by Joe Bob Briggs

[waiting for missing data]

y. Okay, okay, I know, we got nine breasts. But they're all on  this *one* bimbo from France who goes around saying stuff like,  "You caaaahn't just buurst into a person's life and just blow it  all up like this." He's Richard Gere, honey, and he can bust up  what he wants. Remember when Gere got nekkid in Dianen Keaton's  apartment and started going gonzo because of Nam and he jerked  out this switchblade and started breathing hard through his teeth  and jumping around like he was high on industrial-strength Comet  cleanser? That's one of my favorite scenes, but Gere's been  doing indoor bullstuff ever since.

Now we got Gere messing around with chicks who han't got no  respect for the English language.

Best thing about this flick is all the Jerry Lee Lewis  tunes, but what the hey, I saw the original footage -- "Rock  Around the Clock," "High School Confidential" -- and apparently  these turkeys couldn't afford Jerry Lee himself because they just  have Gere playing a bunch of wimp cassette tapes. Gere starts  out in Vegas, hot-wiring this Porsche, and then tooling across  the desert playing chicken with eighteen-wheelers.

Now I would like to say just one thing right here before we  go any farther. I have no personal knowledge of any techniques  used to borrow the motor vehicles of others. I have never  knowingly accepted a ride in a vehicle of the stolen persuasion.  I do not have any idea of what Gus Simpson is referring to when  he uses words like "stealing some squealing wheels for the  weekend." The plates on my '73 Toronado are legal in most  states. I know nothing about the midnight paint jobs at Gus  Simpson's Auto Repair on Highway 80.

Okay, like I was saying, all Richard Gere does in this flick  is grand theft auto. First this cop runs him down in the middle  of the desert, and Gere has to *accidentally* blow him away  (sure, Dickie). Only then he freaks out and heads for L.A. and  pulls a breaking-and-entering at Valerie Kaprisky's apartment.  Valerie is the French after-dinner mint Gere wants to get a taste  of. He met her in Vegas, only she went to L.A. to build  cardboard houses in college. Gere steals a pink car to make her  happy, but she won't fork over the groceries, if you know what I  mean and I think you do. So Gere goes and reads comic books for  a while and then he goes back to the bimbo's apartment and gets  nekkid and puts on a Meskin sombrero and sits in bed waiting for  her so that when she comes home he can say my favorite line of  the movie, which is "Show me your ..." Actually, I can't say  what my favorite line of the movie is because of recent  *restrictions* placed on my First Amendment rights by the owners  of this newspaper and several other big companies that could  pretty much grind me into the dirt like a wet french fry.

Then Gere and Valerie go swimming.

Then Gere and Valerie take a shower.

Then Gere and Valerie take a nap.

If you know what I mean.

And I think you do.

Next thing is, Valerie's pregnant. This takes about five  minutes for her to get pregnant, but Richard is not the swiftest  human being that ever fell off a turnip truck, so he believes  her. He has to go steal another motor vehicle so they can go to  Mexico, only when he takes this beautiful T-Bird to the Goss-on- Ross of L.A. city, the junkyard creepola won't fork over the 1200  bucks and so Gere has to steal another one, and then after the  cops catch him and Valerie at this Meskin dancehall warehouse,  they have to steal another one which they run smack over a tire- treadle dealie like the ones they have at the Gemini, only Gere  goes over it backwards and cuts up a set of Firestone Radials so  bad it makes you want to puke.

Then Gere and Valerie go to this movie house and hide behind  the screen and start rooting around back there, and after that  they go to a used-car lot and pick out a red El Dorado and he  steals it for her and then they go to sleep in the car up on a  mountain in Hollywood, and the next morning it's curtains for  Gere.

That's about it. By the time the cops figure out what's  going on, Gere has more time on grand theft auto stuff than he  does on the dead cop. All this proves is that you need to think  up a good story to have a good flick, you just can't go out on  the streets and point the camera and take pictures of what's  going on every day. No originality in this flick. To give you  some idea, Joyce Pribble was so bummed out that after the shower  stuff, I let her take off her shoulder restraints and she kept  her clothes on the *entire* evening even though she'll normally  pop her top every time she hears the national anthem.

Not "Breastless," but only nine little ones. Heads do not  roll. Excellent motor vehicle chases, but only three of 'em.  Good psycho driving by Gere. No kung fu. No creatures. Great  Jerry Lee Lewis tunes. One and a half corpses because of the  indoor-bullstuff ending. Valerie Kaprisky is a "7."

It's no "Gas Pump Girls," but it's okay. Two stars.

Joe Bob says check it out.

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