Private School (Noel Black, 1983) Review

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“That was the finest example of bare back riding I've ever seen.” The follow-up to a movie you definitely couldn't make today (nor shouldn't), featuring quite a few scenes you definitely couldn't (or wouldn't) film today, wrapped-up in a chalk and cheese mash-up of sweet young love taking the next step and, well, lots of pretty lasses with their bits out...

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“I have to warn you: I like a lot of … whatchu-ma-call-it … foreplay.” Primarily set in and around the Cherryvale Academy for Girls, the boys of the Freemount Academy for Men frequently infiltrate the girls' dormitory for pranks and a chance to canoodle with their girlfriends. The plot of the film, if you can call it that, boils down to the raucous events of the week leading up to Christine (Phoebe Cates, Gremlins) and Jim's (Matthew Modine, Full Metal Jacket) planned night at a cheesy hotel where they will take the next step in their relationship and go all the way.

Considering the farcical opening of the movie, in which Jim and his best buddies Roy (Jonathan Prince, Private Resort) and Bubba (Michael Zorek, Hot Moves) form a human ladder in order to snap some Polaroids through the windows of the girls' dormitory, there is a surprising amount of tenderness to the scene where Christine and Jim mutually decide to make a date to lose their virginity together, a watershed moment that looms like the gateway to adulthood, reflected in their innocent and nervous-looking eyes.

“I'd like to buy some prophylactic devices.” This comes in stark contrast to a lot of the rest of the movie, written by Dan Greenburg (Private Lessons) and Suzanne O'Malley, which plays out in a patchy assortment of memorable but loosely connected scenes, some of which jarringly shift gears as if chunks of character motivation and storytelling cohesion had been chopped out and left trampled on the cutting room floor. The waif-like story revolves, at least to an extent, around the jealousy of dormitory rich bitch Jordan (Betsy Russell, Tomboy, the SAW franchise) who can't believe that the sweet-as-pie Christine is the apple of Jim's eye. But let's be honest here, how many guys wouldn't have melted into a pile of jelly at the sight of Cates' megawatt smile?! Any potential motivation gleaned from the rest of the movie as to why Jordan might think this way is sparse to the point of non-existence, although one might wonder if the endless slew of new-and-soon-to-be-replaced wives of her father is the source of some kind of personality defect … and while this isn't really that kind of a film, at least some sort of expressed motivation would've been nice.

Indeed, while the meagre meat of the film ultimately comes down to Christine and Jim's romance, and the brief wobbles along the way, the majority of the film is an excuse to cause a lot of havoc, bare a lot of flesh, sling in a bunch of pop songs, and generally go hog wild. That, ultimately, is the purpose: craziness and nudity with a sprinkling of charm and a dash of sleaze, the end.

“He says that I had three orgasms, that I begged him for mercy, and that I've never seen anyone so well endowed.” Private School is the second of three “Private” films from producer R. Ben Efraim, followed in 1985 by Private Resort, which co-starred Johnny Depp. However, it was notoriously preceded in 1981 by Private Lessons, about a teenage boy who falls in love with his tutor. The notorious aspect? Lead actor Eric Brown was 15 years old when filming began, but had turned 16 when two particularly intimate scenes between his character and the tutor (played by a 27 year old Silvia Kristel) were filmed in Mexico in order to 'be legal' … never mind that they'd be exhibiting the film worldwide (in a trimmed version that still leaves viewer's eyebrows soaring to the ceiling), but such were the attitudes of the time, especially so when it comes to an underage male and an older female, something that continues to be an often skimmed-over double-standard today.

Private School, by comparison, doesn't raise those kind of eyebrows (thankfully), but the perpetually offended brigade would certainly find themselves quickly frothed-up into a social media frenzy of enraged keyboard hammering. It's certainly true that in decades past, with a sales and contractual requirement for nudity in a film, producers, writers, and directors would often questionably insert such scenes into their films according to the genre. A dramatic film, for instance, might have shoe-horned some nudity in with a rape scene (the theory being “sex + drama = rape”), while a comedy took the approach of “sex + silliness = awkward or strange situation” … but when re-contextualised for today those 'awkward or strange situations' can sometimes turn into a list of crimes. Certain elements, or how those elements were employed, then versus now are two very different things, and it should be noted that the depth of thought put into those decisions were extremely different then as opposed to now. But it would be arrogant to think that there aren't things being featured in films today that won't be looked down upon in the future.

“Compared to Bubba, anyone's a saint.” Certainly, the film can awkwardly clash between the sweet-natured story of Christine and Jim, and the travails of Bubba, whose comedic antics amount to being a serial peeper and an actual rapist. Perhaps, even in 1981, Betsy's discussion of her first time with Bubba – played for “doesn't that sound so silly?” laughs – would've been met with unsure glances and cleared throats. The notion of a bunch of horned-up lads desperately trying to cop a peek at some showering co-eds is certainly a common one – the famous shower scene in Porky's, for example, which climaxes in a painful attempt to grab the suspect – yet the single-minded desperation of Bubba can't help but feel quite clumsy on rinse-and-repeat. All the more so when his girlfriend Betsy, who can similarly belch up a storm and pull off naughty pranks, seems perfectly willing to put up with his boorishness.

To be fair, Bubba typically winds up being played for the fool and the failure, same too for the likes of booze bag Mr Flugel, Rita's father, who staggers around drunk at social functions ogling bikini-clad girls and groping his own daughter's best friend. He and Bubba's antics come face-to-face, or hand-to-fake-boob, in the final scene with a knockout punch. Wild and crazy for the times, but aged like milk for today … but, again, while not having to personally approve of something depicted in a film, the context of the time in which any film is made must be remembered and understood. At least, one could say, no scenes in this movie had to be shot in another country in order to circumvent the law!

“I don't think you want anything that tawdry, do you? No. Or do you?” This all said, Private Lessons nonetheless pulls off numerous examples of riotous calamity and humour, such as the attempts of Miss Dutchbok (Fran Ryan, Pale Rider) to tour her coterie of elderly lady financial donors about the school grounds only to be repeatedly confounded by her student's sex-mad antics. What's more humorous, is that the old biddies become evermore charged-up by the capers, especially Birdie Falmouth (Frances Bay, Blue Velvet, Critters 3, In The Mouth of Madness), who can't help but smirk and titter with delight at a bottom-groping and boner-hiding co-ed dance, or Jordan's impromptu Lady Godiva-inspired routine upon horseback at an equestrian lesson.

Other highlights include Jim and Chrissy's attempt to purchase condoms, with Martin Mull (Clue) playing the pharmacist with a lengthy sales patter, or the Parent's Day event being interrupted by the broadcast moans of the Headmistress just before a Rolls Royce crashes the party to belly flop into the pool and, of course, the famous final scene where the graduates of Cherryvale give Miss Dutchbok their own personalised farewell.

“She's given us so much horse shit it's only fair we give her some back.” Hampered by its patchy script, Private Lessons still manages to stir up some flair, particularly in the case of Christine's best friend Betsy (Kathleen Wilhoite, Road House), who stampedes through the film like an agent of chaos and smirking mischief. There's a real glint of giggling devilry to Wilhoite's performance that gives her character a sparky spirit that spits in the face of the preppy rich girl culture of Cherryvale Academy. Wilhoite's debut performance in this film prefigured similarly anarchic turns in films like Murphy's Law (1986), where her unruly street urchin joined forces with Charles Bronson's tough-as-nails rogue cop. Frequently stealing most scenes she appears in, Betsy proves to be one of the best aspects of the entire film, bursting at the seams with so much fun.

“Pinch her boobs, it'll drive her crazy.” A quite specific example of the screenplay's patchy set-piece focused nature comes in the final act, when we suddenly switch gears to Bubba surrounded by a group of his pals with Roy taking a slew of bets with differing odds based on how many sexual bases Bubba can achieve; the audience finds itself lost and a bit confused as a result. When it comes to set-up, the film falters seriously … perhaps it isn't much interested in foreplay, just like Betsy?

There are strong enough ideas to many of the set-piece sequences, but Greenburg and O'Malley (the latter of whom presumably brought some spark to the female characters) don't quite grasp all the possibilities laid before them. For instance, when Bubba finds himself cornered inside a sweltering sauna with the Headmistress, and hiding beneath the bench she's laid out on, a suitable punishment for his latest excursion into peeping tomfoolery might've been for him to be trapped there as sweat rains down on him, getting into his mouth as he tries to suppress his retching before ultimately getting caught and battered about the head. Instead he just sneaks out unseen. Similarly, the aversion to alcohol by Coach Whelan (Julie Payne) is introduced at break-neck speed and produces little pay-off.

“Sex education? That's my favourite subject!” Tonally mismatched at times, and narratively underwhelming, Private School nevertheless retains enough cheeky charm and saucy shenanigans to justify why it was one of the most popular 'teen sex comedies' of the 1980s. In the days before the World Wide Web, when smut was something you had to be lucky enough to find littered in hedgerows or along railway tracks, it's little wonder this movie was a hit, especially in the wake of 1982's Fast Times At Ridgemont High with it's genre-defining swimsuit fantasy sequence starring Phoebe Cates. Fun fact: Fast Times' strict teacher Mr Hands was played by Ray Walston, who appears in this film as Chauncy the amorous Chauffeur.

Featuring Silvia Kristel (Emmanuelle) as sex education teacher Ms Copuletta in a small role, an eye-popping shower scene featuring Linda Wiesmeier (Malibu Express, Wheels of Fire) and an uncredited Brinke Stevens (Nightmare Sisters, Slave Girls From Beyond Infinity), as well as a gratuitous sexy callisthenics routine that was choreographed by Paula Abdul, Private School is an uneven but memorable and generally entertaining romp that had the benefit of a solid budget and an energetic soundtrack (two of the songs are sung by Phoebe Cates, including the bouncy end credits track How Do I Let You Know). The easily offended need not apply, while other viewers will no doubt recognise the disparity between 1983 and the current year, but it is best to understand, move on, and allow the film's less murky but nonetheless mucky moments swirl about them. It is, after all, an exploitation comedy.