“We must! We must! We must develop our bust! The bigger, the better! The tighter the sweater! The boys depends on us!”
Screwballs, 1983 (Linda Shayne), Millennium
If I’m not mistaken, the original plan of my Vintage Cable Box series was to start with the quintessential teen sex comedy, Porky’s. Wes Craven’s passing the day before I started this enormous collection of essays forced me to put out Swamp Thing in tribute to a filmmaker I deeply respected. Screwballs heralds from this vast apocalyptic teenage wasteland of sex comedies, but with comparatively less respect and made with a lot less “sophistication.” If there is one item of ’80s movies I’ve always found curious, it was the retro-’50s look, feel, and sound, and Screwballs, which seems to be a period comedy of that time, has plenty of that attitude (perhaps because the filmmakers grew up in that time).
We’re privy to several “case files” of teenagers (dirty little boys) who got caught in comprising situations and are then forced into detention. One kid (“kid” is stretching it because they all look like they’re in their late twenties) tries to play doctor with a bunch of girls in the infirmary. Another kid is caught masturbating in the toilet. Another kid likes to look up the cheerleaders’ skirts. It’s not like we get a quasi-Breakfast Club set-up. They’re a bunch of wankers and they seriously belong in detention, but the name of their high school is called Taft & Adams (or T & A for short, heh) so you can’t be too hard on them.
Taft & Adams is an institute of torture for young men. The girls are gorgeous. They have big breasts, long legs, and short skirts. They all speak in increasingly suggestive tones and double, triple, and quadruple entendre (if there are such things). The four boys placed in detention (for fi-fi-fi-five days, according to a stuttering secretary) all share one common character trait: they want to get laid, and their object of desire is allegedly the most beautiful girl in the school, Purity Bush. Is that her Christian name?
Screwballs is a series of embarrassing sexual episodes (with only the narrative thread of Purity Bush connecting anything together) ranging from the creepy upskirt surveys to girls thrusting asses in our faces to throbbing male erections under desks. It is similar to Porky’s but with less care or consideration for their characters. There is an interesting juxtaposition between a fight breaking out at a drive-in and the Pam Grier movie the kids are watching: The Arena, which depects a gladiator revolt. The movie is surprisingly tame. I don’t even think we see our first bare breasts until 40 minutes in – what a rip-off! Anyway, if I understand the story correctly, the whole mad affair revolves around a strip bowling tournament. Really? Bowling and teen sex?
After the “competition” (which results in another embarrassing sexual misadventure involving a bowling ball and a penis – you figure it out), we finish up what passes for a teen sex comedy with a trip to the local titty bar (uh-huh!) and a slow-motion shot of Purity Bush diving into a hot sausage with a knife and fork. We do finally get to see her boobs, but they’re not that great. Yep. That’s pretty much it. Now you don’t have to see the movie. You’re welcome!
Wow! According to calculations, this is my 100th official entry for Vintage Cable Box. It’s been a long, strange, crazy trip hasn’t it? Again, you’re welcome!
Sourced from the original 1984 Warner Bros “clamshell” VHS release. The movie continued to receive different format releases, and is available in Beta, DVD, and Blu Ray formats. As far as I can determine, it only received a laserdisc release in Hong Kong. The poorly-worded, bizarrely-constructed accompanying essay only perfunctorily addresses the narrative, and takes up a paragraph praising Roger Corman (through his later connection with writer Jim Wynorski). As far as I can tell, Corman had nothing to do with the making of Screwballs. The writer of the essay calls the four male leads the “Screwballs” – “Even in their quieter moments like during study hall or while relaxing, you’ll have to see to believe how the Screwballs manage to bring a new and incredible meaning to the expression “Gross me out!”
Our first cable box was a non-descript metal contraption with a rotary dial and unlimited potential (with no brand name – weird). We flipped it on, and the first thing we noticed was that the reception was crystal-clear; no ghosting, no snow, no fuzzy images. We had the premium package: HBO, Cinemax, The Movie Channel, MTV, Nickelodeon, CNN, The Disney Channel, and the local network affiliates. About $25-$30 a month. Each week (and sometimes twice a week!), “Vintage Cable Box” explores the wonderful world of premium Cable TV of the early eighties.