In a premise so sleazy you’d expect it to be rated X, Stealing Candy has three ex-cons plot to kidnap glamorous but prudish movie star Candy Tyler, and force the busty blonde to have sex on the Internet in a one-time-only event so they can net millions.

The bad guys are played by Daniel Baldwin, Coolio and Alex McArthur (aka the fat one, the black one and the one who’s aging so poorly he looks like Jan Michael-Vincent). McArthur is the mastermind, recruiting prison buddy Coolio to help with the forced entry (of Candy’s house, mind you) and Baldwin to handle the technical end of things, which entails lots of really fast typing and making lines of code scroll onscreen.

Candy (luscious Jenya Lano), who has a no-nudity clause in her contract, agrees to, um, perform, but only to save her life. When it comes time for the big bang, the movie actually delivers the goods. And when the netcast is over and $13 million sitting in an offshore account, alliances are tested, secrets are revealed, tables are turned and Lano’s breasts go back in her bustier.

Lano’s no great shakes as an actress, but in the shaking department, she’s tops! In other words, she’s teasingly voluptuous enough to make the movie work. At one point, Coolio tells Lano she has the nicest “tits and ass I seen in a long time,” and it’s hard to argue. Without her, the movie would just be another turd on one of the lesser Baldwin brothers’ résumé.

I’m not sure Baldwin is playing a simpleton or if he simply is a simpleton; it’s too close to call. But I’m pretty sure Coolio is playing himself, and doing so terribly; every line is delivered in that macho rap-video posturing solely to convince us he’s a hardcore thug. You’re not — your name is Coolio, for crying out loud.

It’s effectively directed by Mark L. Lester (whose big-budget days of Commando and Firestarter are long gone), making for a no-brainer nugget of death and D-cups worth your meager four-dollar investment. —Rod Lott

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Although dated, AIP’s nuclear-family thriller Panic in Year Zero! still resonates today, and is a good candidate for remake status.

Ray Milland (who also directs), his wife and two kids are on their way to a fishing and camping trip when their hometown of Los Angeles is hit with a nuclear bomb. Civilization quickly breaks down, with price gouging and looting abound. Milland struggles to keep his family alive amidst the chaos, even though he has to clock the occasional gasoline attendant, set innocent people’s cars on fire or hold up a hardware store to do so.

Eventually, they find relative peace and quite in a cave, but it is short-lived, as their situation soon spirals into rape and murder. Milland spends the movie barking orders to son Frankie Avalon and rarely takes off his hat and suit, despite the apparent end of the world.

But he’s awesome, just as he was in other AIP greats of the time, like X – The Man with X-Ray Eyes. And despite all its moments of implausability, Panic is solid B-moviemaking, delivering thrills on a tight budget. Plus, it’s hard not to think about our world’s current situation and wonder what you would do under the same circumstances.

I’d at least ditch the tie. —Rod Lott

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Taking its inspiration from a line of a poem I’m not pretentious enough to have memorized in my academic career, Burning Bright pits Briana Evigan and a grade-school Rain Man against a tiger. Trapped in their house. During a hurricane. Seriously.

But wait! It all makes sense within the context of the picture, one which is actually quite suspenseful and something of a buried gem.

With her mom dead by suicide, Kelly (Evigan) may have to postpone college until she can afford to put her autistic little brother, Tom (Charlie Tahan), in a home. Their sleazy stepfather, Johnny (Garret Dillahunt), blew all their bucks on a vicious tiger he bought from Meat Loaf (Meat Loaf) for a tourist zoo he wants to open.

Johnny boards Kelly and Tom inside because of the oncoming storm and heads to the bar … but not before letting his new purchase slip inside, too. ZOMG KITTEH!!! Thus begins a half-literal game of cat-and-mouse that shouldn’t be able to sustain itself for more than an hour, yet does.

Making that feat all the more impressive is that this is only the second film from director Carlos Brooks, who has a great eye for framing and a Hitchcockian gift for building tension. It helps that he used a real, honest-to-God, big-ass-toothed tiger, whereas most filmmakers would’ve gone the easy route with letting the tech guys add one later with … I dunno, MacPaint or whatever it is they use. —Rod Lott

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If you happen to be a member of my demographic, chances are the words “Charles Grodin,” “sexy blonde” and “diamond heist” lead you to think of only one movie. Yes, The Great Muppet Caper is awesome and probably the best example of the Muppets’ cinematic oeuvre. That said, it turns out those very same words can be applied to another film — you just have to imagine Candice Bergen in the place of Miss Piggy.

11 Harrowhouse stars Grodin (who also scripted) as a small-time diamond broker who is hired by Trevor Howard to buy and cut a stone worth $1 million. His entry into the big time is cut short, however, when he and his wealthy, widowed girlfriend, Bergen, are robbed before they can deliver the jewel.

Unwilling to accept her help to pay back the money he owes, Grodin decides to relieve John Gielgud and the market-controlling “System” of their hidden stash of diamonds, with the help of a cancer-stricken James Mason and a painted cockroach.

As directed by Aram Avakian, 11 Harrowhouse moves with a confident, restrained sophistication currently absent in present-day productions. Grodin’s work on the script is clearly evident in his character’s narration and the film’s dry, but often hilarious humor (Bergen especially benefits from the lines she’s given). The heist itself is simple, but ingenious, and bears better scrutiny than those found in similar films.

A genuine underrated classic, this is the kind of movie that keeps you smiling hours after it has ended. —Allan Mott

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Haven’t seen P1? Me neither, but it’s not required to get right into P2, a somewhat-around-average thriller, written and produced — yet oddly not directed — by Splat Pack member Alexandre Aja (High Tension, The Hills Have Eyes, Mirrors, Piranha 3D).

Rachel Nichols (G.I. Joe: The Rise of Cobra) unconvincingly plays a ballsy businesswoman whose Christmas Eve plans get ruined when she’s held hostage in her office building’s multilevel parking lot by obsessed attendant Tom (Wes Bentley, American Beauty). When her car won’t start, he “helps” her, starting with knocking her out with a good-ol’-fashioned rag o’ ether.

When Angela comes to, she’s been changed into a white party dress from which her ample breasts struggle to escape, and I’d be lying if I said this decision didn’t hold my attention for the remainder of an otherwise routine film. You’ve seen it before: Weird Guy menaces Hot Girl, Weird Guy kills innocents who wander in, then Hot Girl and Her Talented Boobs finally decide to fight back. What took you so long, Ang? Waiting for that nail to break?

What you might not have seen is how gruesomely the psychotic Tom dispatches one of those innocents. Just watch for the car-vs.-office-chair scene and prepare to wince. Bentley’s career may be like this film’s setting — in the basement — and should be for his Elvis impression, but Nichols’ is on the rise. And no wonder: She’s hot. P2? More like 34C. Zing! —Rod Lott

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