Boners on the dancefloor. Sex in the headmistress’ office. Bareback horse riding. This 1983 sex romp is exactly what you think it is; perhaps, a bit better. In fact, Private School really has no right to be this entertaining. Impaired with regular sex-comedy antics and cheap nudity, a shame to some, but others an unabashedly joy to watch, the film is layer upon layer of carnal males seeking the bareness of women at Cherryvale Academy for Girls; its one antic after the other, deprived of real interactions, and the women just so happen to fall for this. Amidst all this horny stature is a couple’s romance which possibly is the only thing out of place.
Hell, its entertaining to a certain degree. There’s no clear plot or abrasive dilemma for main girl Phoebe Cates; in fact, she was hardly memorable thanks to her limited development on screen. At times Private School is a pretty peep show; Betsy Russell is a tease in the best way possible, she’s there to show off her assets and the film really goes for it. The way the men react is outrageous; basically it’s like looking at cavemen.
Its third act may fall into a tedious slump, but overall I was genuinely entertained and surprised by Private School. Just don’t expect anything remotely serious. Its trite, sleazy fun and worth a dive.