Who else grew up watching USA Up All Night in the early 1990s? If you did, guess what? We’re friends now! I like you. You’re as damaged as me. (Note: I require an impression of the way that host Rhonda Shear used to say the words “USA Up All Night” to verify that you are who you say).
For those who don’t know, let me edumacate you.
Back in the 80s and 90s, the USA cable network seemed to be run from some guy’s basement. It was stupid. It was trashy. It was completely idiotic. It was a lot of fun. There was a weekend afternoon show called Commander USA’s Groovie Movies in which some guy with a mustache played horror host in a bad superhero costume. The movies were old and fuzzy, but I still watched them whenever I could. I was in a TV trance.
Then, late Friday and Saturday nights was USA Up All Night. Six hours of total trash. Troma movies, sex comedies, horror, Linnea Quigley, Michelle Bauer, The Bikini Carwash Company II. It was one of those old school cable TV shows that seemed like they were sneaked past the executives. All of the stuff that you were too embarrassed to rent at the video store showed up here, broadcast nationwide and sponsored by Heinz Ketchup and Kimberly-Clark (or whoever). Shrimpy Gilbert Gottfried brought the funny as the host on Friday night. Buxom Rhonda Shear brought the sexy (and her share of funny, too) on Saturday nights. Lonely adult men and lonely teenagers tuned in every week. I oughta know. I was one of them (teen contingent).
And I think I saw bits and pieces of Vice Academy, like, four times.
It’s the touching story of bumbling police academy students (all women, one guy) who are out to join the vice squad and before they can graduate are, very realistically, required to arrest as many prostitutes and pornographers as they can. Naturally, that requires a little undercover work. And Linnea Quigley, always happy to take off her clothes, is a perfect fit.
Watching this again on uncut DVD (with a candid director’s commentary track!), it’s clear that this movie was MADE for USA Up All Night (or commercial cable TV, at least). There are no curse words. All of its nudity comes in throwaway scenes that can be painlessly edited out. What’s left is a sea of sex jokes and double entendre that play perfectly for late nights, when all critical judgment is relaxed.
One more interesting thing: While it’s probably due to budget constraints, director Rick Sloane shoots this film like a 1920s silent comedy. His camera hangs back and respects the classic proscenium look. He doesn’t seem to know what a close-up is. He’s never heard of montage. Sloane just points and shoots and hopes for the best. Lucky for him, his cast of unsung pros and porn stars hoping for a mainstream break do their best.