The set-up for this light-hearted romp isn't exceptionally complicated: the manager of a limo company whose drivers are all stodgy old men is grudgingly forced to allow an esoteric new wave babe a chance to join their ranks, so he sets about to do everything in his power to make sure she fails miserably. Yet wrapping up the requisite wacky mid-'80s nudie hijinks in a fresh and unconventional plot is a big plus in this case, and My Chauffeur ends up being one of the more memorable offerings of its flavor and vintage.
The film's most abundant strength is that it's truly funny, and frequently so. Since the laughs arrive with such generous consistency, the movie maintains a lasting charm throughout rather than serving up a couple of decent gags and settling for being a nice try. Of course, central to that is the spirited performance by Deborah Foreman, who would handily steal the show even if she wasn't already the tale's leading lady. Add in some welcome support from Howard Hesseman, E.G. Marshall, a slew of familiar character actors, and the debuts of Penn & Teller in one extended notable sequence, and the result is a flick that doesn't necessarily demand inclusion in the decade's comedy canon, but comes admirably close nonetheless.
Most of the slapstick elements are handled with gusto by the limo-riding bit players, with Foreman acting as the sassy straight-(wo)man who inevitably gets chastised by her grumpy boss for the misdeeds of her passengers ("but she was worth 20,000 points" is one of her sharpest zingers, though I won't spoil the set-up by explaining it, and that particular vignette is so wtf bizarre it defies description, anyway). Naturally, she proves to be wildly popular among her clientele and thus an asset to the company, so watching her gradually win her co-workers over like she wins us over from the start imbues the film with bursts of surprisingly sincere heart to go with its keen comedic soul.
Though most of the action is dominated by the encounters between Foreman's delightfully-rendered Casey Meadows and the unruly fares her plotting dispatcher throws her way to scare her off the job, the amorous subplot which blooms between her and one particularly difficult client is just as pleasant to watch unfold. Since the two share a palpable natural chemistry and Casey is so comprehensibly endearing, it's easy to root the pair on all the way through the denouement, where once again the movie exceeds expectations by adding an additional layer to the twist the viewer has been conditioned to anticipate since the opening moments (while also affording Foreman the opportunity to deliver the best line in the movie for good measure).
My Chauffeur isn't a perfect film, but it is a whole lot of fun, delivering enough raunch and skin to please that sector of the audience while also allowing its adorable star and the likeable auxiliary characters around her to elevate the material beyond the obvious. What could have easily been just another entertaining but interchangeable sex farce is shaped into something far more impressive in these hands, and this outing doesn't merely work as an amusing diversion, a cavalcade of breasts, and a serviceable rom-com, it also works as a satisfying, well-made flick. And if nothing else, there are way worse ways to spend 95 minutes than hanging out with Deborah Foreman.
The film's most abundant strength is that it's truly funny, and frequently so. Since the laughs arrive with such generous consistency, the movie maintains a lasting charm throughout rather than serving up a couple of decent gags and settling for being a nice try. Of course, central to that is the spirited performance by Deborah Foreman, who would handily steal the show even if she wasn't already the tale's leading lady. Add in some welcome support from Howard Hesseman, E.G. Marshall, a slew of familiar character actors, and the debuts of Penn & Teller in one extended notable sequence, and the result is a flick that doesn't necessarily demand inclusion in the decade's comedy canon, but comes admirably close nonetheless.
Most of the slapstick elements are handled with gusto by the limo-riding bit players, with Foreman acting as the sassy straight-(wo)man who inevitably gets chastised by her grumpy boss for the misdeeds of her passengers ("but she was worth 20,000 points" is one of her sharpest zingers, though I won't spoil the set-up by explaining it, and that particular vignette is so wtf bizarre it defies description, anyway). Naturally, she proves to be wildly popular among her clientele and thus an asset to the company, so watching her gradually win her co-workers over like she wins us over from the start imbues the film with bursts of surprisingly sincere heart to go with its keen comedic soul.
Though most of the action is dominated by the encounters between Foreman's delightfully-rendered Casey Meadows and the unruly fares her plotting dispatcher throws her way to scare her off the job, the amorous subplot which blooms between her and one particularly difficult client is just as pleasant to watch unfold. Since the two share a palpable natural chemistry and Casey is so comprehensibly endearing, it's easy to root the pair on all the way through the denouement, where once again the movie exceeds expectations by adding an additional layer to the twist the viewer has been conditioned to anticipate since the opening moments (while also affording Foreman the opportunity to deliver the best line in the movie for good measure).
My Chauffeur isn't a perfect film, but it is a whole lot of fun, delivering enough raunch and skin to please that sector of the audience while also allowing its adorable star and the likeable auxiliary characters around her to elevate the material beyond the obvious. What could have easily been just another entertaining but interchangeable sex farce is shaped into something far more impressive in these hands, and this outing doesn't merely work as an amusing diversion, a cavalcade of breasts, and a serviceable rom-com, it also works as a satisfying, well-made flick. And if nothing else, there are way worse ways to spend 95 minutes than hanging out with Deborah Foreman.