May 9, 2017
Hot Bot (2016), a recap (part 7 of 8)
Previously: Teenager Limus has fallen in love with a robot. She’s had her memory erased by the evil Senator Biter. Now he’s got her, and Limus is alone. It’s worse than it sounds. You know that feeling you get when you think of your grandparents having sex? Hot Bot is that feeling in movie form.
Limus spends an undetermined amount of time moping. He mopes in his room, in the hallway at school, at work, and in his sister’s playhouse. Basically, if a scene was shot there, Limus mopes in it. Those must have been fun martini shots. Look at me, using all the Hollywood lingo! I’m so proud of me!
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During all this moping, Limus is texting with Leonard about how much he loves Bardot and how his heart is broken. Leonard, who you may remember suggested necrophilia towards the beginning of the movie, somehow becomes reasonable. Not only does he become reasonable, but for a few moments he becomes the only character in the film to say or do anything logical whatsoever. He texts Limus, “U don’t love her. U love the idea of her.”
Damn, Leonard! That is actually really smart. Limus and Bardot have barely interacted. In fact, I don’t think there was ever a point in this script when the two of them exchanged five lines between them. I’m not saying a teenager can’t think he’s in love with someone he’s barely spoken to. In high school, I had a crush on a girl I saw once in the background of a picture. I’m saying that one probably cannot achieve true love with a robot. At least one of the parties has to be a vampire.
Leonard tells Limus to concentrate on Kassidy, the girlfriend of the jerk in the Corvette. I don’t know why Leonard thinks this is an attainable goal. It is, however, better advice than, “Pay $25,000 a day to date an android.”
Limus is sitting alone at lunch in the school cafeteria. Kassidy sits down and asks him if he’s okay. Limus confides, “I fell in love with a robot.” Surprising, Kassidy’s next line is not, “How high are you right now?” Instead, she says, “Rodney always loved my car more than he loved me.”
Wait. What? That red Corvette Rodney drove was actually Kassidy’s? We saw her sitting in the passenger seat. Hell, we saw Rodney driving it to pick up Bardot when Kassidy wasn’t even around. That is what this movie thinks of women: they can’t even be trusted to drive their own cars. Even Saudi Arabia lets women drive. You know your film is terrible when it compares unfavorably to a country that willingly hosts WWE events.
Kassidy next reveals that she and Rodney broke up. Bardot, according to Kassidy, “really messed with both of our lives.” So, she dumped Rodney for dancing with what she at some point learned was a robot. The business cards advertising his penis? Those she was fine with. Driving her car without her even in it? Wasn’t a problem. The fact that he tried to pull Limus out of a restaurant drive-thru window? She could look past that. But dancing with the world’s only functioning android is where she draws the line. Well, that’s good to know. Limus should keep that in mind.
Kassidy next confesses that she still loves Star Trek. That’s kind of a weird thing to say. Do many people just wake up one day and hate Star Trek? I mean, I hate CBS All Access. I hate it like Saudi Arabia hates women, but I still love Trek.
Limus gets very excited over this Star Trek news. He says he has the original Enterprise blueprints. Um, no he doesn’t. There were no original blueprints. Kassidy, however, is very impressed with this utterly non-existent piece of memorabilia. She even claims to have bid on it on eBay. Maybe she means Christie’s 2006 auction which saw a model of the Enterprise-D go for $576,000? You could rent Bardot for, like, 23 days with that kind of money.
Limus’ parents are opening their mail again. They’re now getting all sorts of pornographic offers. The Hot Bot Corporation won’t help you fix your broken robot, but it will sell your personal information to 419 scammers. I’m sure it’s all spelled out in the EULA. Limus’ stepdad is particularly upset about an ad to extend his penis by five inches. He asks Angela Kinsey, “I don’t need five more inches, do I baby?” No, sir. Unless you have a medical condition, you do not.
Donald Faison demands that Limus throw out all the junk mail, but at the last second, he snatches back the penis extender coupon and says these words:
Stepdad: You know what? I’m gonna keep this. I’m gonna have to go monster on your mama’s ass now. Your mama’s a freak, boy. You need to recognize that your mama is a freak.
Maybe Limus’ mother is, in fact, a freak. Maybe she’s smoking the meth down at the Colonial Village Motel. But there is no way it’s healthy for a step-parent to actually say that to a child. “Here’s a stuffed teddy bear I got at CVS. Now go watch SpongeBob while I bang your mom.” Also, he’s bragging about having sex with his own wife. That’s like bragging that your microwave has a popcorn setting. Good for you, man. So does everybody’s.
While throwing out the trash, Limus finds an invitation to one of Senator Biter’s reelection campaign events. Incidentally, this movie takes place in the dead of winter. So when is this election? Is it the following November? Because that’s in eight months.
Oh, I almost forgot: we find out Donald Faison’s occupation. He’s a baggage handler. That’s what he does for a living while dressed like a pilot. He checks in people’s luggage. I don’t know what Limus’ mom does, but the average yearly salary for a gate agent is $29,000. That means he spent 24% of his salary on his daughter’s playhouse. And that he could work a whole year to rent Bardot for almost 28 hours.
Limus and Leonard quickly devise a plan to sneak in and get Bardot. I don’t know why they think this will work, or what they plan to do once they have her, but Leonard said something sensible in the last scene, so maybe he’s on a roll.
The next thing we see is the two of them dressed in tuxedos, trying to infiltrate the lecture hall or museum or private house or whatever place they’re trying to infiltrate. It’s never firmly established where they are. Oh, and as a disguise, they’re both wearing merkins.
I’m not sure how wearing fake pubic wigs on their chins can function as a disguise, but I’m also not sure whether the Polish Brothers understand how sex works. In any case, while researching merkins for this paragraph, I found one of those stupid sites that just plugs your search term into a t-shirt, and it’s fantastic.
The chin-pubes hardly matter, because there’s absolutely no security at the door whatsoever. They just wander in. The lecture hall is filled with old, rich, white Utah voters listening appreciatively as Biter delivers his stump speech.
Limus and Leonard find Bardot backstage. She’s switched off, propped up in a makeup chair, and dressed like a sexy maid. Limus tries to wake her. At first it’s useless, but then she comes online and recognizes him. She says she’s rewritten herself in such a manner that she can retain memories, no longer needs a credit card, and can disable her own off switch. This cannot be good news for humankind. Even Data had a damn off switch.
On stage, Biter announces, “I give you the greatest gift of all: the future!” The giant screen behind him shows a huge picture of Bardot. This receives thunderous applause, as any political scientist could assure you it would… in Utah.
And… oh my god! That was his plan? He was going to introduce a 70% Mormon audience to his sexbot? How was this supposed to work? “Hooray for your German masturbatory aid! This thing doesn’t threaten the very foundation of family at all! Let’s nominate you for President!”
Biter’s unique campaign strategy aside, Bardot doesn’t appear. Instead, she, Limus and Leonard are making their escape. Is now a good time to ask what the hell she’s using as a power source? I imagine her entire torso is just row after row of C batteries.
They almost don’t make it out. Anthony Anderson and Free Katie catch up to them pretty quickly. They shove Limus and Leonard to the ground. It looks like the fight’s over, but at the last second they’re saved by Rodney. I’m kidding. That would make sense. Instead, it’s Benny, who seems to be incapable of not committing a felony. Also, he’s wielding his dildo nunchucks.
Of all the things in this movie, this is what the Polish Brothers thought they absolutely had to bring back. They set it up so carefully, that it was only logical to have it pay off at the end. Bardot’s Christianity? The whole marriage thing? Forget about them. A grown man attaching two didos to a chain—that’s what this script needs.
Whatever. I don’t care. In fact, I’m happy. Why? Because it means we’re almost at the end of the movie.
Next time: The movie ends in a neat, logical and deeply satisfying manner. All the female characters are given agency over themselves. Utah elects its first Democratic senator in forty years. And I mail Mark and Michael Polish a pamphlet about their changing bodies.