Malibu Beach (1978)

One doesn’t expect much from a drive-in comedy that caters to hormone-crazed teenagers by presenting a fantasy-land vision of Southern California in which attractive young people do nothing except drive cars, eat fast food, hang out at the beach, and screw. Still, it’s difficult to cut much slack for Malibu Beach, even though the picture delivers the requisite amount of raunchy scenarios and topless scenes. The problem, aside from the basic sleaziness of the endeavor, is the mind-melting level of stupidity that pervades the movie’s storyline. For instance, one of the running “jokes” involves a mischievous dog that keeps stealing the bikini tops of sunbathing women, which causes the women to leap up from the sand and chase after the dog, their breasts flailing in full view. Worse, the climax of the picture literally involves one of the main characters being chased through the ocean by a shark, which is represented by a prop so absurdly fake-looking that one imagines every Malibu Beach crew member driving home from “shark day” in shame. The picture opens when a Southern California high school lets out for summer. Thereafter, pals Bobby (James Daughton) and Paul (Michael Luther) spend the summer dating lifeguard Dina (Kim Lankford) and her friend Sally (Susan Player), respectively. There’s also some inconsequential secondary material about a pair of inept cops who patrol the beach—the senior officer is a drunk, and the rookie is a pothead—as well as a thread about an aging beach bum who hooks up with a schoolteacher. Typical of Crown International Pictures’ mindless teensploitation flicks, Malibu Beach is padded with scenes that serve no dramatic purpose, including a disco-themed house party and a long visit to a bumper-car attraction. The movie also has lots of “tender” love scenes set to tunes in the Philly Soul style, but these vignettes mostly exist to justify shots of breasts. For viewers who are satisfied by ogling oceanfront property and young women, Malibu Beach may qualify as an adequate example of the loathsome teen-sex genre. But for viewers who expect what the movie promises beyond titillation—effervescence, laughs, and genuine sexiness—only disappointment awaits.

Malibu Beach: LAME