Guy movies. Making one is easy, right? I mean, have a few explosions, hire plenty of large-breasted actresses, and the movie just makes itself.

Or does it?

A Don Siegel or a Sam Peckinpah seemed to have no problem turning out one testosterone-soaked, shootout-filled muscle-fest after another, but maybe that's just because they had the cojones to back it up. What happens when a writer or filmmaker who lacks his macho bona-fides takes a crack at the guy movie genre?

In this article, we'll explore four films that don't pass the manly muster--wannabe guy flicks made by sissy boys that strive for the masculine fortitude of say, a Paul Newman, but end up with the pimply-face wienerdom of Alfred E. Neuman instead. A word of warning: each of these films was a financial, critical, or at least a cult success. If not, they wouldn't be worth criticizing. But let's really look at these movies and see if they deserve whatever positive attention they've gotten. Of course, if you disagree, you're encouraged to write us and let us know why you're defending these unmasculine hacks.

So let's take a little journey, and look at four crummy movies that may lock and load like a guy movie, but when the aim is taken, and the entertainment dollars spent, have got loofahs in the barrel, doilies in the chamber, and find themselves shooting blanks.

We'll start with a sacred franchise: 007, king of the secret agents. Six years after Timothy Dalton's Bond appeared in two pretty entertaining features, we were introduced to Pierce Brosnan's take on the British super-agent in Martin Campbell's Goldeneye (1995) . Without critiquing Brosnan's performance (we're not here to rag on actors, after all), I've got to ask: has there ever been a weaker, more toothless Bond?

Before I explain, I'll concede that Goldeneye has some things to recommend it: the stunt work is very entertaining, and the stunning Famke Janssen as the evil Xenia Onatopp, a foreign agent who kills men by squeezing them between her thighs (men who, in a plot anomaly that's never really explained, seem to object to it) is a yummy confection that I'd like to store in a cabinet and only take out for special occasions.

Credit director Martin Campbell (who has a much better film under his belt with this year's Mask of Zorro) for keeping things moving well enough, but where this movie really falls down is in the writing. There are 2 writers credited, but I'm going to choose as the object of my scorn only one: Mr. Bruce Feirstein, the man who also penned, on his lonesome this time, the equally inadequate follow-up, Tomorrow Never does something or other.

The thing is, Feirstein has positioned himself as an authority on guys and guyness. In touchy-feely books like Real Men Don't Eat Quiche, Real Men Don't Bond, and Nice Guys Sleep Alone, going back to the early 80's, Feirstein has been claiming some unique insight into being male in America.

So if he knows men so well, why can't he write a decent James Bond? Let me tell you what I'm talking about . . . Let's take as a comparison an early classic Bond film: Goldfinger.

In Goldfinger, 007 (played by Sean Connery) is at one point captured and held in a jail cell in Goldfinger's underground complex, with an Asian guard parked right outside. Bond has no weapons and no means of escape. So how does he get out? Watch this: he starts pacing, always making sure the guard can see him through the small barred window. He paces towards the far end of the room, paces back to the window and gives the guard a little wave. Then he paces to the back wall again, back to the window again, and another wave. Now, to the back wall, to the little window again, and this time he gives the guard a wink. Then he sinks slowly straight down, and disappears from view. The guard, suddenly disconcerted, goes to the window and looks in the cell--no Bond. The guard kicks in the door and enters, gun drawn. Bond, of course, drops from the ceiling and disarms the guard. And he makes his escape.

See, this is what makes 007 007. An impossible situation, no way out, but through a clever and simple ploy, he escapes.

Now let's look at Goldeneye. This time, Bond's nemesis is Alec Trevelyan, the former 006. Again, I won't critique the performance of Sean Bean, the actor who plays 006, except to say that although he isn't nearly as interesting as Goldfinger, Mr. Bean should get an Oscar for being able to keep a straight face while saying such tongue-twisting lines as "So, in one of life's little ironies, the son went to work for the government whose betrayal caused the father to kill himself, and his wife." (You want a glass of water after that line, Sean?)

Anyway, with 006 as his adversary, Bond should have an extra challenge, right? I mean, here's a guy who knows all of Bond's tricks, all of Bond's training . . . He even tells Bond at one point "It's insulting to think I haven't anticipated your every move."

So if Bond wants to survive this adventure, he's going to have to be extra clever, extra Bond . . . let's examine how he does it: first, Trevelyan tries to kill him by putting him in a helicopter timed to blow itself up. Now understand, Bond was unconscious, tranquilized--Trevelyan just had to put a bullet in his brain if he wanted him dead. But I guess that would be unworthy of a supercriminal, because instead he puts Bond in the aforementioned helicopter. Okay, but that's still pretty valid--I mean, how can Bond save himself if he's asleep? Alas, an unforeseen wrinkle manages to put a crimp in Trevelyan's plan: basically, Bond wakes up. Yup, no way to anticipate that.

But fortunately, Trevelyan gets another chance to kill Bond. This time, he decides the smartest way to do it will be to put him in a train, again timed to blow up (noticing a pattern here?) There's no escape from this train--it's solid metal, and scheduled to explode in three minutes. So how does Bond escape this time? He cuts through the metal floor with a laser beam from his watch.

A laser beam watch??! Well, shit, if I had had that watch, I could have escaped! This is a super-agent? Not to mention: you'd think that would be just the sort of thing 006 would be anticipating. Ah well, they don't make super-agents like they used to.

So this is my complaint. Can we see some writers working on Bond who know how to create a Bond worthy of the of name? Being a light sleeper and having a laser beam watch are not what make Bond a man we can respect--it's being clever, and resourceful, and having a solution for every problem. Not to mention having problems that are actually a challenge to solve.

The next Bond film is scheduled for release next year. We'll have to see how it stacks up. But they're bringing in new writers, so at least they've done one thing right.

On to the next sissy flick -->