Death to the Supermodels (2005) from Johnny Web (Uncle Scoopy; Greg Wroblewski)

Death to the Supermodels is worse.

(Although Supermodels is actually a worse movie than Dirty Love, I had to score this one higher because the photography is technically competent and the DVD is a good transfer. Dirty Love matched its poor script with harsh lighting and grainy film production.)

What are the chances of watching two such awful comedies back-to-back without intending to set some kind of record? The odds against it must be greater than the odds against OJ's innocence. It was, as I'm sure you can imagine, a traumatic experience from which I may never recover. It was 12 of the longest hours of my life. Why 12? No, they are not six-hour movies, but do you think you could watch these straight through without pausing to do other things? If you could, you are more of a man than I am. I must be a total pussy, because if I had any crimes to confess, I'd probably do so immediately under the threat of repeating this experience in three hours. To avoid such torture, I would even consider committing some crimes, and then confessing to them!

The basic premise is uncomplicated. Jamie Pressly plays the co-ordinator of a "swimsuit edition" shoot. She gathers five of the world's hottest supermodels on a deserted island with two gay photographers and a dwarf. One by one, the models start getting even thinner than usual, thanks to death. The tag line? "They're drop dead gorgeous."

And the movie is every bit as good as it sounds.

DVD Verdict wrote:

The acting sucks. The writing sucks. The directing sucks. The music sucks. That spider monkey whose howls are used to drive home punchlines sucks (the less said about that the better). The fact that the only nudity in the movie comes five minutes in sucks. The fact that I requested to review this DVD sucks.

It is filled with lame schtick. Only one of the gay photographers talks (the other is mute), and he basically does all the 1960s Catskill gay humor and gestures. You know the routine. He goes "tsk!" a lot, shrieks, and poses akimbo.

Cry a sad tear for Taylor Negron, once a pretty funny comic actor on the B-list, who plays the mute gay photographer. He sports bleach-blond hair, and spends the entire film in a speedo! That's right, a man who is quite funny and not that attractive plays an aging pretty boy with no dialogue. Do you think this is what he was expecting to do at age 47?

Given the premise, this film might have been structured as a watchable exploitation film, but neither Jaime Pressly nor any of the gorgeous supermodels show any skin! The only nudity is provided by Eva Derrek as a sixth model, in a totally gratuitous scene which introduces the two photographers back on the mainland, and shows that they are oh-so-very gay. Eva is stark naked, but camera angles and a strategically placed hand prevent lower frontal exposure. Why was this scene in the film? I don't know. The same point could have been made on the island with any of the supermodels. Perhaps everyone else had a "no nudity" clause.