Borrowing it's primary plot elements from a B-movie "classic" such as Bikini Carwash may sound like a fun enough idea (example: a place of business is going under to the evil competition, so they revamp with boobs), but the film is executed more in the style of Meatballs 4 and National Lampoon's Last Resort. And for those of you who somehow happened to miss those Hiam/Feldman classics, you'll know that's not a good thing.
As the film opens, we are introduced to our narrator, Sonar. This fellow is a one man comedy show! He continuously pops in and out of the picture, making extremely inept and unfunny remarks about the film's proceedings. To make matters worse, his character has little-to-nothing to do with the narrative. This seems to be an ongoing theme with Golfballs - NO POINT FOR EXISTANCE. Moving along. We soon figure out that Sonar works for the Pennytree golf club. Pennytree was once a bustling, lavish course filled with happy strokers (sorry - couldn't refuse). Unfortunately, their business died out with the disco era. To make matters worse, during decade following the snobby Bentwood (see the hilarity - it's like Brentwood - but it's spelled BENT - hahahahahaha!!!!!) Country Club opened directly next door. And get this...They've put a nail in Pennytree's coffin by offering better golf AND a course without divits or sandtraps on the fairways. Those bastards! Now, maybe I'm wrong, but the "bad guys", AKA Bentwood, don't seem so bad. Sure, they're snobby (the rival club owner falls to cliche - an uptight rich man sporting a pink sweater around his neck, complete with a nerdy assistant who oogles at his slutty, big-breasted wife), but it's free enterprise. And let's face it, that Pennytree place really is a dive. In fact, I felt sorry for the owners of Bentwood, as the bastards at Pennytree pull rude, constant practical jokes on them. Are we supposed to like these people?
The film finally finds a groove, as it slips into auto-pilot mode. Unfortunately, this just means that it repeats the same lame breast-laden jokes over and over. Pennytree steals Bentwood's clients by offering them slutty golf. Yaddda yadda yadda. The golf pros offered are either hot guys or girls (depending on the client's sexual preference). Yadda yadda yadda. People get their golf cart washed by scantily clothed "beautiful" people. Yaadda yadda yadda. The film ends with the usual golf-tournament showdown (winner takes all - both clubs or none), but does this with unusual tastelessness. The writers decide to make fun of alcoholism by having the ringer for Pennytree be a once semi-pro golfer turned adict to the drink. He plays a perfect game while taking swigs from a flask. I don't get the humor here, and the film doesn't even try to make a point of the dangers of dependence on the bottle. Those scenes are just in the movie to just be...well...filler, I guess. To make the matters worse, they've named this character Steve Shank...but he never shanks. Where's the humor? Hello? Anyone? Bueller....Bueller...
Golfballs! is the kind of film that thinks repetetive jokes filled with groin injuries are funny. Where giant silicon boobies bounce with bongo drum sound effects. Where the writers can't fill the premise of a good joke with decent comedic filler (for example - a dog is fed laxatives - instead of a disgusting feces-filled scene, all we are left with is the sound effect of farting as the dog runs around). Points go to the Raintree Golf Club in Ft. Lauderdale Florida for letting this turd-burger be shot entirely on their property.
The high point: The boobies. There's a LOT. Enough to pump this bore-fest's rating up a half star.
The low point: Everything else. I SWEAR it was 4 hours. How can any film with this much nudity be so BOOOORING???
Bottom line: Grab your golf club. Got it? Good. Now stand completely upright. Lift the club's head upward. Now, on the count of three, swing in a downward motion and smack yourself in the groin area. One, two, three....There. That experience was more pleasant than Golfballs!
One more note: On the Internet Movie Database, this summary of Golfballs was posted by [email protected] - Now, I assume he was the film's director, as NO ONE in their right mind could get this synopsis from some garbage sex comedy shot on what appears to be porno film:
Conspiracy. Power. Sex. Golf? Ah, the Pennytree Golf Club. 18 holes at its finest. If you played there in the late-70's. Now run-down and nearly deserted, only a few faithful duffers keep club owner Josh Pennytree and his drop-dead-gorgeous granddaughter Liberty in business. All the other customers fled to the Bentwood Country Club nearby; awesome to behold, even if it's run by sleazy, stuck-up land baron Simon Roosevelt. Stealing the former Pennytree crowd isn't enough for Simon; he's scheming to take over the Pennytree property for a lucrative condo complex. Liberty gets wise to Simon's scam - and gets fightin' mad. Though Liberty can't compete with deep pockets, she CAN compete with a new staff of gorgeous babes and bold hunks! Scouting the dance and strip clubs and finding the hottest bodies on the beach, Liberty gives Pennytree a new start. New services, guaranteed to do absolutely nothing for your handicap but leave you wanting more. Hot uniforms, massages, and the legendary cart wash, even though golf carts don't REALLY get that dirty (wink, wink!)...not that there's anything wrong with that! Busloads of new customers suddenly appear, and the money's rolling in. Even Simon's spies are giving in to their wildest desires at Pennytree. Trouble's still ahead, as misunderstandings arise between Liberty and her boyfriend, handsome co-worker Neil Walker. Simon finally raises the ante with a winner-take-all challenge: one round of golf. Bentwood's best vs Pennytree's best. Winner gets the loser's property. It's up to legendary golf pro Dwayne Rider to save the day for Pennytree... if he can still hold a club after a hearty breakfast of bourbon...hold the eggs. Bentwood's star player - Steve Shank, inclined to play dirty and a weakness for beautiful women. Who will get the stroke... and who will get the shaft? Golf will never be the same!
