by Jerry Roberts

May 26, 2002

Nothing is more heavenly to witless distributors and no-talent hacks then the direct-to-video market. In this medium, anyone with a handful a cash can get just about any kind film made quickly and with as little fuss as possible (it doesn’t even have to be any good). Direct-to-video has become the home of mindless sequels, cheapo horror films and soft-core quickie skin-flicks.

Which brings me to Anna Nicole Smith . . .

Yes, Anna Nicole Smith, former Playboy Playmate who, in 1995, used said medium twice in the same year to parlay her public image into a career that didn’t have staples in it. Her offerings: To the Limit and Skyscraper. These endeavors weren't so much an attempt to rebuild her image as a leading lady as they were a framework to get her out of her costume as many times in 90 minutes as was possible. Can she act? Why not, it’s a free country.

Deciding which film is worse would be a chore because both films serve, more or less, the same function (If you have to ask then you need to have a long talk with your daddy). I begin with To the Limit, a drippy actioner directed by DTV regular Ray Martino that finds Anna playing a CIA agent (which would explain a lot about the CIA). Her husband is killed by the mob and she attempts to safeguard a CD that will incriminate those responsible. Her husband, by the way, is played by Joey Travolta (which is pretty hard to believe since, given Anna's infamous matrimonial pedigree, Travolta isn’t even retirement age).

There is some other stuff that happens but it's all really beside the point. The point of the movie is to figure out some way for this paper-thin plot to separate Anna from her clothing. It does that, rather clumsily in an opening scene in which she spends time with her husband before he ambles from sex bomb to car bomb. The sex scene is one of those awkward, slow motion affairs with lots of “passionate” music and facial contortions that remind you, not of sex, but of severe intestinal discomfort.

To the Limit is a clutzy action film designed around selling Anna as a product. In the lead, judging by her acting, the movie’s profit, which is to be made by what she exposes from the neck down, is all anyone could ask for. On the heels of that, the movie is more or less just a clumsy direct-to-video product in spite of it’s leading lady. But as much as you can laugh at how cheap the whole thing seems, you can laugh just as hard at the video box cover in which Anna looks about to shoot her own doppleganger in the eye.

I know that comparing these two celluloid dirt-clods would be like ointments to suppositories but To the Limit is a modern-day classic compared with Skyscraper, Anna’s follow-up feature also directed by Martino. Where the previous film was a rip-off of most every action movie that you can name, this one has it’s sights set on one film in particular. The movie is Die Hard With a Boob Job starring Anna as Carrie Wisk, a chopper pilot *snort, chuckle* who finds herself in a world of trouble when the building that she lands on is taken over by terrorists.

These aren’t just any terrorists. These guys have studied the acting chops of Fabio in such finite detail that they know how to stand around looking studly with guns while completely lacking the decency to look humiliated. They haven’t quite mastered the accent though because their accents change from scene to scene so their country of origin remains a little fuzzy – what tacticians they are!! They aren’t characters so much as they are villains pulled out of a bad 70s cartoon show. They aren’t just bad, they ooze their villainy from every pore (to borrow a phrase).

But I’m getting off track. The point of interest here is how to fit Miss Smith into as many nude scenes as possible in a short period of time. For that, we get some of the most laughable "eroticism" in many a moon. Especially a disengaging attempted sexual assault on Anna by one of the terrorists. Of course, the moment he lays his meathooks on her (rather, her stunt woman) she has only to kick him in the head and render him unconscious. But my personal favorite is a flashback scene, during a lull in the action, in which Anna remembers an afternoon of outdoor sex, again with painful feux-orgasmic facial contortions that make you want to give her some 7Up and crackers.

If I thought that Anna couldn’t act before, I’m sure that she would have headed for the dictionary to look that word up. She doesn’t so much speak as she reads her cue cards and gets lost when the guy holding them is too slow turning them over. But no scene can match the witless exchange in which Anna recognizes a quote from Henry IV. Judging by every other move that she makes in this movie I’d be willing to bet that she thought it was a sequel.

Again, a cluzty action film designed around selling Anna as a product. No real writing, no real production value because the whole things looks as if it were shot with a home video camera. But as much as you can laugh at how cheap the whole thing seems, you can laugh just as hard at the video box cover in which a Godzilla-sized Anna looks about to shoot down her own helicopter. Maybe someone should take that thing away from her.