Writing about mediocre movies is an awful lot like being constipated. At least when a movie’s awful, opinions come out like… well, they come out easily, okay? Trying to figure out what the heck to write about Roger Corman’s Hollywood Boulevard makes me want to reach for the closest enema.
When we starting watching, I thought Hollywood Boulevard was the perfect movie for the night. After all, a stupid comedy about low-budget films with plenty of T&A is more often than not just what the doctor ordered, no? Alas, these elements alone aren’t enough to make a film enjoyable. Admittedly, I should know this by now; this isn’t the first time Corman’s boobs have let me down. Yet I keep coming back for more…
Erich Von Leppe (Paul Bartel) is the director du jour for Miracle Pictures (If it’s a good film, it’s a Miracle!),
one of Hollywood’s many sub-par, low-budget production companies happy to capitalize on the tenacity, persistence and large breasts of Hollywood’s many aspiring starlets. Candy Wednesday is just such a wide-eyed young woman, and soon after she arrives in LA her attentive agent Walter Paisley (Dick Miller) gets her a gig in Von Leppe’s Machete Maidens of Mora Tau.
While filming in the Philippines, Wednesday and the other young women have more than lascivious natives and machine guns to worry about. The “star” of the film, Mary McQueen (Mary Woronov) is jealous, vindictive and willing to do just about anything to make sure no one steals the spotlight from her! Is she to blame when Jill, one of the younger actresses, is accidentally shot during an action scene, or is there another lunatic on the loose?
Well, the answer is, really: who cares? Hollywood Boulevard is kind of like a joke that made you chuckle the first time you heard it, maybe made you smirk the second time, and had you rolling your eyes by the third time. The first fifteen minutes aren’t bad, but then everything goes slightly downhill. It doesn’t really fail in exciting ways, it just kind of fails quietly. By the time it was over, I think I said something like: “Well, that was a… movie… and what’s with all the rape jokes?”
Hollywood Boulevard is really a disappointment more than anything else, especially given the usual dynamic duo of Paul Bartel and Mary Woronov. Though they can’t make this a good movie, they’re probably the best parts about it. The good news is, if you hate waiting for boobs, you’ll have no problem here: you see your first pair before the one-minute mark!