The Secret Agents Club

What makes a good movie?

The only reason I bought this movie; the misleading cover
tricking me into thinking that Hulk Hogan played two roles.
Like Double Impact, but shittier.

Is it a compelling story or driving narrative? Is it the well rounded and identifiable characters? Is it Bruce Campbell’s intimidating jaw line? Well, everybody would have their own opinion on the matter, and they’d be wrong, because they’re stupid.

And, in all probability, cheap too.

No, what makes a good movie is a bit more complex than that. It is the sum of its parts, the gelling of the plot and characters, suspense, action, thrills and chills and big tits that jiggle about unnecessarily. It’s like a puzzle, just a disorienting jumble of sequential shots unless they are all put together to build the whole picture or a litter of ginger kittens climbing over a basket of yarn which reminds you that you should probably call your grandma for her birthday last month because, let’s face it, she isn’t getting any younger, and you’ll want to be in the good books when the reading of the will comes about.

If a good movie is a completed jigsaw, then this movie is a bunch of Polaroids of fat women that someone has attacked with a pair of scissors and left strewn on your carpet as some sort of weird fetish.

There isn’t one cohesive idea within the confines of this movie. Even the DVD case smells alarmingly of burnt plastic and sadness. I found it in a bargain bin at a convenience store for $2 and I feel I got the bum end of that deal. The tag line lies to us with its promises of action-packed adventure; the only thing this movie is packed with is cheese and gayness. And not even that fabulous gayness that lets you dress well and be charming enough that my mum likes you either.

The story revolves around Hulk Hogan, a ‘dad by day/spy by night’ secret agent who is part of the Secret Agent Club, which consists entirely of him, a fake moustache and some old Chinese guy who runs a toy store – which sounds like the shittiest club imaginable, right after the Twilight Fan Club.

Hulk is sent on a mission to steal a top secret laser gun from a black market auction but his disguise as a 6’7” blonde, mustachioed Russian general with an amazingly good American accent is blown by his inability to not make puns and punch henchmen. While he does manage to escape, he must now hide the laser gun, himself and his son from the people who want it back. Hilarity is meant to ensue, but fails to make an appearance due to a conflicting dentist appointment. It even had a note from its mum.

There are so many things wrong with this movie it’s hard to know where to start. The special effects are quite literally a few stop motion disappearing gags and a kid with half a pack of sparklers. The evil henchman had a leg made of heavy metal that squeaks when he walks but is quite obviously a giant sock spray painted silver. Hulk Hogan wears a wig and a fake moustache while he is being a secret agent, but is bald with a skullet and a clean shaved lip the rest of the time, which does nothing to hide the fact that he is Hulk Hogan, and only highlights the fact that the 90’s was a horrible thing to behold.

It’s as if some sped kid with cancer asked to make a movie and the Make a Wish Foundation reluctantly agreed, so the kid wrote the script and suggested the cast, and then Make a Wish Foundation said nothing, but stood idly back with a heart full of pity knowing that, while that kid won’t live to see the final product, millions of healthy children would be, and that in his jealousy of non-terminal children, what this boy wished for was actually a curse to be upon us, and our children yet to come.

Thankfully, though, much like the present I got from that old man down the street who used to give me fresh plums, this film was actually a snuff film, but the only thing being killed was Hulk Hogan’s career.

Evaluation: About as enjoyable as passing half a bag of bladder stones.