Ultra-cheap even by New World Pictures standards, naive go-getter with stars in her eyes Candice Rialson ("my friends call me Candy") finds herself the reluctant débutante in a z-grade Phillipino actioner when her shonky agent (Miller) signs her up for stunt work in the latest film of the "Miracle Pictures" assembly line. The last stunt girl died as a result of the paltry set conditions but Candy is willing to give almost anything a go if it means an opportunity to make it big. Initially duped into robbing a bank that she thinks is a hidden camera role, "Hollywood Boulevard" chronicles Candy's coming of age as she matures in the sordid, tempestuous industry of exploitation film.
Really just a self parody, directors Dante and Arkush have spared much expense cobbling together this endless parade of in-jokes and raunch, with dialogue to die for ("now get it up, or I'll cut if off") and enough skin to make a porn star blush. Bartel is amusing as the ultra efficient director, desperate to placate his high maintenance leading lady (Woronov) and come in under budget, while Jeffrey Kramer (fresh from "Jaws") trundles out the banal scripts like confetti at a wedding, while wooing Candy on the side.
Lots of bare flesh, flying limbs, simulated sex and corny double entendres to offend almost everybody, and, a bizarre blue grass musical number of zero relevance thrown in for good measure. If you're not a devotee of the New World Pictures experience, then doubtful "Hollywood Boulevard" will be your cup of tea; for everyone else, it's a trademark romp down to the usual standards.
Really just a self parody, directors Dante and Arkush have spared much expense cobbling together this endless parade of in-jokes and raunch, with dialogue to die for ("now get it up, or I'll cut if off") and enough skin to make a porn star blush. Bartel is amusing as the ultra efficient director, desperate to placate his high maintenance leading lady (Woronov) and come in under budget, while Jeffrey Kramer (fresh from "Jaws") trundles out the banal scripts like confetti at a wedding, while wooing Candy on the side.
Lots of bare flesh, flying limbs, simulated sex and corny double entendres to offend almost everybody, and, a bizarre blue grass musical number of zero relevance thrown in for good measure. If you're not a devotee of the New World Pictures experience, then doubtful "Hollywood Boulevard" will be your cup of tea; for everyone else, it's a trademark romp down to the usual standards.