Squirting for Fun and Profit
Nobody Special
[Risqué has a feature section on the membership side we call “TOC” — standing for Table of Contents. It basically gives us an area to talk about “theme” movies as a whole, rather than drilling down into individual scenes. Of course you can watch the scenes for yourself in order to form your own opinions (or whatever), but we’re pretty sure people tune in for the commentary. … (We could be wrong about that last part, according to some around here.) … The following would be an except from our analysis of a show named Squirt Squad, which was not, as it turned out, a movie about small police officers. Who could have guessed?]
This really should have been a movie about a group of kick-ass women in bathing gear running around punishing ne’er-do-wells with plastic guns full of water. At least then we could have fully embraced the obviously campy intent. It does sort of leave one confused, after all, when you cannot quite be sure if campy was the goal from the outset, or only the result after execution.
Sad, really. Poor little squirts.
If one stretches mightily one could maybe come up with “sorta maybe” plot points, but that would require putting much more effort into that particular element than the producers did. As one might cleverly deduce from the title, this movie did not set out to be deeply thought-provoking. You will basically need to imply the “hey we should have sex” conversations for yourself, but do not dally. You won’t have much time before you’re behind here.
On the upside, by the time you figure that out you will likely be distracted by the behind of the femme de jour by this point, so honestly you may not care.
In the old days when we would actually have to approve scripts for our represented talent, I used to explain a preferred standard to the owners during the early negotiations. The philosophy was fairly easy to state. … “I get that they are having sex. It’s always nice to know why that happens.”
Not well-groomed for gonzo, our little Risqué Business. Heck, I used to charge more for being on set for a couple of hours in some “all sex” movie than we did for being stuck 20 hours on a set with Michael Ninn or Brad Armstrong. With Michael or Brad (or a whole host of others during that time who would occasionally equate “day rate” with a literal 24 hours), we were shooting a movie. In the other situation, they were “just hiring an orifice” — as often explained to the befuddled folks expecting a discount.
Amazing how thinking outside the box can confuse those most regularly hiring … well … the box.
