Trixie, Camaro and Hel
W and I watched a Netflix movie last night.
We both love movies, but we only watch on average one DVD per month. Kids, cats, work and exhaustion from kids, cats and work usually get in the way of at-home movie nights.
We remain optimistic about the possibility of seeing more movies though. Our Netflix queue is 59 deep. At this rate, it will take us five years to go through our current queue. I will be 50 and too mature for 21 Jump Street and Cedar Rapids. Well, it could happen.
W came up with this great idea of putting all of our lesbian movies at the top of our queue. The theory was that scantily clad women and girl-on-girl action would help us put a sizeable dent in our list of unwatched movies.
The strategy hasn’t really worked. Lesbian-themed movies are not flying out of here in their little red envelopes. I think that just means we’re really old. And, that we have too many kids and cats. Most times we’re content to just crawl into bed and watch Pawn Stars or Cats from Hell or Snooki and JWoww or whatever other crap is on TV.
There was a time in my life that I could blow through But I’m a Cheerleader, The Incredibly True Adventure of Two Girls in Love and Disc 3 of Season 2 of The L Word in a single night, but those days of unrequited lesbian lust are way behind me.
Anyway, last night was a designated movie night. A designated lesbian movie night.
So, sometimes W and I get weird and pretend to be off-put by such movies. It’s like pretending to be a Republican.
W: So, you didn’t put this movie in our queue?
Me: Of course not. This is outrageous! Netflix will be hearing from me about this mishap.
W: You definitely need to contact Netflix and let them know about this.
Me: Don’t you worry your pretty little head. Netflix will be hearing about the deviant material that they shipped unsolicited to our home. (Shaking my fist.)
W: You know, since we have the movie, even though Netflix sent it by mistake, we should probably watch it. Even though they totally screwed up.
Me: I know. You’re right. (Deep sigh.) We should probably watch it. Because they sent it and all. I bet the Romneys don’t have to deal with this crap.
This is my new barometer of what is right and acceptable and good. Mitt and Ann.
W: You’re sure you didn’t put this in our queue?
W: Ok, just making sure. So what is this movie about anyway?
Me: I don’t know. Let me read the Netflix write-up. The movie is called Bitch Slap.
W: I don’t mean to interrupt you, but where would one — if one was interested in this type of alternative entertainment — hear about said movie?
Me: Ummm … gee, I don’t know. Maybe in some kind of magazine. That comes in the mail. In a black plastic wrapper.
W: I see.
Me: Alright, back to the summary. “Three naughty girls …”
W: Ok, let’s watch.
Me: You are way too easy. (I continue reading.) “Three naughty girls — leggy stripper Trixie, homicidal drug runner Camaro and high-powered businesswoman Hel — team up to rip off a crime kingpin, but surprise betrayals quickly spin events out of control. Guns, hand-to-hand combat, scantily clad women and plenty of tongue-in-cheek humor populate this guilty-pleasure throwback to 1960s and ’70s exploitation films.”
We put the movie in and it’s all boobs and cleavage and heaving bosoms and guns and more boobs and cleavage and heaving bosoms. All in a good way. The plot was a little weird and hard to follow but that was offset by all of the breasts.
The movie mostly takes place in the desert and at one point our female leads find an endless supply of water to pour on each other. It was like Flashdance in the Sahara or a Super Bowl sideline. I kept waiting for Bill Parcells to show up and kill my breast buzz.
Not so sexy
Lucy Lawless and Renee O’Connor have bit parts, which gave the movie extra lesbian cred.
Xena Warrior Princess and Gabrielle
At some point, the movie freezes and we have to skip ahead, missing relevant plot points, no doubt.
W gets bored about three-quarters of the way through and starts checking out Trixie, Camaro and Hel’s bios on IMDb. “None of these actresses have ever been in anything before,” she says incredulously.
“How dare you!” I say. “These are finely trained thespians.”
Good breasts buy a lot in my world.
After 109 minutes of kick-ass grrl action, W reminds me to contact Netflix about the problem.
Me: Oh, you mean that scratch on the disc?
W: Yeah. And the fact that they sent us a movie that we didn’t order.
Me: Oh. That. Right.
What are the top 5 movie on your Netflix queue?
Here are ours:
- The Fountain
- Tipping the Velvet
- Barney’s Version
- Go Fish