You know the moment in "The Producers" when the Broadway theatre audience sits stupefied by the unbelievable awfulness of what they're seeing? I watched most of "The Girl Hunters" with a similar slack-jawed, eye-popping expression.
The ultimate vanity project, in which Mickey Spillane stars as his own ultra-macho detective, Mike Hammer. And, he's miscast! He can't act, can barely deliver his own awful dialogue, and is laughably terrible throughout the movie.
Even better, Mickey cast his also-can't-act pals in supporting roles. The tabloid columnist Hy Gardner never met a line of dialogue he couldn't butcher. Lloyd Nolan phones it in, looking like he's ready for the laxative commercials he would soon be doing. And then there are the assorted slabs of beef who pound Hammer and get pounded by him, in the trademark sadomasochistic Spillane style.
Of course he gets the girl (Shirley Eaton!!!). In fact, the most unwatchable shot in the whole movie is the slow track to a closeup of their mouths as they make out for the first time. I dare you not to blink.
And then there's the music! Laid on with a trowel, it's the same over-orchestrated catchy trumpet blues riff repeated a hundred times, usually crescendoing over a meaningless shot of Hammer walking down a hall, or driving up a road, punctuating exactly the wrong moments in a film that's just chock full of 'em.
Only 103 minutes, but I would have guessed two hours. Grill a steak, pour a scotch, fire up a cancer stick, and don't miss it!!
The ultimate vanity project, in which Mickey Spillane stars as his own ultra-macho detective, Mike Hammer. And, he's miscast! He can't act, can barely deliver his own awful dialogue, and is laughably terrible throughout the movie.
Even better, Mickey cast his also-can't-act pals in supporting roles. The tabloid columnist Hy Gardner never met a line of dialogue he couldn't butcher. Lloyd Nolan phones it in, looking like he's ready for the laxative commercials he would soon be doing. And then there are the assorted slabs of beef who pound Hammer and get pounded by him, in the trademark sadomasochistic Spillane style.
Of course he gets the girl (Shirley Eaton!!!). In fact, the most unwatchable shot in the whole movie is the slow track to a closeup of their mouths as they make out for the first time. I dare you not to blink.
And then there's the music! Laid on with a trowel, it's the same over-orchestrated catchy trumpet blues riff repeated a hundred times, usually crescendoing over a meaningless shot of Hammer walking down a hall, or driving up a road, punctuating exactly the wrong moments in a film that's just chock full of 'em.
Only 103 minutes, but I would have guessed two hours. Grill a steak, pour a scotch, fire up a cancer stick, and don't miss it!!