Blondes Have More Guns

Directed by George Merriweather

R

16 de febrero de 1996 89minComedia, Suspense

4.433%3.7

A bumbling detective, along with his loyal sidekick and a man in a dog suit, tracks down a sultry chainsaw murderess!

Blondes Have More Guns Ratings & Reviews

jackmeat25 de junio de 2025
My quick rating - 4.6/10. Ever wonder what would happen if Naked Gun and Basic Instinct got drunk, hooked up in a Troma Studios janitor’s closet, and then raised the offspring on late-night cable TV? Well, wonder no more. Blondes Have More Guns is the glorious, goofy result of that hypothetical union—an absurdist cop spoof packed with puns, plot holes, and enough visual gags to induce whiplash. Whether that’s from laughter or disbelief is entirely up to your blood alcohol content. At the center of this flick is Officer Harry Bates (Michael McGaharn), who is described as the "smartest" man on the force, though frankly, he couldn’t outwit a Roomba with a low battery. Luckily, he’s not alone. He’s got his trusty partner, Dick Smoker (yes, really), and a “dog” who’s very clearly just a grown man in a cheap dog costume. And honestly? That’s not even the weirdest part of the movie. The mystery? Oh yes, there is one. A trail of corpses (and not all of them are dead!) connected by only a scarf, a chainsaw, and a mysterious blonde. It’s all the evidence Harry needs to dive headfirst into a case he’ll inevitably bungle, especially once he gets entangled with Montana and Dakota, a set of twin half step-sisters (don’t ask). As expected, the moment romance enters, his brain leaves the building faster than a Troma intern who just read the script. The film opens with the obligatory Troma “boobs-for-boobs’-sake” scene, complete with inexplicable voice dubbing that might be parody… or just the editor giving up. That same dubbing pops up randomly throughout the movie, like a drunk narrator with a remote and no shame. Fortunately (or unfortunately), the pace of gags is relentless. If you blink, you might miss a dumb joke—though odds are, it’ll be repeated with a cymbal crash five seconds later just to make sure it lands. The humor is shotgun-blasted at your face, and about half the pellets hit. The first 20 minutes of the 89-minute film are surprisingly solid, leaning into zany wordplay, silly set pieces, and rapid-fire dialogue. But by the final act, it feels like the writers either ran out of money, jokes, or the will to live. The chainsaw promised in the synopsis barely revs. And gore? Practically nonexistent. This is a Troma movie without the blood or body parts, like ordering a burger from a steakhouse and getting a tofu sandwich instead. Still, credit where it’s due: Elizabeth Key as the sultry sisters delivers one of the more competent comedic performances. She’s charming, funny, and—judging by her IMDb—apparently vanished into the void after this. A shame. She was easily the highlight of the film, followed closely by a banana-based restaurant scene that may or may not have caused nerve damage (in a good way). Bottom line: Blondes Have More Guns isn’t high art, but it’s got enough chuckles, chaos, and cleavage to qualify as a guilty pleasure. Bring a six-pack and some friends with questionable taste, and you might just have a blast. It is a low-budget, high-gag-density spoof with a soft spot for silliness and sex jokes. Definitely not for everyone—but then again, neither is a guy in a dog suit solving crimes. So dumb it’s almost brilliant. Almost.

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