Dateline: World War Part 2. Some dames are flying a top secret mission over nip country when a pterodactyl gets sucked into one of their engines and they crash on Dinosaur Island. Okay, I call bullshit. The existence of Dinosaur Island has been positively confirmed (cf. Star-Spangled War Stories, Vol. 1), but trusting an important military mission to bunch of broads? In 1945? Give me a fucking break.

Since you can't kill dinosaurs by shopping or "accidentally" getting pregnant you'd figure this would be a pretty short movie, but fortunately a man is actually in charge of this little clambake so a couple of people do manage to survive. You probably think I'm saying that just to be a dick, and I am, but apparently the movie agrees with me because even though there's all this "grrl power" posturing almost every decision the chicks make turns out to be hilariously, disastrously wrong. Seriously, this might be the most anti-chick pro-chick movie ever made.

Let's see, what else is wrong with this flick? There's the story, which is just a bunch of random tasks strung together video game style (Stage 1: Landing the Damaged B-29!; Stage 2: Pterodactyl Dogfight!; Stage 3: Obtaining the Fuel Barrels!; etc.); there's the lame cartoon airplanes; there's the HCDF Syndrome; and, finally, there's the no tits. In short, not the Syphilis Channel's finest moment. Then again, what is?