Of the many Smokey and the [Insert Noun Here] movies that followed Burt Reynolds’ Bandit box-office bonanza, Smokey & the Judge is arguably the most obscure. Oddly, it’s the only one that stars a music group with a Billboard hit: Hot, the R&B trio of Gwen Owens, Cathy Carson and Juanita Curiel.
Yeah, I hadn’t heard of them, either.
At any rate, their one and only movie (aka Makin’ It, Runnin’ Hot and Strong Together) follows the three ladies of Hot as they pursue chart stardom. Margo (Owens) and Carol (Carson) just have to get out of prison first. While behind bars, Carol responds to a computer dating ad by giving answers like “peanut butter underwear.” This matches her with Morris Levy (Darrow Igus, John Carpenter’s The Fog), who happens to be a talent manager and promises them an L.A. recording contract.
Once they’re out and joined by Carol’s pal Maria (Curiel), Morris books them into a dumpy bar where a construction worker in a hard hat brings his beer-drinking pet snake. With great voices to make up for no personalities, the girls are a hit with the crowd! If only they can keep from running afoul of the redneck sheriff (Gene Price), the corpulent judge (Joe Marmo, American Drive-In), their bitchy parole officer (A’leshia Brevard, TV’s Legend of the Superheroes) and other miscreants, they may just make it after all.
So much for story! The running time is padded with half a dozen more-than-competent song performances, plus weak car chases, a Volkswagen Bus explosion, a biplane explosion, non-exploding motorcycles, gas siphoning, dog pissing, hot pants wearing, Harper Valley P.T.A.-ready sex pranks and one aggressive act of pouring ketchup down the crotch of Hack-O-Lantern’s repellent Hy Pyke.
Just as Hot was a one-hit wonder (“Angel in Your Arms”), Smokey & the Judge is Dan Seeger’s only movie as director. Having edited Al Adamson’s Death Dimension, he’s as terrible behind the camera as you’d think. Although some of the jail scenes are shot in a genuine clinker, others clearly were done in an apartment, complete with a “NO TOUCHING” sign Sharpie’d by hand. None of this amounts to a recommendation, not even for nondiscerning hicksploitation fans. —Rod Lott