. It's time to drive jeeps in the desert. It's time to shoot and stab and karate chop "a-rabs". It's time to commandeer a tank and take over a Universal Studios tram tour and drive out to the desert and drive back sometimes and talk on the phone and do nothing and blow shit up and HOT TUB. Throw in some sub-sub Stripes music cues, hilariously misplaced (and just plain hilarious) comic relief, lots of nudity, and an extremely strange ending, and you've got…something worth watching.
Hell Squad may drag around the hour mark, but be patient. The gals will be hot-tubbin' again in no time.
AUDIO AND VIDEO
This is one of those MGM big box-ers which serves as a self-contained keepcase. It has a flap that opens and closes. The tape goes inside, where it remains safe from the elements. What this means is that over two decades later, your VHS tape of Hell Squad is guaranteed to look and sound fukking superb.
EXTRAS
"And Marvin Miller As The Sheik".
FINAL THOUGHTS
The climax of this film involves punching a transvestite. Immediately following, the girls engage in a round-robin series of alliterations, all delivered without a hint of irony. "Anne or Andy". "Anne or Andre". "Anthony or Antoine". That's dumb. That's awesome. That's Hell Squad. That's why you'll enjoy it.
— Joseph A. Ziemba, 02.17.11 |
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