L.E.T.H.A.L. Ladies: Return to Savage Beach

You know those people who come into your life, and you just label them as weird or stupid? Let’s be honest, real idiots. They say dumb things and make lame jokes. But then, when you stop hanging out with them, you find yourself thinking that yeah, they were idiots, but you kind of miss them. At least a little.

That’s exactly the farewell feeling I got watching L.E.T.H.A.L. Ladies: Return to Savage Beach—or just Return to the Savage Beach, as it’s known to fans. This is the last “Triple B” movie and also the last film by Andy Sidaris, who retired after this and passed away in 2007.

This 1998 movie is sort of a sequel to Savage Beach, mixed with the earlier Day of the Warrior. You can almost feel a sense of farewell in it. Maybe Sidaris knew that his era of B movies was coming to an end and that the genre was heading in an even cheaper direction. Or maybe that’s just me reading into it. I don’t know. But what’s clear is that the director literally returns to Savage Beach, filming in Hawaii again, bringing back some familiar faces, and even reusing scenes from the 1989 film.

The opening of this movie is already something memorable. After a song that tries to capture some James Bond vibes, Julie Strain emerges from the water (dressed), hops into her sports car, and drives to a small house that turns out to be the headquarters of a local radio station run by a sexologist (played by Ava Cadell, a well-known therapist in the U.S.). But this is actually the control center for the famous Lethal Agency. From there, they’re in bikinis, watching the launch of a spy satellite to spy on the bad guys.

Meanwhile, a super blonde new recruit, Cate Wescott (a 1993 Playmate), dressed in a tight red latex dress, pretends to be a pizza delivery girl. She sneaks into Lethal, drugs everyone, and steals a precious floppy disk, which is the first part of a treasure map for Savage Beach.

From here, the fight against the bad guys kicks off, as usual. There are explosive toy cars, bullets flying, and every now and then, someone strips down or has sex for no particular reason.

In the end, it’s the usual Sidaris formula, with a retro flair to say goodbye to the big boobs, bullets, and explosions that defined his films. And the final gem? An improbable Scooby-Doo-style plot twist.