I'll admit that Bo Derek pressed between the pages of a nudie magazine is a many splendored thing. To most sensible people that would be enough seeing as how there isn't much more of Mrs. John Derek that is of interest once she crawls out from under the staples. MISTER John Derek, however, had the vision to wrap several film projects around his wife's heaven-sent form without further taking into account that a still photo would probably achieve the same effect and save us about two hours. Alas, his consistant lapse in judgment thrust upon the world the most unnecessary waste of multi-million dollar contract since SDI: Her movie career.

Bo first found success in the wonderful 10 which wasn't hard. All she had to do was bound around on the beach, take a couple of tumbles in the sack with Dudley Moore and the rest was easy so long as she kept her neckline low, her mouth shut and left the comedy to Dudley. Unfortunately none of her other movies contained such talent and her subsequent movies have the air of a long, boring Bataan death-march occasionally interrupted by brief sessons of what is commonly known as Bo-Peeping.

Two of those moving centerfolds have found infamy not for their taboo-busting sexual misadventures but because they are infamously terrible. The "creative team" behind these debacles (headed by her aforementioned husband John) knew that their selling point had nothing to do with a story but was centered around Bo's multi-million dollar skin-tastics. Now, that wouldn't seem to be much of a problem on the surface but if you think about it, sustaining an entire film based soley on Bo's goodies leaves the project a little thin.

Did I mention thin? Well, in the case of Tarzan the Ape Man I probably should say "transparent". I can certainly see how a soft-core version of the Tarzan and Jane legend would be tempting but GOOD GOD if you're going to have the couple roll in the hay at least stay in the moment. The last thing I want to see in a soft-core sex scene with Bo Derek are cut-away scenes with RICHARD HARRIS!

Understanding the motivation behind this bit of jungle flotsom I noticed a depressing fact: This motivation has given Tarzan fourth billing, down there between John Phillip Law and someone billed as The Ivory King. Sure Tarzan shows up halfway through the movie and says nary a word but I wouldn't want to have been the poor sap who had to explain to Edgar Rice Burroughs why his legendary vine-swinger has been given a demotion.

The rather ersatz story is hammered together with all the subtley of Woodstock '99. It finds Jane's father passionate about plundering the jungle to uncover it's secrets. But it doesn't take much for us to figure out that the real motivation is to bring back Tarzan stuffed and mounted and tucked in the corner between the Polar Bear and the revolving bookcase.

They aren't in the jungle five minutes before Tarzan takes Jane prisoner and the dillying and dallying begins. The horny teens in the audience rub their hands together as the two look deeply into each others eyes and they begin to explore more than just the landscape. This is the stuff avoided by every other Tarzan movie so understandably we're a little curious. Surely Tarzan and Jane did something up there in the trees besides talk to the animals and run from the natives. The scenes are, admittedly, quite steamy. I was intrigued but I shook my head as the movie tried to convince me that Miles O'Keefe and Bo Derek were suppose to virgins! Yeah! Okay! Uh-Huh! Sure! You bet!

The games begin, the clothes come off, everything is set and THEN the movie cuts to Richard Harris! We came for Bo and we got Dumbledore!

Now this shouldn't be such a problem because we are aware that Harris was a brilliant actor. The problem is that we have to listen to him slog through lines like this: "I wallow in me. I enjoy every syllable I say and every gesture I make. I indulge myself a full 100 percent... Turn yourself into a god, and you then will not have to look for another."

With that, it's a virtual contest of bad dialogue begins as Bo, after being captured and force-bathed by the natives observes: "Damn, they're washing me, just like a horse!". If you rent this movie and the sound is broken, don't worry it's an improvement.

In the case of Bolero, however, I can't imagine that lack of soundtrack would help. At least Tarzan was open about it's intentions. Bolero is a shameless attempt by Derek to make a soft core porn film and label it as "art". Apparently, to him, it's art. To us Bolero is an exercise in instant replay. This is one of those movie that is rented for the sole purpose of fast forwarding to the "good parts" and then rewinding and fast forwarding accordingly. What goes on in between is just an effort to bridge the good stuff so the movie won't be 11 minutes long.

Between the stuff we really came to see is a lot of stuff we didn't want to see: The director's insistance on - ug! - a story. Bo, you see, has just graduated from a boarding school where she got into trouble for mooning her professor. Then she runs away with a sheik who is jonesin' on the hooka. He's more interested in fumes than in Bo - Dude, you REALLY got it bad!

So she runs away to Spain and to one of those perfectly chisled guys you find in books with Fabio on the cover. Now get this - he's a Spaniard who herds sheep, runs a winery and in his professional life, he's a bullfighter. Something about that pedgree made me suspicious that he has spent some time with Manuel the gardner - NOT that there's anything WRONG with that!

Anyway, after having found the perfect guy Bo realizes that she's quite content. Problem! He gets gored by the bull in that magical portion of his anatomy that Bo found . . . well, magical.

Now get this - She determines that the best way to combat his "very personal injury" is get him back on his feet and get him fighting bulls again. And so she determines to become a bullfighter herself. Uh, Bo. That ain't gonna do it sweetie!

In the midst of this the sheik kidnaps her and ties her up and puts her in his biplane to take her back to the desert. Undaunted, she breaks free and jumps over the side of the plane and eventually ends up back in her lover's arms.

How, may you ask, did she survive jumping out of an open bi-plane? Well, I have the theory that the writer was hoping that this would be the part you would be fast-fowarding through and wouldn't ask that question.

Now all of this sounds better than it actually plays out. The movie seems to be running in slow motion for nearly all of it's running time. This is one of those movies where eroticism is characterized soft focus and the kind of music that you hear in a museum. It's boring, BAD boring, AGONIZINGLY boring, COLOSSALLY boring. The fact that Bo produced the film only helps me understand why. Her skills as a producer are as listless as her skills as an actor. And how is her acting, well just look at the deer-in-the-headlights stare in that poster up there and you'll understand.