Jimmy Jake (Run) and Robbie Jean (Money) are the most charismatic liquor-store robbers in all of Cudrup County, so beloved that they can barely get away after the register is emptied because they're so busy signing autographs and kissing babies. When the law finally catches up with them, it's hard for anyone to imagine them doing actual hard time, so another punishment is meted out in the fourth installment of Wayne Rawley's spoofalicious Money and Run franchise, now playing at Impact.
They're told to go straight, or the orphanage will get torn down to make way for a nudie club.
No, it doesn't make any sense. Let go of that expectation, or indeed any desire for serious theatah, and just let the Bon Jovi wash over you as Rawley's homage to every incomprehensible '80s action television show trots out the sexy antihero couple, a scowling cop, a bitch-queen DA in perfectly square shoulderpads, and a game (if completely superflous) narrator.
Straight life turns out to be a single-wide in Chigger Meadows RV Park and a wretched day job at Cardinal Aberdeen's for Run, providing "the Clucky Experience" for people who eat too much fried food. How could you not want a job moving Clucky Chunks and Cinnagizzards? Especially when your boss likes to describe heterosexual intercourse as "taking the skintube to Happy Town"? Well, Run's kind of a spoilsport that way. Actually sort of proper and almost old-fashioned, he's also a sensitive, honorable fellow, for a robber. Meanwhile his lady fair is trying to get domestic, but her answer to a casserole being too hot is to pull out her piece and shoot it. Trouble in paradise, as the laconic narrator tells us.
On top of which, our heroes are getting pinned for the exploits of the Cudrup County Cablevision Home Shopping Network Three, a larcenous band of big-rig hijackers who are ensuring that only Big Momma Bob's bean refryers and Icee makers get through their blockade. How's a couple to stay on the straight and narrow when nobody believes they can do it?
Diehards who saw Impact do the first three episodes back in 2004 may be disappointed to see that there are no ninjas in this one, and that certain Impact stalwarts (Noah James Butler, Alyssa Bostwick, David Dyson) didn't make it back either. Director Desdemona Chiang does her best to soften the blow by offering up survivor Alexandra Creighton in boots and Daisy Dukes and pairing her with the clasically hunky Andrew Fonda Jackson, who actually manages to dignify a rainbow-feather-trimmed apron. There are several other very funny people, including but not limited to Hannah Marks with the wonderful voice, Sean Williford (who played the apartment in Impact's Crumble), and Impact newbie Carolyn Zola, who steals a scene just by starting to clap and then thinking better of it.
There are montages (the one to "Everybody's Working for the Weekend"? Instant classic). There are completely cartoonish fight sequences, including a nice off-the-wall-into-a-roundhouse combination that makes full use of the heroine's impossibly long legs. There's a completely mystifying dance sequence. Jennifer Lucas growls, "And that makes me sad. Like a sad clown," looking nothing like any sad clown you've ever seen. Near the end of the performance I saw, even the actors were having a hard time keeping straight faces. If you were disappointed by the Jessica Simpson Dukes of Hazzard, let Impact make it up to you here.
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