Angels on AMG
Angels is a tepid fantasy that attempts to take a basic philosophical conundrum (if God really loves us, why do we all have to die?) to farcical extremes by presenting God as a suave, cynical crime boss partial to cigars, practical jokes, and contract hits. When one of God's children doesn't make it to heaven at his/her appointed time, angels are dispatched to take out the offender with bloody car accidents and sniper fire. There's apparently no hell in this conception of the afterlife, or its definition is fuzzy, since two vicious gangsters find themselves at the pearly gates after expiring and are warmly welcomed by the Almighty, who immediately sends them back to Earth for an angelic assignment. If dwelled upon, it's a pretty bleak vision, but Angels isn't a film to be overly analyzed, since it fails at maintaining the integrity of this weird universe throughout its running time, and ultimately makes no sense and draws no laughs. It doesn't help that none of the characters are likeable, not even God, and certainly not the ostensible hero of the piece, a self-absorbed filmmaker obsessed with death who finds himself a target and never learns why. Even game performances from Mark Suben and Dan McCarthy as the gangster duo don't make up for unfunny jokes, interminable mime routines and satire that never knows where to aim. Is God the target? Is it religion in general? Arrogant artists or humanity itself? Writer/director Spencer Compton earns points for staging a lengthy chase scene on roller skates, and long-faced character actor Vincent Schiavelli is always welcome, but Angels isn't provocative enough to even rate as blasphemy. FRED BELDIN

Getting Into Heaven on AMG
Fans of the bodacious Uschi Digard won't need any excuse to watch her simulate fornication for 90 minutes, which means that concocting Getting Into Heaven's fragile slip of a plot was a waste of time. Digard plays Heaven (get it?), an aspiring starlet with a roommate named Sin (short for Cindy, get it?), and both are willing to do whatever it takes to get into the movies. The salacious Mr. Salacity is "considering" them for parts in his next film and makes no secret of his lecherous expectations, which steams Heaven's poindexter boyfriend. He wants Heaven to give up her dreams of stardom and marry him, but she bargains for one more chance to make it in show business. Will taking Mr. Salacity hostage and forcing him into a marathon sex session result in acting roles for Heaven and Sin? Getting Into Heaven is a genial, good-natured softcore sex romp filmed with big, bright colors and a goofy sensibility, but Edward L. Montoro isn't even a poor man's Russ Meyer. There's way too much exposition for such slight material (it could be cut down to half an hour without anyone noticing) and the jokes are tiresome. But who cares? Digard's charms will be enough to carry the weight for mammary fetishists, her female co-stars are equally zaftig, and the obligatory lesbian sequence is soaked with baby oil. Still, only the most nostalgic smut hounds will find Getting Into Heaven worth getting into. FRED BELDIN