This is the sort of movie that makes you wonder what's wrong with the guy who made it. I mean biologically, like some sort of genetic disorder or notable brain trauma. Writer/director Kevin Lewis must have been suffering from some sort of malady during the production of Malibu Spring Break because too many things about the film only make sense as the result of a high fever, random seizures and misfiring synapses. A mixture of stock footage and single camera incompetence that's edited with all the flair of a bipolar rhino, this thing sucks in so many different ways that it's impossible to believe it's the result of a healthy mind and body.
Bitchy skank Michelle (Charity Rahmer) and her skantastic best friend Brianne (Kristin Novak) talk their way into spending spring break at the Malibu home of Michelle's fat uncle (Mark Allen). They immediately run afoul of Gloria (Pilar M. Lastra), the housekeeper's daughter, and get saddled with Denise (Sara Michelle Ben Av), Michelle's dorky and naïve cousin from Minnesota. The four bicker constantly, especially in two seemingly neverending scenes which are filmed by somebody with a hand-held video camera circling the girls over and over like an indecisive shark, until they agree to stage a big party and see who can land the guy with the best car.
While that's going on, the story incessantly cuts away to a couple of valets at a local restaurant. Randy (Jilon Ghai seriously? Jilon Ghai? He was either born with that name or chose it for his career? Jilon Ghai? Was his mother obsessed with Boggle or something?) is a smarmy sex hound and Jeff (Brian Kolodziej) is his brainy-and-wholesome-only-by-comparison buddy. They spend the first half of Malibu Spring Break yakking away to each other without any apparent connection to the plot, only to have Randy eventually fall in lust with Michelle and Jeff get caught up in Denise's koala bear-like animal magnetism. Everybody, including Michelle's uncle, eventually collide at the big party where Randy is caught jacking off, essentially in mid-date, and it all ends with the tease of a sequel.
If I started listing everything that's terrible about Malibu Spring Break, I wouldn't finish until sometime next week. In the interests of time and my own sanity, I'll just try to give you three examples that symbolize the excremental nature of this movie. To start with, this is a sex comedy that features a Playboy Playmate in one of its leading roles and she doesn't take her clothes off. That is neither a joke nor sarcasm, just the inexplicable truth. Charity Rahmer frequently takes her top off as does Kristin Novak, but the girl whose entire claim to fame is getting naked remains covered up. I can't even begin to fathom the decision making process that led to that result.
This is also a sex comedy where the only sex scene is a dude masturbating under the covers. That's odd enough, but there's a scene early on where Michelle and Brianne jump into the shower and it sounds off camera like they're messing around with each other, yet nothing is ever shown except one shot that's so out of focus it could have been Glenn Beck and Donald Trump feeling each other up. Again, what the hell sort of thinking led to such a presentation? These two actresses actually do show off their boobs in the movie, so there's no problem with modesty. Writer/director James implies their characters are engaging in some Sapphic shower frolic and then willfully refuses to show it to the audience? I am getting a headache trying to figure out how that makes any sense on any level.
Next to those befuddling peculiarities, the cringingly bad overacting, evilly banal dialog, kindergarten level plot, Ugandan film school camera-work, editing that at it's best resembles a bad music video from 1987 and the ear-bleeding onslaught of 11 lousy songs on the soundtrack seem almost beside the point. I don't know why any normal person would sit through more than 10 minutes of this debacle.
At minimum, Malibu Spring Break proves that Kevin Lewis feels no sense of shame. If he did, he would have destroyed all the footage and never let this eternal embarrassment see the light of day.
Bitchy skank Michelle (Charity Rahmer) and her skantastic best friend Brianne (Kristin Novak) talk their way into spending spring break at the Malibu home of Michelle's fat uncle (Mark Allen). They immediately run afoul of Gloria (Pilar M. Lastra), the housekeeper's daughter, and get saddled with Denise (Sara Michelle Ben Av), Michelle's dorky and naïve cousin from Minnesota. The four bicker constantly, especially in two seemingly neverending scenes which are filmed by somebody with a hand-held video camera circling the girls over and over like an indecisive shark, until they agree to stage a big party and see who can land the guy with the best car.
While that's going on, the story incessantly cuts away to a couple of valets at a local restaurant. Randy (Jilon Ghai seriously? Jilon Ghai? He was either born with that name or chose it for his career? Jilon Ghai? Was his mother obsessed with Boggle or something?) is a smarmy sex hound and Jeff (Brian Kolodziej) is his brainy-and-wholesome-only-by-comparison buddy. They spend the first half of Malibu Spring Break yakking away to each other without any apparent connection to the plot, only to have Randy eventually fall in lust with Michelle and Jeff get caught up in Denise's koala bear-like animal magnetism. Everybody, including Michelle's uncle, eventually collide at the big party where Randy is caught jacking off, essentially in mid-date, and it all ends with the tease of a sequel.
If I started listing everything that's terrible about Malibu Spring Break, I wouldn't finish until sometime next week. In the interests of time and my own sanity, I'll just try to give you three examples that symbolize the excremental nature of this movie. To start with, this is a sex comedy that features a Playboy Playmate in one of its leading roles and she doesn't take her clothes off. That is neither a joke nor sarcasm, just the inexplicable truth. Charity Rahmer frequently takes her top off as does Kristin Novak, but the girl whose entire claim to fame is getting naked remains covered up. I can't even begin to fathom the decision making process that led to that result.
This is also a sex comedy where the only sex scene is a dude masturbating under the covers. That's odd enough, but there's a scene early on where Michelle and Brianne jump into the shower and it sounds off camera like they're messing around with each other, yet nothing is ever shown except one shot that's so out of focus it could have been Glenn Beck and Donald Trump feeling each other up. Again, what the hell sort of thinking led to such a presentation? These two actresses actually do show off their boobs in the movie, so there's no problem with modesty. Writer/director James implies their characters are engaging in some Sapphic shower frolic and then willfully refuses to show it to the audience? I am getting a headache trying to figure out how that makes any sense on any level.
Next to those befuddling peculiarities, the cringingly bad overacting, evilly banal dialog, kindergarten level plot, Ugandan film school camera-work, editing that at it's best resembles a bad music video from 1987 and the ear-bleeding onslaught of 11 lousy songs on the soundtrack seem almost beside the point. I don't know why any normal person would sit through more than 10 minutes of this debacle.
At minimum, Malibu Spring Break proves that Kevin Lewis feels no sense of shame. If he did, he would have destroyed all the footage and never let this eternal embarrassment see the light of day.