Buxom, leggy, shapely, irresistibly trashy platinum blonde 70's schlock action movie bombshell Cheri Caffaro, who rather uncomfortably resembles a cheap dime-store Dolly Parton clone, struts her electrifying el skanko woman hot stuff to the sizzling low-rent max as cagey, sexy and very deadly international hit babe Samantha Fox (who shouldn't be confused with either the New York porn star or the vacuous British pop singer), who's armed with an assortment of lethal weapons and clever disguises, plus sports the world's ugliest dark blue eye shadow and an extremely deep all body tan. Fox gleefully kills an eminently hateful bunch of wealthy slimebags (my personal favorite is the sadomasochistic B&D leather freak Cheri smothers by putting a plastic bag over his head after she ties the sicko up) who all live in the Phillipines. She's been hired to rub out these evil rich scum by some mystery person. In between offing people Cheri finds time to strike up a steamy romance with hunky police chief Aharon Ipale (one particularly hot date involves attending a cockfight; the killer roosters' wild brawl is tastefully inter-cut with scorchingly hot shots of a naked Caffaro excitedly writhing on a bed!).
Cheri's perpetually all-thumbs director husband Don Schain, who also helmed all three sensationally scuzzy "Ginger" pictures and the tawdry "A Place Called Today" for his darling celluloid sleaze goddess wife, fumbles the ball here with truly inept, but still oddly engrossing and often painfully sidesplitting results: some priceless dialogue (aphorism to live by: "I never bet on anything but a sure thing"), copious gratuitous Caffaro nudity, hilariously ham-fisted action scenes (don't miss the gut-busting karate fight between Cheri and a would-be kung-fu assassin on Cheri's yacht), Hugo Montenegro's funky, pulsating pseudo-John Barry score, choppy editing, quite primitive cinematography by Fredy Conde (the strenuous slow motion and eyeball-straining four way split screen are both endearingly clumsy), gorgeous scenic Manila locations, an almost excruciatingly funny surprise ending, Julie McFadden's haunting rendition of the unforgettably atrocious theme song "Lady Samantha" ("Lady Samantha/He fell in love with you"), and the incomparable Vic Diaz's marvelous portrayal of a sweet, tubby, gluttonous blundering oaf of a detective all jostle for the viewer's attention in this tacky, degenerate and resolutely crummy ersatz James Bond-style action/adventure dreckfest released by New World Pictures that's absolutely essential viewing for any self-respecting Cheri Caffaro fan worth his weight in crushed beer cans, which hopefully doesn't exclude too many folks.
Cheri's perpetually all-thumbs director husband Don Schain, who also helmed all three sensationally scuzzy "Ginger" pictures and the tawdry "A Place Called Today" for his darling celluloid sleaze goddess wife, fumbles the ball here with truly inept, but still oddly engrossing and often painfully sidesplitting results: some priceless dialogue (aphorism to live by: "I never bet on anything but a sure thing"), copious gratuitous Caffaro nudity, hilariously ham-fisted action scenes (don't miss the gut-busting karate fight between Cheri and a would-be kung-fu assassin on Cheri's yacht), Hugo Montenegro's funky, pulsating pseudo-John Barry score, choppy editing, quite primitive cinematography by Fredy Conde (the strenuous slow motion and eyeball-straining four way split screen are both endearingly clumsy), gorgeous scenic Manila locations, an almost excruciatingly funny surprise ending, Julie McFadden's haunting rendition of the unforgettably atrocious theme song "Lady Samantha" ("Lady Samantha/He fell in love with you"), and the incomparable Vic Diaz's marvelous portrayal of a sweet, tubby, gluttonous blundering oaf of a detective all jostle for the viewer's attention in this tacky, degenerate and resolutely crummy ersatz James Bond-style action/adventure dreckfest released by New World Pictures that's absolutely essential viewing for any self-respecting Cheri Caffaro fan worth his weight in crushed beer cans, which hopefully doesn't exclude too many folks.