A Nice Pair: The Adventures of Lucky Pierre, Part 7

Start here if new to this series: Part 1

This broken toy of a film winds down to a screeching halt with it's final cornucopia of boobs and butts, and only minor interruptions from the pug-faced, human-form playdough Billy Falbo.

You will notice the film switches from B&W to color in this segment.  The reason is contained in what seems like a fourth-wall joke, but is more likely that Lewis ran out of color film, or more likely, Falbo's presence drained the very color from reality.

Picnic at the Playground

Filmed exclusively on a human leg cross-section.

In this segment, there's no picnic.  There's no food.  There is a playground (most old drive-ins had playgrounds attached,) and there's a severe lack of clothes.  It stars the same three women from the segment before, so you're in for the same half-assed jokes as before.

Enjoy!

 Hey Boo-Boo, I'm suddenly not interested in the pic-a-nic baskets!

Our three hot chicks are spending a day, not at all, in any way, having a picnic.  They are about to play in the sand and on various rickety playground equipment -- in high heels -- in a Lewis movie which means there's no health insurance and the catering is done by two gin-soaked winos who robbed a donut shop last night.

So, with no further ado:

Let's Introduce Our Lovely Ladies!

 Angry at something, just not sure what ...

This be-wigged siren is still trying to master the sexy face, but if you'll accept a sub-par pout, then this is the lady for you!

She's into wigs, big gold earrings, wigs, alpaca wigs, raccoon-hair wigs, straw wigs, cursed wigs made of the hair of dead witches, and wigs.

Favorite color: blonde.  Not brunette!  Natural blonde, damn it!

 Wheeeeeee!  My wig serves as a majestic wing!

She's a real swinger!  Oh I'm sorry I'm truly sorry I've done seven of these and I'm not feeling well, I've been dizzy and I'm not eating much and everything I touch feels sticky and I think I've lost vision in my left eye ... please forgive me oh I no longer know right from pun wrong.

 She's very enthusiastically happy.   Won't be when she sees the completed movie.

Look at that poise!  Look at that winning smile!  This is the look of someone that was told that this part would lead to fame and fortune and not being pawed by a shaven ape named Falbo.

I'm betting that smile faded pretty fast.

 I think I ruptured my spleen!

There's nothing this fit woman enjoys more than a healthy round of calisthenics, she's ... also ... a real ... swinger.  Look, I'm sorry again.  I've turned to drugs to deal with the pain of this movie, I've even started mainlining lighter fluid using a penis pump.  Everything has been getting dark and I don't think I'll ever see anything resembling the tiniest shred of hope ever again.

Too dark, right?  That's alright, I can jump from light to dark -- just like the lighting in this segment!  Hey, Lewis, how about you do something more than the minimal amount of work required to make a movie?

 Did they have Nair in 1961?

Here we have a lady who's not afraid to show her underarms, to you, to the world, to Lewis, to Falbo, and especially not Bumble who's pretty damn happy this is about over.

Also: This woman is an innovator.  She's already discovered and perfected the Facebook profile picture weight-reducing pose, in 1961.

 By the way, she's doing this in heels.  Not so high and mighty now, are you?

Think I'm going to make the same joke here, don't you?  You can't swing on monkey bars, why, swinging and monkeys, there's absolutely no connection.

That said, this hot chick can really bracheate.

Falbo looks dead, which makes this a happy ending!

And now we come to the end of our exhaustive review of the major themes, character arcs, wigs, and boobs of The Adventures of Lucky Pierre.

Somebody was lucky.  It wasn't us.

A Nice Pair: The Adventures of Lucky Pierre, Part 6

Start here if new to this series: Part 1

I've made it through 5 segments.  While most of you have probably bailed a long time ago, I will say that at least this movie -- which is full of painfully unfunny physical humor -- has not yet stooped to the level of puns.

Drive-In Me Crazy

Son of a bitch!

If you are going to create a movie whose single laser-like focus is on boobs and butts, it is well advised to start your titles with said boobs and butts.

Then, you can get straight onto the business of endless driving scenes.

Hopefully that arrow  points towards a bottomless cliff.

There's nothing in this world more simulating then a sign telling you just how much time we are going to waste before the ladies.  Oh, and try to chew up at least a minute or two on this amazingly riveting sign reading scene.

Lewis, just a note, something to consider in the future: we are here to see boobs, not a boob.

Mötely Crüe will play anywhere.

82 years later, in geological time, we finally arrive.  Again, another sign that seems to be telling us we've arrived at the aforementioned hot, naked ladies.

So, this would be a fine time to waste another minute panning around the markee.

Lewis, another note:  Framing.  Is it that hard?

It's not the markee he's looking at, it's the nuclear explosion to his right lighting the scene.

This part is followed by another long stretch of Falbo jumping around like he's eaten a case of mexican jumping beans and drank a six-pack of Jolt Cola.  Once more, Lewis manages to frame the scene in a strange way, with Falbo on the right and some old truck on the left.

Was this truck some type of narrative device?  Some element that will be used later to advance the plot?  Or did Lewis just hack this one out as quickly as possible to make a fast buck?  Your guess is hacked it out as quickly as possible to make a fast buck.

Yes, not a wig. And those earrings are pure gold, too.

We finally get our first chick who seems to have just barely survived a vicious forehead caterpillar attack.  She seems pretty perplexed by the whole endeavor of film making.  Brooke Shields in a bad wig is the ticket lady, gives Falbo the ticket, and then ...

Do I need to say it?

Literally another couple minutes of Falbo driving around the lot.  There's nobody else there (eventually other cars fill in around him and block his line of sight -- har-de-har.)

I think Lewis knew this was the last segment and if he was going to get this movie to just shy of 60 minutes he had to do some padding.  Sadly, this was made long before breasts were padded, so our padding is a lot less entertaining and a lot more Falbo.

If you looked at this and thought "that fence needs repairs", then join my sad, over-analytical club.

So our second hot chick -- or it might be the first, I'm really not going back to check -- delivers Falbo some popcorn, three boxes worth.  This scene offers a small window into the future, where Vegas Falbo sits alone in his suite, consuming whole turkeys.

Rumored to consume whole turkeys.

Just in case people actually visit this blog.

Is the camera man lying on the hood?  Club meetings at 3!

Our next hot chick delivers more popcorn.  Yes, that's the joke, Falbo gets too much popcorn.  That's it, ladies and gentleman.  All in the service of T&A.

This new 3D is great!

Finally, the fourth hot chick throws more popcorn at Falbo and it's gets all over him like those Vegas years where it's rumored he would fall asleep in a puddle of gravy with a turkey leg sticking out of his still chomping maw.

Rumored.

One more segment after this, and it's the short that Falbo is watching at the drive-in. It's a segment that full on hot chicks, playground equipment, and nary a Falbo in sight. It is glorious.

Next: Part 7

A Nice Pair: The Adventures of Lucky Pierre, Part 5

Start here if new to this series: Part 1

Baring absolutely no resemblance to any of the other segments, Billy Falbo is a shlub who runs into naked women.  The growth in story telling, in the character arcs, all reach a crescendo in this segment.

Then again, I was huffing industrial solvent while I watched it through a blue-ish haze.  So, the above paragraph might not be accurate.  It's potentially the same crap as before.

The Photographer's Apprentice

 The closest the word "Falbo" and "Glamour" will ever be.

In this segment, Falbo is a janitor in a glamour photo studio, and not, as I originally suspected, the notorious broom serial killer whose murderous rages were triggered by faux brick walls.

We get some close approximation of comedy where Falbo blows smoke into the camera and the camera blows it back.  He mugs.  The camera shows more emotion than Falbo, and then there's a knock at the door because Lewis' keen directorial skills tells him the audience would rather see chicks than Falbo.

Imagine that.

 Honestly, you're in The Adventures of Lucky Pierre.  Tone it down a bit!

The first model walks in as if she's too good for Falbo.  Since most types of tree bark, snail slime trails, and loose paperclips in the back of drawers are too good for Falbo, this is to be expected.

 This model is multi-dimensional, from frumpy shorts to frumpy leotard.

The second model walks in as if somebody just ran over her dog, tore off it's bloody head, placed it on a stake in her front yard, and demanded that by raising this bloody dog-head-flag, he has claimed this land for Spain.

Falbo stares on pretty creepily.  Maybe he hit the dog?

 The last person to give Falbo that look lost a kneecap.

The third model comes in wearing her admirals uniform that she soaked in chocolate.  She also ignores Falbo as if he was less than a cockroach.  True, but really, is that any excuse for bad behavior?

That is all suddenly forgotten -- by script fiat -- as they seem to mistake the janitor for the photographer.  Or maybe he is just doing double duty?  This is a plot element not fully explained by the script, and I would complain but then I might miss some boobs.

 We're getting paid extra for the pawing from the crew, right?

That's one sexy The Thinker cosplay!

I note here that the trick of this segment is everytime Falbo is about to take a picture, the women disappears.

It has finally happened, Falbo's mugging has torn a hole in space and time.

 By angle of the camera, this is a shoot for left-thigh fetish magazine.

Our first model gets into the "deciding if I want to change the light bulb or not, how steady is this chair?" pose.  Falbo gets into his annoying mouth breathing routine.

Sadly, the model disappears, and Falbo stays.

 What's with the prints in 1961?  Did that blanket come from a leperus leopard?

The second model tries way to damn hard.  That's what a smile looks like when it is forced at gunpoint!

 This is the early 60s, you should be that excited to see a nude woman!

The final model does her most famous, most sensual pose, the "getting down the flour from the top shell."  It wowed them in Vegas.

Falbo, your tears are like milk to me!

All the women disappear, and we are left, spent and alone (ugh, sorry) with Falbo, crying like a baby made completely out of soggy mashed potatoes.

It's a joy to behold, and be sure to hold on to that, because more segments are ahead.  I'm not sure if that's a warning or a threat.

Next: Part 6

A Nice Pair: The Adventures of Lucky Pierre, Part 4

Start here if new to this series: Part 1

This segment is especially jarring as the music sounds like somebody put Rick Wakeman and his Hammond Organ into a industrial car crusher, plus a complete and utter failure at being sexy by presenting the worlds most alarmingly frumpy pair of shorts -- though in a nice pastel blue.

Luckily, those shorts aren't on Billy Falbo.

For The Birds

For Lord's sake, smile, Falbo is near!  Don't let him catch you not smiling!

For the title, Lewis uses the cinematic trick of foreshadowing.  There will, in fact, be naked chicks, and very, very awful clothing choices; for instance, light purple matador pants seemingly filled with lumpy pudding.

He's acting so broadly he can see it from here.

And the moment we've all been waiting for: Falbo prances onto the scene like the tutu wearing elephants in the Dance of the Hours piece from Fantasia.

He's playing a giant chunk of ham bird watcher who is, of course, peeping on the women in the field who seem to be part of some cow-pasture-based stripping club.

What's that?  You are all screaming "I bet the ending will reveal that he's only 5 feet from them."

Give yourself a cookie, perferably made of caustic lye.

Another golden opportunity, missed.  Why not a Yellow Tit, Lewis?

The plastic bird ornament out-acts Falbo.  He shoots it in the knees.

Velma wandered into our nudie movie set.

Here's our first lovely lady, a dedicated, big-haired, Scooby-Doo cosplayer.  She enjoys long walks in the field and spontaneous stripping.  She's turned down many dates from guys dressed up as a great dane and hates those skanky bitches that always dress up as Daphne.

How many hams can you put in stretch pants?

Our next model thunders unto the stage -- and I'm not kidding -- there are cartoon thundering footsteps in this part.  Not nice, Lewis!

Lewis: "Thanks for stripping cheaply for our cheap nude film.  By the way, you're part is Floppy Butt Fat Girl #1."

Model: "Well, I don't know, you'll do this respectfully, right?"

Lewis: "Of course!   We promise not to put in comedic fat noises when you walk.  Trust us!"

Model: "That seemed oddly specific!"

When the early universe expanded into existence, sexy and anti-sexy collided,

eliminating most anti-sexy particles.  Still, large clumps of anti-sexy particles

still remain, usually concentrated in unfortunate shorts.

Granny Shorts Ahoy!

I can't even begin to imagine why this was put on film or how the image even stuck on said film without causing the reel to burst into flames to the cackle of demons.

If this was a style in the 60s, how did society keep going?  How were any babies born?  It just doesn't seem possible, so I'm going to assume this is some one time trick of the light, or just where Friedman and Lewis suddenly had their ideal for Blood Feast.

Didn't Regan have this same pose in the Exorcist?

The running gag is this woman always starts to take off her shirt, and then decides not to (while her friend rolls around in the nude attracting all sorts of chiggers and ticks), while Falbo, watching through his binoculars, mugs and mouths "take it off."

None of that is even remotely creepy.

Nothing says "stroll in a field" like high heels!

Falbo storms off, and we finally get to see the goods.  Lewis forgets to insert some other insulting sound effect, like the squishing of jello in a bowl or maybe the sound of meatloaf falling off a five story building.

Uh oh, I might have just given them an idea for The Return of Lucky Pierre!

Next: Part 5

A Nice Pair: The Adventures of Lucky Pierre, Part 3

Start here if new to this series: Part 1

You know how I go on and on about the kneecap incidents?  Well, (1) I learned it on wikipedia, which is never, ever, never wrong, and (2) I don't have much else to go on other than Falbo's rubber faced spaz routine.  So kneecap violence it is!

The Plumber's Friend

So they wallpapered the curtains?

Billy Falbo plays a wacky plumber, which is not at all similar to his wacky artist, or the wacky bird watcher in the next segments.  It is slightly different from his award winning portrayal of McMurphy in the London stage production of One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest.

Just kidding, just making sure you are paying attention instead of flipping ahead to see the naked lady.  It was, in fact, the stage production of Pratfalls and Seltzer, My Life as a Doofus, in East Peoria.

Audiences were pleasantly surprised by a nude Ward Cleaver.

This one spends some extra time developing characters.  There's slumming Hugh Beaumont, fumbling plumber, and the hot chick.

Rounding out the cast is a late 50s wallpaper style called "off-green barf flowers."  Falbo barely manages to out-act it.

I count nine towels.  Note: The actual towel she will use is not among them.

The general joke is that Falbo's plumber goes about his work without noticing that there's a nude woman, and even has her hand him tools at one point.

She goes about her business pretending to wash herself, and Falbo goes about his business being a hammy jack-ass.

They all manage to ignore the wallpaper and hand towel drapes, which I understand was either quite the rage in the 60s or the home owner didn't want his good curtains to get Falbo flop sweat on them.  Probably a wise choice.

I bet this pipe could break a whole lot of knee caps!

This is the major problem with this segment.  Who do we look at?  The woman or Falbo, or as I like to say, the chick or the plucked chicken?

I'm actually impressed you can't see the crew in the mirror.

Even multi-million dollar pictures screw that up.

Right here we see the genesis of every letter ever written into Penthouse.

By the way, Lewis, where did that towel come from?  Is it too much to ask for some continuity in my nude woman flick?  You matched the drapes to the wallpaper, it seems like this isn't something you'd overlook!

A faithful recreation of the drinking that proceeded the shooting off of his own kneecap.

Falbo, still oblivious to the woman, puts some of the perfume he finds under his arms (which happens to a so-bizarre-it's-amusing wood block sound), and then drinks directly from the bottle.

This level of comedy stage craft can only mean the big reveal is coming ...

Aiiiieeee!  Crappy vaudeville comedian!

I want to point out Falbo's stomach in this.  There, can't un-see it, can you?  Go away from the computer, visit another site, research the life of Falbo, then come back.  It's still there.

It is now that I choose to point out the very prominent outline in the middle of his pants.

You're welcome.

Again: Wah-predictable-wah

It ends with Falbo getting a cold shower and everybody else feeling damp and depressed.  The only winner in this segment was the ghastly wallpaper, who's unholy puke flowers will never die.

Next: Part 4

A Nice Pair: The Adventures of Lucky Pierre, Part 2

Start here if new to this series: Part 1

Remember what I said about Billy Falbo mugging?  There's more mugging in this 5 minute segment then there was in the 80s in Times Square.  And that mugging probably left you feeling slightly less icky than watching this will.

Pardon My Pigments

Bumble's going to have a long December

You've given your money, and now you want to see naked women.  You've heard this picture, the first in color, is a revolution in the delivery of naked women.  Your anticipation is sky high!  The very last thing you want to see is some D-level comedian prance around like a poodle that got into a big box of pixie sticks.  But they wouldn't do that, right?  They'd certainly deliver the naked chicks up front, right?

Right?

The hills are alive with the sound of mugging!

Damn!  Well, how long can this mugging go on?

Somebody's paying me for this!  Wha-hoo!

Quite a while, it seems, and it's quite whimsical if by whimsical you mean induces seizures.

I opened for Sinatra!  He loved my hopping!

Finally!  Hot naked mamas!  All is forgiven, Friedman and Lewis!

No wonder people got stuck in the Forest of Illusion.  A Super Mario World joke.

Nerd Power +20!

Well, aside from blocking problems -- they never got all three women in the frame at the same time -- I finally see the benefit of this great, great work of cinematic art.  From here on out, Friedman and Lewis are national heroes, and ...

Please jam that in either your eye or mine.

 Damn it, right back to the crap!

 Did you ever wonder what the look of regret was on a nude model?  Not for being nude, but for getting within the range of a guy that has a habit of shooting off kneecaps?  Well, then, wonder no longer:

I hope he is happy to see me and that's not a gun!

Hey, I said smile!  We're taking away your wig privileges if you keep this up!

Of course, what could possibly be the ending?  Could it be that he painting is an abstract?  Of course the hell it is.

Wah-predictable-wah

This segment was 80% mugging, 20% chicks.  I'm getting a very, very bad feeling that December might just not be that merry of a month for me!

Next: Part 3