This review is so money.

But that's only because the movie which inspired the review was as money as could be, money enough to please all the babies.

The film in question: Swingers, a hot little low-budget Miramax release creating a huge sensation in the art house circles and spreading to the main stream audience faster than you can dance the Macarena.

The reviewer has just committed an unforgivable offense by mentioning The Demon Dance in conjunction with a truly worthy movie. The reviewer has been summarily taken outside and pummeled o within an inch of his life to pay for his crimes. It's not enough, we know, but it's a start, and this senseless beating will hopefully serve as a warning to any other reviewer out there who might dare mention The Demon Dance in any review, for any movie. Unless the movie in question stars Antonio Bandaras, then it's money.

Sorry about that, folks. Shall we continue?

Swingers star no one you've ever heard of. It was written by one of those no ones, and directed by yet another no one. The Director also doubled as the DIrector of Photography, so that's a no one too. It is, quite simply, a first-time-out attempt by these no ones to make a movie. And make a movie they did.

Being a low-budget movie, it does what low-budget movies need to do to be credible. Talk. There are no explosions (explosions cost money), there are no big car wrecks (car wrecks cost money), and there are no naked women (can't understand why, them are free!).

Instead, Swingers concentrates on telling the story of a young man trying to get over a relationship, and the friends who try to help him. They help him by taking him out every night. They go to Vegas, they go to the clubs, they play video games. They dress like Lounge Lizards, have no jobs (most of them are trying to be actors), and hunt down the women like wolves after a pack of cute, little bunnies.

They get a nightlife.

And while they're at it, they tell us a lot about what life is really like for these Los Angeles late-20's adolescents. Things you need to know. Like how long to wait before calling the girl you met at the bar (2-3 days), when to meet for drinks before heading out to the party which starts at 8:00 (10:00), and most importantly, how to get that really gorgeous Vegas Cocktail Waitress to take you home (still trying to figure that one out).

Some of you will see this movie and think, "That is so true! My God, this is funny!" Others will see this movie and think, "Is that true? My God, how depressing! But funny!" Others will not see this movie. I identified with this movie, and especially with the main character, who was so pathetic in his inability to get over his previous girlfriend, I could have been looking into a mirror. This is the character we watch grow, the one we care about, and cheer for in the end. The other characters are also wonderful to behold, but none of them go through anything except rolls and rolls of quarters.

As is true for almost any art house film that crosses over to the mainstream, the script is the real hero of this picture. It is full of the witty, back and forth banter that brings the scenes to life, giving you references like a character hoping his buddy will be like the guy in the R Rated movie instead of the PG-13 Rated movie. That's a silly reference, but you get it.

Swingers doesn't try to be anything it isn't. It's just too money to do that, and doesn't need to waste its energy. I give this movie 3 1/2 Babylons. Perhaps it deserved more, but hey, deep down, I love the explosions and car chases, and this had neither.

And I'm really annoyed they didn't have any naked women, I mean come on! That's what art house films are for!

Editor's Note:

As a courtesy, we have convinced The Self-Made Critic to give us a definition of the over-used term, "money." As we waited on the fourteenth green for him to scribble out his definition he muttered a few choice words under his breath about how we had no style and were doomed to forever waddle away like te un-cool ducks we were. We hope you appreciate the indignities we suffer for your education. Here is his definition:

Money = All That

Yeah, yeah, we know. We took one look at the words written on the back of the "Pleasure Chest" business card and rolled ours eyes. Before we could get an explanation of "All That" Mr. Stuffed Shirt, Thinks-he's-hot-'cause-he-went-to-a-screening Critic had shanked the ball into the woods and was off to quietly toss a ball onto the fairway and hope no one noticed.

What can we say, we tried.