It sure is a hard life or Larry Barnes. He’s had a rough time living with an insanely sexy wife Erica, who so happens to be a witch who practices black magic. After failing to curse one of Larry’s business rivals, Larry and Erica clash causing Erica to fall to her death. After casting out his other very sexy female lover and Erica’s sister Maria, she threatens to make his life miserable for causing the death of Erica. After moving on, Amelia, the wife of Larry’s rival is still very bitter and angry about her husband being confined to a wheelchair. Intent on causing hell for Larry, she gives Larry’s new very sexy girlfriend Carol a medallion that Amelia uses as a means of taking control of Carol.
As softcore schlock goes, director Fred Olen Ray’s wild west romp is only sub-par, and not as entertaining as his previous bikini films. I mean how do you film a girl on girl on girl scene without even showing any of them chewing on rug? Hell, in one moment Beverly Lynne and Nicole Sheridan literally begin fighting over Belinda Gavin’s betweens, but we never actually see any of the good stuff. But I digress. While “Bikini Round Up” is just sub-par, what I really enjoy about the movie is that everything, from top to bottom is implied.
Kylee Nash. Oh my god. Kylee Nash. Oh my god. Kylee Nash. Oh my god. Now that that’s out of my system, Fred Olen Ray has introduced us to a trio of women infinitely sexier than Charlie’s Angels and a lot funnier. Able to get in just about anywhere thanks to their assets, so to speak, they’re the best of the best. Even if they walk around half naked and with see through clothing even during top secret meetings. Hey, I don’t question the universe Fred Olen Ray unfolds, I just enjoy it.
I don’t know what’s weirder, the fact that movie is a satire of women in prison movies or that I recognized that 90 percent of the cast for “Bikini Chain Gang” are porn stars. But then Fred Olen Ray’s comedy about women in prison is really just a mid-level porno that’s about ninety minutes. Well–fifty, when you cut out the monotonous sex scenes that injected mid-story. Basically, the story is so utterly simple it’s as if Fred Olen Ray wrote the premise down on a cocktail napkin in between bouts of Scotch and sniffing coke off of Asian strippers’ backs.