All posts by Rod Lott

Steel Trap (2007)

In Japan, Steel Trap is titled Jigsaw: Tower of Death, which is appropriate, because this is nothing if not another Saw-inspired game of gore. Mind you, that’s not a complaint, even if its twist ending is telegraphed early on and executed poorly.

During a rockin’ New Year’s Eve party in an abandoned office building, seven really attractive people — including a celebrity chef and a couple of coke-snorters — are invited to the 27th floor for an invitation-only after-party. Food and drink are just the tip of the knife, too, as a clue informs them that this shindig is a treasure hunt — you know, just like those Nicolas Cage movies, but shorn of historical documents and replaced with viscera.

The table’s place settings sport not only the guests’ names, but unofficial titles like “Loser,” “Heartless” and “Two-Faced,” yet they don’t see anything wrong with that. The clues are given in nursery rhymes, yet they aren’t the least bit creeped out by them. The first one takes them to a disembodied pig’s head wearing a crown, yet they keep on going.

I won’t spoil the deaths; they’re kind of creative in that Final Destination sort of way, and that includes being utterly implausible. But realism isn’t what I ask of films like Steel Trap. Nor crisp dialogue, as this is not: “Signal blocked? What the hell’s that mean?” “It means somebody blocked the signal.” —Rod Lott

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National Lampoon’s TV: The Movie (2006)

What do you get when you take most of the cast of Jackass franchise, but remove Johnny Knoxville, Spike Jonze, Jeff Tremaine and the backing of MTV and Paramount Pictures from the equation? Absolutely zero laughs, judging by National Lampoon’s TV: The Movie.

Partly written and produced by Preston Lacy, who’s like Chris Farley minus comedic timing, TV: The Movie also stars his fellow Jackass asses Steve-O, Jason “Wee Man” Acuna, Chris Pontius and Ehren McGhehey, plus real actors Clifton Collins Jr., Lee Majors, Judd Nelson, Tony Cox, Danny Trejo and Ian Somerhalder, all of whom I’m going to just assume were bribed.

The Kentucky Fried Movie wannabe presents one unfunny sketch after another, with a mix of show and commercial parodies. Among the “targets” are Cops, Fear Factor, Miami Vice, Desperate Housewives and Girls Gone Wild. Among the elements used often to spoof such things: purported jokes built upon drugs, masturbation, homophobia and the word “motherfucker.”

I’m on record admitting to laughing a few times at another recent Lampoon loser, National Lampoon’s Dirty Movie, which plays like Billy Wilder by comparison. At one point, my DVD player kicked out this disc because of a damaged section, which I should’ve taken as a sign. Even technology hates worthless shit. If you find it funny, you’re likely high or living off Jackass royalties, in which case you’re likely high. —Rod Lott

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Superchick (1973)

I knew I was going to dig Superchick once the opening credits read, “Norman Bartold as old policeman.” But, yeah, the sight of Joyce Jillson strutting down an airplane terminal in black hot pants and fuck-me boots, all to a swingin’ soundtrack, sure didn’t hurt. (In fact, it felt good.) Neither did the sight of Thomas Gainsborough’s The Blue Boy, accompanied by a toilet flush, suggesting that high art, this ain’t, so take it or leave it. I’ll take it!

Peyton Place refugee and eventual kook astrologer Jillson essays the role of Tara B. True, a stewardess — yes, back when they were called “stewardesses,” not “flight attendants,” because they said things like, “Coffee, tea or me?” — who’s quite a liberated gal, juggling three lovers in three cities. She’s faithful to all, not counting the lucky dudes she spontaneously inducts into the mile-high club.

One of those is a Marine she nails in the lavatory just to serve her country; the soldier stands at attention. Tara’s the kind of woman who coos threats like, “Last one in bed … gets no head.” She’s a fun girl. And she should be, because Superchick is essentially plotless, no matter how hard it tries to venture into mob territory.

In the loose framework of the film, Tara visits a porn set (where luscious Uschi Digard is fully on display); tokes up at a pot party; kung-fus a biker gang intent on a gang bang; screws a composer inside a piano, twice; chains John Carradine to a wall; loses her bikini bottom in the ocean, leading to some saltwater lovin’; and, finally, foils some hijackers, whereupon her blouse pops open for the TV cameras. You’re cleared for takeoff! —Rod Lott

Buy it at Amazon.