Little boys of all ages will have a hoot watching Son of Sinbad, a mostly awful film that nonetheless has some attractions. The main attraction is a bevy -- and I do mean a true bevy -- of beautiful women, frequently scantily clad. Straight boys will enjoy ogling, while those of a campier bent will enjoy laughing at how ludicrously pandering it all is. And women? Those with a good sense of humor who can stomach some offensively sexist dialogue and the use of women as nothing more than sex objects will be quite amused. Sinbad is so bad that I suspect many women will be able to laugh at it. Everyone will certainly be able to laugh at Dale Robertson's performance; he may be wearing desert clothing, but he still speaks and acts like a cowpoke. The women mostly dance and look fabulous, which they do very well. The screenplay is ridiculous, as is Ted Tetzlaff's direction, but Vincent Price's hammy turn is quite enjoyable. There's also some nifty cinematography, noteworthy sets and costumes and a fine Victor Young score. It's still a poor film -- but taken in the right context, it can be a lot of fun.