Is it an impossibly sad hour in this lonely, pathetic little world when a guy who claims to be an aficionado of cinema boldly declares that a picture as goofy as Eddie Nicart’s surreal 1981 action/comedy “For Your Height Only” renewed his interest in the medium? If so, hang your heads and mourn the minutes, dear readers, for Weng Weng is responsible for saving this wayward sheep’s wavering cinematic soul. The film — and I use that term loosely — is, at its core, a cheap, one-note exploitation job featuring rising cult icon Weng Weng, a two-foot-nine Filipino martial artist who seemingly has the ability to slide across smooth surfaces with the speed, grace, and agility of a buttered baked potato. The story is utterly senseless; all you really need to know is that Agent 00 is hot on the trail of a shady organized crime syndicate which seeks to peddle cheap drugs to innocent, unsuspecting kindergartners. Armed to the teeth and deadlier than a barbed condom, Weng Weng deals massive amounts of pint-sized damage to waves of generic thugs, all of whom seem to have a penchant for unbuttoned Hawaiian shirts. There’s not a lot of dialogue to digest, mind you, but what exists is crispy, golden, and oh-so satisfying, delivered courtesy of some of the worst second-rate voice acting known to mankind. Let me put this in a language you can understand: “For Your Height Only” dwells within the same plane of artistic brilliance as, say, “Troll 2”, or “The Garbage Pail Kids Movie”. Unwarranted hyperbole, you ask? Perhaps. Only those who’ve already taken personal trip through the weird world of Weng Weng will know for sure.