Though the adventures of the sailors in this caper unfold over the course of the weekend indicated in the title, this bare bones offering seems to have been written and produced in even less time than that. This quick and economical approach was precisely the driving force behind Crown International's massive roster of b-flicks, a library that encompasses minor classics to unwatchable duds and everything in between, but in the case of Weekend Pass less is definitely less.
The story is built more on a scenario than an actual plot, following a quartet of Navy lads fresh out of basic training as they trek to Los Angeles for one last splurge of hedonistic freedom before reporting for duty. The first half of the movie essentially doubles as a tour of 1980's LA as the group drives aimlessly from one site to the next, hitting Sunset Boulevard, then a strip club, then the beach, and just to make sure the flick packs in as many requisite decade cliches as possible, the squad also takes an aerobics class and spends some time in south central gang turf.
There is a vague attempt made to infuse this otherwise banal road trip with some sex comedy tropes, but the film falls well short there by failing to deliver any legitimately funny moments--an especially egregious oversight in this case, given that a healthy chunk of the movie actually takes place inside a comedy club where the late great Phil Hartman serves as MC; yet, sadly, nothing especially humorous happens there, either. There's also no sex, so aside from a few bursts of gratuitous nudity, much of the action plays out like a generic PG teen rom-com.
Still, while this result may frustrate viewers expecting a healthy dose of raunch, it does serve to present the four leads as likeable scamps rather than horny dirtbags. Likewise, the gals they end up paired with are a refreshing change of pace from the new-wave strippers, naked masseuses, and vapid showbiz predators they initially lust after. The result is four couples you end up sincerely rooting for, which is a surprising outcome in a film that is otherwise built on tedium rather than engagement.
That satisfying finale isn't enough, though. The cocktail napkin plot requires lots of padding to flesh out into a feature-length film, so the few noteworthy aspects here are swallowed in a sea of filler. Director Lawrence Bassoff (who would go on to helm the last, and worst, Crown International release, Hunk) may have been hamstrung by working from a script that was ostensibly only 15 pages long, but that doesn't excuse his lazy mismanagement of the run-time. The strip club scene, which is there merely to set up a semi-comical exchange with one of the dancers, eats up twenty minutes of the film and features three complete performances. Ditto with the afore-mentioned sequence in the comedy club, where one of the sailors finally gets a chance to achieve his dream of doing stand-up... but not until after we sit through 15 minutes of painfully unfunny material from a slew of performers who otherwise have nothing to do with the movie. Certainly, a flick of this caliber isn't likely to draw the next Scorcese, but given how much emphasis is placed upon the bond between our principal Navy brothers during the conclusion, Weekend Pass would have been far better served by allowing its leads more onscreen camaraderie instead of squandering so much time on the film's unmemorable ancillary players and dead-end diversions.
In more capable hands, this movie could have maximized the potential of its endearing cast by giving them some genuinely humorous material to work with. Unfortunately, most of what ultimately ended up on the screen here is a slog to get through. And, while this certainly isn't the the shoddiest entry in the Crown International catalog, it stands as a largely forgettable jaunt that is easily overshadowed by any number of like-minded flicks of its era. Even if you have a whole weekend to spare, there are a lot better ways to fill it than this.
The story is built more on a scenario than an actual plot, following a quartet of Navy lads fresh out of basic training as they trek to Los Angeles for one last splurge of hedonistic freedom before reporting for duty. The first half of the movie essentially doubles as a tour of 1980's LA as the group drives aimlessly from one site to the next, hitting Sunset Boulevard, then a strip club, then the beach, and just to make sure the flick packs in as many requisite decade cliches as possible, the squad also takes an aerobics class and spends some time in south central gang turf.
There is a vague attempt made to infuse this otherwise banal road trip with some sex comedy tropes, but the film falls well short there by failing to deliver any legitimately funny moments--an especially egregious oversight in this case, given that a healthy chunk of the movie actually takes place inside a comedy club where the late great Phil Hartman serves as MC; yet, sadly, nothing especially humorous happens there, either. There's also no sex, so aside from a few bursts of gratuitous nudity, much of the action plays out like a generic PG teen rom-com.
Still, while this result may frustrate viewers expecting a healthy dose of raunch, it does serve to present the four leads as likeable scamps rather than horny dirtbags. Likewise, the gals they end up paired with are a refreshing change of pace from the new-wave strippers, naked masseuses, and vapid showbiz predators they initially lust after. The result is four couples you end up sincerely rooting for, which is a surprising outcome in a film that is otherwise built on tedium rather than engagement.
That satisfying finale isn't enough, though. The cocktail napkin plot requires lots of padding to flesh out into a feature-length film, so the few noteworthy aspects here are swallowed in a sea of filler. Director Lawrence Bassoff (who would go on to helm the last, and worst, Crown International release, Hunk) may have been hamstrung by working from a script that was ostensibly only 15 pages long, but that doesn't excuse his lazy mismanagement of the run-time. The strip club scene, which is there merely to set up a semi-comical exchange with one of the dancers, eats up twenty minutes of the film and features three complete performances. Ditto with the afore-mentioned sequence in the comedy club, where one of the sailors finally gets a chance to achieve his dream of doing stand-up... but not until after we sit through 15 minutes of painfully unfunny material from a slew of performers who otherwise have nothing to do with the movie. Certainly, a flick of this caliber isn't likely to draw the next Scorcese, but given how much emphasis is placed upon the bond between our principal Navy brothers during the conclusion, Weekend Pass would have been far better served by allowing its leads more onscreen camaraderie instead of squandering so much time on the film's unmemorable ancillary players and dead-end diversions.
In more capable hands, this movie could have maximized the potential of its endearing cast by giving them some genuinely humorous material to work with. Unfortunately, most of what ultimately ended up on the screen here is a slog to get through. And, while this certainly isn't the the shoddiest entry in the Crown International catalog, it stands as a largely forgettable jaunt that is easily overshadowed by any number of like-minded flicks of its era. Even if you have a whole weekend to spare, there are a lot better ways to fill it than this.