THE LADIES MAN
by Mike Miliard
Reviewing this sort of movie is always a challenge. Because, truth be known, I
have a substandard intellect. As such, even at a woeful turkey like this I find
myself laughing like a five-year-old whose pal just did a snot rocket. I can't
Leon Phelps (Tim Meadows), as you might guess, is a ladies' man. His black book
is the size of an overstuffed three-ring binder. He lives in a candle-lit,
coconut-butt-lotion-stocked houseboat (his "skanktuary"). And he sexes up many,
many ladies. So many, in fact, that their cuckolded husbands have banded
together in a society (united under the emblem of Leon's smily-face-tattooed
ass) whose aim is to cut off Leon's testicles. There's a happy ending, of
course: he sweet-talks them into leaving his manhood intact, finds his true
love, and forsakes his licentious lifestyle. Along the way, there are many
jokes about butts, asses, and derrieres.
I could quibble about sexism and racial stereotyping. But why? Like most other
Saturday Night Live spinoffs, The Ladies Man (directed by
Reginald Hudlin of House Party fame) is pointless and should never have
been made. But check your brain at the door and it almost stacks up to a
snifter of Courvoisier and a handful of butt.
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