Hard Hunted — emphasis on the Hard — never strays from writer/director Andy Sidaris’ formula that made all his previous entries so successful. After all, had Sidaris done otherwise, the series never would have made it past No. 2. This would have dealt a blow to mankind.

A slimy, foreign rich guy who lives on a boat is trying to get back this glowing green paperweight-type thing that was stolen from him. Trying to stop him are spies played by former Playboy centerfolds Dona Spier, Roberta Vasquez and Cynthia Brimhall, and for some dumb reason, a couple of guys, too.

They communicate with one another via not-so-thinly-veiled messages on the local radio station, Hawaii’s KSXY, manned by a melon-heavy DJ (Ava Cadell) who likes to do her show from the comfortable confines of the hot tub. We wholeheartedly support this decision.

The gals are pursued by a Japanese guy in a stealth helicopter, Dona falls from a chopper and gets amnesia (in a subplot that brilliantly predates Christopher Nolan’s Memento — nah, just kidding), Brimhall sings three whole terrible songs, comic relief is supplied by two guys named “Wiley” and “Coyote,” and Tony Peck (son of Gregory) gets laid. As with the entire Sidaris oeuvre, Hard Hunted comes highly recommended to heterosexual males who subscribe to the theory of “the bigger, the better.” —Rod Lott

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The plot of Bail Out is too convoluted for its own good, but all you really know is this: It stars and was produced by one Mr. David Hasselhoff.

Davey plays “White Bread,” a tennis instructor and bounty hunter hired by an annoying Jewish bail bondsman to make sure spoiled heiress Nettie Ridgeway (The Exorcist‘s Linda Blair) shows up in court. Then he turns into Rambo when she’s kidnapped by swarthy foreign types with Uzis. With the help of his skip-tracin’ pals Blue (the black guy) and Bean (the Hispanic guy), he vows to rescue her.

At first, Nettie doesn’t even like White Bread (who can blame her?), leaving him stranded without clothes at a cheap sex motel. Earlier, he plays air tennis with a stripper while she dances onstage! The strangest moment, however, comes courtesy the bail bondsman, who refuses to pay Bean in cash because his family will “use it to buy marijuana and wine!”

Despite all the dead bodies, the movie wants to be funny, too. Unfortunately, its attempts at humor are reminiscent of the lame ’80s NBC TV-movies loaded with sitcom stars like Night Court’s Richard Moll, Family Ties’ Tina Yothers, a lesser Cosby kid or two and of course Jackée from 227. You know the ones: They were either set in Europe or at a summer camp.

Hasselhoff’s in way over his head in this one on all fronts. He even says to himself, “I can’t believe he called me ‘fuckface!’” Really, David? —Rod Lott

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Roger Moore’s seventh go-round as James Bond doubled as his last, and proof that it was time for him to go occurs almost immediately in A View to a Kill. During the otherwise fine ski-and-snowmobile-chase prologue, Agent 007 knocks out a couple of Russian goons by snowboarding into their faces, at which point the soundtrack blasts a soundalike version of The Beach Boys’ “California Girls.” Never mind this scene takes place half a world away from the Golden State — it’s that anyone thought that joke was a good idea is what we should be worried about.

One Duran Duran title sequence later, the real story begins, with blimp-loving French industrialist Max Zorin (Christopher Walken, awesome as ever) plotting a microchip monopoly by striking Silicon Valley. 007 poses as a reporter to get close to Zorin and his mannish henchwoman, May Day (pop singer Grace Jones, frightening as ever) — one of Bond’s four sexual conquests within a tedious two hours and 11 minutes, including a hot-tubbing Alison Doody (Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade) and Virginia Slims-voiced blank slate Tanya Roberts (The Beastmaster).

Every time Bond is called upon to do more than throw a punch, workmanlike director John Glen (Octopussy) uses an obvious stunt double for Moore, then nearly 60, and the hair color doesn’t even match. Still, this does not keep the action set pieces from impressing — from a foot pursuit up the Eiffel Tower that becomes a car chase on the ground, to 007 swinging from an errant fire engine ladder through heavy traffic. The climactic Golden Gate Bridge finale is less notable, due to dated effects.

And speaking of dated, that Communism and the KGB loom over the film as big baddies is almost charming in a post-Cold War era. Moore’s inability to even try, however, is not. Look for Maud Adams and Dolph Lundgren in blink-and-miss-’em cameos; I missed ’em. —Rod Lott

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Equal parts Rush Hour and Rumble in the Bronx, Jackie Chan stars in The Accidental Spy as a mild-mannered fitness equipment salesman thrust into a world of espionage after he foils a bank robbery. He’s then recruited by an impressed government to play spy games involving drugs and chemical agents, and learns his dying father — whom he never knew — was quite the secret agent himself.

Like father, like son … except the son is Jackie Chan, so one can expect a heaping side of shenanigans with that derring-do. Therefore, there’s a great scene where Jackie escapes from the bad guys all while rigging their fortress to come tumbling down. This is one-upped by the climactic tanker-truck-on-fire set piece.

But the highlight has him running naked from a spa through a crowded outdoor market, trying to fight off a horde of pursuers while attempting to protect his modesty. The mix of humor and pathos isn’t always an easy one, as if the globetrotting Spy can’t decide which way it should lean. However minor in the grander scheme of Chan’s career, it’s still a solid homegrown effort that showcases his aging form ably. —Rod Lott

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As the opening credits immediately inform you, this Italian crime film stars Lee Van Cleef. Midway through these credits, it informs you again, flashing “STARRING LEE VAN CLEEF” on the screen several times in rapid succession, as if to say, “Can you believe it? How lucky are we? I mean, c’mon! Lee Van friggin’ Cleef!”

Van Cleef plays a gangland boss who gets himself thrown in prison for some reason (perhaps the car bomb rigged to detonate with the insertion of an 8-track tape?), then he wants out, but is sent to death row, so he has to break out to get revenge on the goombahs who killed his brother.

He does all of this with the help of an easygoing criminal fella who wears a wide array of gawdy suspenders, has a girlfriend with large Italian breasts and positively has a nonsexual crush on Van Cleef. The guy is played by The French Connection‘s Tony Lo Bianco, but he acts like Tony Danza. Hell, he should be Tony Danza, playing Tony Danza. His character, in time-honored Tony Danza fashion, is even named Tony! Tony Danza and Lee Van Cleef — oh, Lord, what we shall never have …

I can’t say I understood all of Escape from Death Row (HOLY SHIT! STARRING LEE VAN CLEEF!) but for its sheer, goofy Italianness — and its inclination to reprise its haunting horn-and-piano theme every two minutes — I sure enjoyed it. One minute, Lee is tossing a live hair dryer into an enemy’s bathwater; the next minute, they’re being chased by the police in a pursuit so wacky and pratfall-laden, the only thing it lacks is Jerry Reed and a CB. —Rod Lott

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