Another cheapo epic from the director and star of Deadly Weapons, with 'Chesty' this time playing a Bond-style secret agent chosen to root out a heroin gang because her 73-inch physical attributes enable her to have a camera embedded in her left breast - an excuse to let it all hang out. With the plot to all intents and purposes out of commission, we are left with a series of grotesquely filmed, weird, almost symbolic acts. A kind of cryptic, distorted meditation on femaleness develops, given the obvious alienation 'Chesty' experiences from her body, with breasts as objects of fear to be operated on and deployed in the context of various phallic objects. Despite maternal connotations, she is associated totally with death and loneliness, and the film becomes a monument to pathological male fantasies.
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