Screwballs (Rafal Zielinski, 1983)

Never have I seen a more single-minded effort to catch but a fleeting glimpse of a specific section of the female anatomy than what I saw transpire in Screwballs, an indisputable candidate for the title of: "Most Juvenile Movie Ever Made." Mixing flat out stupidity, puerile humour, and crass wordplay, the ashamedly Canadian film, directed by Rafal Zielinski (Valet Girls) and written by Jim Wynorski (Chopping Mall) and Linda Shayne (Loose Screws), has an unflinching purity about it that most sex comedies seem to lack. What I mean is there's no pretense about what the characters' primary goal is: They want to see the unclothed boobies of a virginal high school senior, and that's it. No clandestine hand jobs, no dry humping on a library sofa, no upside down cunnilingus, not even an awkward courtesy fuck on the oversized lucite table overlooking your sickly sister's colourful collection of deformed doll heads, they simply want their eyes to render the image of her naked breasts in order that their cerebral cortex can provide their flaccid penises with the data required to fashion an erection of some standing. The amount of energy the lead boys put into their unsavory but rational undertaking will no doubt impress even the most jaded perversion observers. Impress because half of them seem to already have access to a steady supply of willing ladies. In fact, one of them can be seen on a drive-in date with three attractive women simultaneously (they patiently wait their turn to make out with him). So, it's got nothing to do with lacking companionship. What I think drove these horny individuals was the desire go where no one had gone before.

Similar to way Vasco da Gama or any number of Eurotrash explorers reacted when they first became aware of land they had not seen before, the fivesome in Screwballs see the modestly hilly region on the front of Purity Busch's sexy frame as an undiscovered swath of territory prime for exploitation.

Except, instead spreading disease, opening trade routes, and committing atrocities, all these guys wanna do is ejaculate seminal fluid in a calm and dignified manner.

Surrounded by (please excuse my crudeness) choice pieces of tail, five male high school students at Taft & Adams High from various walks of life make a pack with one another to do what whatever it takes to unveil the tits of Purity Busch (Linda Speciale) while cleaning frogs in detention. Each of which, by the way, is sent to detention via perverted circumstances.

Taking turns, the five horny dudes hurl themselves at Purity with an unambiguous fervor. The fresh-faced new kid, Tim (Jim Coburn), takes the first crack at her by sneaking into her bedroom while she sleeps; an ultra nerdy but technically efficient Howie Bates (Alan Deveau) tries to lure her into girls change room; masturbation enthusiast Melvin Jerkovski (Jason Warren) uses stealth to catch his glimpse (he buries himself in the sand underneath her favourite spot at the beach); the suave Brent (Kent Deuters) and his trusty tennis racquet (he's never seen without it) tries to poison her during a party celebrating the opening of the school's brand new airplane repair facility (!?!); and the equally suave Ricky (Peter Keleghan) dresses in drag masquerading as a sewing teacher (the real teacher has been bound and gagged in a storage closet).

As you would expect, each one of these attempts to reveal Purity's num-nums is met with profound failure.

In terms of going down in flames the best, I'd say Howie's failure was the most satisfying. Call me mentally unwell, but the sight of his gangly frame being beaten by a scantily clad armada of zombie teenage girls looked quite enjoyable–you know, from certain angles.

Clearly exhausted by the amount of effort each put into his attempt to rob Purity of her chastity, the boys blow off some steam by engaging in a spirited game of strip bowling with a group of gals; a group that includes Bootsie Goodhead (Linda Shayne) and Rhonda Rockett (Terrea Smith).

I'm surprised none of them had the wherewithal to just walk up to her and ask to see her breasts. Because judging by the way Purity erotically rubbed her body against her large teddy bear, it's clear she doesn't have an aversion to sex. Nonetheless, after witnessing a seemingly unending number of attempts to unlock her prized knockers, an exalted air starts to form around her chest region. I mean, you begin to think to yourself: "I really want to see her nipples."

Which is weird when you consider the fact that you see Linda Shayne and Terrea Smith topless multiple times throughout the movie, and I consider them be the "major babes" of the film.

The biology teacher (Jan Taylor) who wears lingerie underneath her lab coat being next in line, babe-wise.

This unexpected allure is definitely an accidental testament to the makers of this extremely dumb movie. They may have the comedic sensibility of a couple of twelve year-olds with a serious glue sniffing problem, but they do know how to build up a pair of unobserved mammary glands. The odd sense of relief and misguided accomplishment one feels after the boys finally uncover their prize cannot be discounted; a sex comedy for the ages.

video uploaded by JUST FLOYD

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