The Last American Virgin

A near shot-for-shot remake of his cult Israeli coming-of-ager, Boaz Davidson’s The Last American Virgin is less a movie, more a succession of skits set to a great New Wave soundtrack (which often proves hilariously inappropriate – an abortion scene is inexplicably scored by U2’s I Will Follow). The thin plot revolves around three horny high school archetypes (the handsome ladies' man, the fat goofball and the good guy) as they chase tail and get laid. Despite its sleazy premise, the film’s vibe is closer to the warm bonhomie of, say, Meatballs than the hateful vulgarity of Porky’s.

But just when you settle into the predictable saucy shenanigans, things take a left-field turn towards the melancholic. Perhaps a downbeat ending wasn’t too unusual back in 1982 – American cinema was still coming off the back of a decade's worth of coal-black denouements. But today, post John Hughes and Cameron Crowe, who between them set the complacent formula for teen-movie fairy tales, it’s a refreshing punch to the gut. [Jamie Dunn]

Trailer – The Last American Virgin

The Last American Virgin – The Arrow Story