They would do anything to become famous…
I know what you're going to say: "You're scoring this disc a zero? Is that even possible?" Yes, folks, I'm afraid it is.
For the record: Miami Models sucks.
"A film by Paul Madden" (you've got to give him props for 'fessing up, anyway), Miami Models follows the hijinks (this is the sort of movie whose plot can't be described without using the word hijinks) of a swarthy, spectacularly unfunny father and son team who, dissatisfied with their respective jobs as a chauffer and modeling agency lackey, decide to open their own modeling agency in South Beach. And why not? Beautiful women can't resist the allure of physically unattractive, over-sexed father-and-son stalker-types who offer them lucrative modeling careers even though the creeps have no experience or connections in the fashion industry, right? Hammy poolside drooling, awkward and degrading attempts to score, and a cornucopia of corny double-entendres follow. A plethora of micro bikinis are on display, as well as the occasional free and unfettered breast and tokus. The plot goes all Shakespearean when son turns against father as the old jackass tries to sell the models—yeah, the actual women, folks—as playthings for rich dudes in order to prevent the agency from going under financially. See what I'm talkin' about: hijinks!
Have I mentioned that Miami Models sucks? If not, consider the previous sentence a mention.
The flick has nothing to recommend it. Nothing. It's not funny…not even in a campy, unintentionally hilarious, this-will-be-fun-to-mock sort of way. Its humor is the kind of cloying, badly-acted shtick that just pisses you off. On top of that, it's as not-sexy as it is not-funny. Please don't allow the pretty blonde on the cover to deceive you into thinking this turd will titillate. If you wanna see chicks in bikinis, go to the beach. Miami Models does manage a surprising level of misogyny, though, considering the absence of explicit material. I don't want to go off on a PC rant, but the raison d'etre of the bodacious bubbleheads who populate this film is to be objects of the leers and schoolboy antics of the doltish, hormonal men in the cast and, I'm guessing, the audience. Which leads me to an important point that is best made as bluntly as possible: only a complete moron would like this flick. Yep, I said it and I won't take it back. Frankly, I'm not all that worried about offending any readers because the level of stupidity required to enjoy Miami Models negates the possibility of basic literacy. Which begs the question: assuming there's an ignoramus out there who'd actually enjoy this movie, what are the chances he's got even the low-level cognitive acumen required to operate a DVD player? I'll tell you what they are: nil. So, who's the target demographic for this feces in a keep case? I'm stumped.
I told you Miami Models sucks, right? I just want to make sure because I don't want you to walk away with the misconception I enjoyed even the tiniest smidgen of it. I'd feel guilty if you accidentally rented it or something.
It's abundantly clear from the DVD presentation that Artisan knew damned well how putrid is the product they've foisted on us. The transfer is full screen and sports heavy grain, loads of compression artifacts, and uneven color. It looks like it was ported from a crappy old video master. The stereo audio is characterized by weak midrange, which is passable during moments of dialogue but leaves music sounding flat and muffled. Basically, the video and audio quality sucks as much as the film itself. There are no subtitles. There are no extras. There are no menus: pop in the disc and the movie starts right up; after the end credits, it starts again at the beginning—if that's not a little slice of Hell right here on earth, I'm not sure what is.
Let me conclude with this thought: Miami Models sucks. I watched it so you don't have to. Consider yourself warned.
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