Contraband, or, how I learned *** spoiler alert ***

to mask up for an armored car robbery when pantyhose isn't available.

Some kid boreds a tramp steamer and attempts to smuggle drugs. No story there. Go away. Next thing I know, kid is being threatened because he snorted the whole five keys with a garden hose or something. No story there either. But...

the kid's sister, married to a former drug smuggler who has been turned into a kind, loving,  generous, family man with two kids by his skinny, lovely, fawning bitch of a wife, works as a Mexican gardener or something. No story there, but...

when the kid brother of the skinny, lovely, fawning bitch of a wife gets chased down and threatened by some bad guys because he snorted five keys of coca that didn't belong to him with a fire hose, skinny, lovely, fawning wife-bitch wheedles husband into doing one more drug run to raise the funds to free her kid brother from the five keys he has hanging around his neck. No story there, but...

ex-smuggler takes snot-nosed kid brother to Panama, where they will donate cash to buy cash on a cash-for-cash deal that goes horribly wrong when snot-nose steals the cash for the cash and heads for the high ground to buy another five keys. Nothing new there, but...

ex-smuggler, now with his cash for the cash disappeared and nothing to lose, agrees to tag along on an armored-car robbery as a crash-car driver so that he can smuggle cash and a fine art painting in a van aboard a tramp steamer bound for N'Awleans. When the armoured car finally runs into the crash-car, multiple Panamanian bad-guys arrive in beaters to do armed robbery stuff,

*** BEGIN spoiler alert ***

while wearing threatening masks made out of duct tape.

*** END spoiler alert ***


Obviously, making this movie in Mexico was too expensive to afford the hiring of actual colorful Mexican wrestlers, thus the overheads of the Panama Canal AND the Panamanian wrestlers wearing threatening duct tape masks. Or, there are no ski hills in Panama, thus making wool face masks terribly hard to obtain. Or, there is no pantyhose in Panama.

When the skinny, lovely, fawning wife-bitch gets buried where she deserves to be buried in the ceement pond, all goes well when a cell phone rings in the theater.

No one answers.


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