The New Wave in the title refers to New Wave music. For those of you too young to remember the 80s, New Wave is kind of a post-punk synthesiser and haircut driven music (New Wave bands earned themselves the title of “haircut bands” due to their weird hair-dos. If you can't remember them, just look up “Flock Of Seagulls” on youtube and you'll see what I mean.).
I have to confess that this was our second go at watching this one. On our first attempt, Mrs Dave fell asleep after the first 10 minutes, so we didn't have high hopes. Our expectations were low and this movie certainly lived up (or down) to them.
The plot (although to actually call it such really stretches the definition to its breaking point) is simple. Two guys, an unattractive black guy (Jack Baker) and a hideously ugly white guy (Jamie Gillis) are watching porn and discussing their dream job – running an escort service where the girls are turned on by New Wave music. Their porn comes to an end, then we see their TV showing static and accompanied by loud snores. No, not Mrs Dave this time, it was a plot device instead. The two guys fall asleep and dream their dream job.
Jack and Jamie (who inexplicably speaks with a ridiculous Chinese accent for the rest of the film), along with their "dog" - a mullet-headed white guy who is an absolute dead ringer for Bon Scott from AC/DC (In fact, if dear old Bon hadn't drowned in his own vomit 5 years earlier, you would have thought he was doing a cameo.) – are in charge of New Wave Hookers. Actually, Jack and Jamie are in charge, the dog's only purpose seems to be to shout “ring ring” to indicate that the phone is ringing. If you think that is weird, the rest of the film goes on to make absolutely no sense at all.
Essentially, the rest of the film consists of a bunch of girls, either coming into the office to deliver something (whereupon they get plugged into the “programming machine” which plays them New Wave music until they are horny, and consists of a set of headphones with either plastic boobs or dicks sticking out of the sides of them), or being unplugged from the machine to go out on calls. Either way they get fucked. The sex is... the sex is pretty crap. It's rough, poorly done, poorly shot and poorly acted. I have no idea who any of them are (except for a very young Steven St Croix being a very unconvincing Arab businessman) and frankly I don't much care.
It's films like this that make me remember just why the 80s was the decade that style forgot. The 80s fashions are laughable (fortunately I was too young to actually wear any of that stuff myself, but I can remember people doing it, and MrsDave has admitted to some fashion faux-pas at that time). The 80's was the decade of big. The clothes were big, the hair was big, the make-up was big, and the bushes were big (oh boy, were they big!). The only thing that wasn't big in this film were the boobs. Being the era before augmentation, they were all natural, which was a nice change. Seriously, girls, if you are considering augmentation – don't. I have never seen an enhanced boob, not even the smallest pimple-on-a-pumpkin A-cup, that looked better enhanced than it did before. Fake boobs are hideous. Stop getting them. I don't like them. So there.
A forgettable film starring forgettable people with forgettable sex. Forget it.
