Guilty Pleasure No. 93: Porky’s (dir. by Bob Clark)

Posted on December 13, 2025 by Arleigh

Porky’s is one of those movies that plays very differently depending on when you first see it. On the surface, it is a loud, lewd early‑’80s teen sex comedy about a bunch of high‑school boys in 1950s Florida trying to get laid and get even, but underneath the pranks and bare flesh there are streaks of surprisingly serious material about prejudice, masculinity, and power. That mix of dopey laughs and darker undercurrents is exactly what makes the film interesting to talk about, and also what makes it so divisive today.

Set in the 1950s and released in 1981, Porky’s follows a tight‑knit group of teenage boys whose main goals in life are sex, sports, and practical jokes. Their adventures eventually take them to Porky’s, a sleazy backwater strip club run by the hulking, corrupt Porky, who humiliates them and sets up the revenge plot that drives the back half of the film. Around that spine, the story wanders through locker‑room banter, elaborate pranks, and various attempts to sneak into the girls’ showers or otherwise spy on naked bodies. It is very much a “horny boys on the prowl” narrative, and the film never pretends to be anything else.

What keeps it from being just another disposable sex comedy is the way some of those side stories hit harder than expected. One of the kids is brutally abused by his father, and the film doesn’t treat it like a throwaway detail; those scenes have a rawness and anger that clash with the goofy tone elsewhere. There is also a thread about anti‑Semitism and racism in their community, with one character confronting his own bigoted upbringing as he befriends a Jewish classmate and pushes back against the prejudice around him. That material is handled in a pretty straightforward, earnest way, which is jarring given how crude the surrounding humor can be, but it does show that writer‑director Bob Clark had more on his mind than dirty jokes.

The humor, for better or worse, is what most people remember. Porky’s leans heavily on slapstick and sex‑obsessed gag setups: peeping through holes in shower walls, mistaken identities during sex, ridiculous anatomical bragging, prank phone calls, and elaborate schemes that escalate into full‑on chaos. Some of the set pieces are staged with real comic timing, and if you’re on its wavelength, these sequences can still land as big, cathartic laughs. Others feel juvenile in the worst way, stretching one joke way past its breaking point, or punching down at easy targets rather than punching up at the hypocritical adults the boys are constantly butting up against.

Viewed from today’s lens, a big chunk of that humor is undeniably uncomfortable. The movie is saturated with sexist, homophobic, and racist language, and a few of the “pranks” involving the girls are essentially sexual harassment played for laughs. At the time, it was sold as a gleefully politically incorrect romp; now, those same scenes read as mean‑spirited or creepy in a way that undercuts the supposed lighthearted tone. The film occasionally tries to complicate this by giving some of the female characters sharper edges or letting them turn the tables, but it never fully escapes the fact that the camera is mostly aligned with the boys and their fantasies.

That said, Porky’s is not entirely dismissive of its women. There are moments where adult women, in particular, are allowed to call out the boys’ behavior or assert their own sexuality in ways that undercut the usual “conquest” narrative. The movie also makes a point of ridiculing hypocritical authority figures—teachers, coaches, cops, and parents—whose prudish public morals don’t match their private behavior. When Porky’s is skewering bigotry, religious hypocrisy, and small‑town moral panics, it feels sharper and more progressive than its reputation as a dumb “tits‑and‑ass” comedy suggests. Those flashes of insight are part of why some viewers argue that, beneath the sleaze, the film is quietly critical of the very attitudes it seems to indulge.

Performance‑wise, the cast is made up largely of unknowns who sell the illusion that this is a real, scrappy group of friends rather than polished Hollywood teens. The camaraderie feels genuine; their constant ribbing, in‑jokes, and shifting alliances are believable enough that you can see why the movie became a touchstone for a certain generation of viewers. Bob Clark’s direction is surprisingly controlled for such an anarchic script. He keeps the story moving, balances multiple subplots, and stages the bigger comic payoffs in a way that feels almost like a live‑action cartoon. The downside is that this slickness can make the nastier gags pop more, for better and worse.

On a technical level, Porky’s is very much a product of its time, but not a cheap one. The period detail—cars, music, clothing, diners, and dingy roadside bars—helps sell the 1950s setting, giving the film a nostalgic sheen that softens some of its rougher edges. The soundtrack leans on era‑appropriate rock and roll, which adds energy to the locker‑room and party scenes. The film also doesn’t shy away from male nudity, which was less common in comedies of the time and adds to its reputation as equal‑opportunity when it comes to what it exposes, even if the gaze is still clearly tilted toward ogling women.

Where Porky’s can stumble is in tone. The shifts between broad farce and serious drama can be abrupt. One minute you are watching a drawn‑out gag about a teacher trying to identify a student by his anatomy; the next, you are plunged into a grim confrontation with an abusive parent. That whiplash can pull you out of the movie, because the emotional weight of the dramatic scenes doesn’t always get enough breathing room before the script lurches back to naughty antics. As a result, some viewers feel the darker elements trivialize real issues, while others think those same scenes give the film more substance than its imitators.

Even if someone has never seen Porky’s, they have probably felt its influence. The film was a massive box‑office hit relative to its budget and paved the way for a wave of raunchy teen comedies through the ’80s and ’90s, eventually echoing into movies like American Pie and beyond. Its success made it clear that there was a huge audience for R‑rated, adolescent sex comedies that mixed crude jokes with a veneer of coming‑of‑age sentiment. You can see its blueprint in later films: packs of horny friends, elaborate revenge schemes, school authority figures as comic foils, and a big, raucous set piece as the payoff.

Whether Porky’s “holds up” is going to depend a lot on your tolerance for outdated attitudes and offensive language. If you go in expecting a cozy nostalgia trip, you may be surprised by how sour some jokes taste now, and how casually the film treats behavior that would be framed very differently in a modern story. If you approach it as both a time capsule and the prototype of a genre, it becomes easier to see its strengths—the lively ensemble, the willingness to poke at racism and hypocrisy, the low‑budget ingenuity in its set pieces—alongside its very real flaws.

Porky’s is neither the hidden gem some defenders make it out to be nor the irredeemable trash its harshest critics describe. It is a messy, uneven, often funny, often cringeworthy movie that captures a particular moment in pop culture, both in what it laughs at and what it takes for granted. If you are curious about the roots of modern raunchy teen comedies and prepared for the rough, politically incorrect ride, it is still worth a look as a piece of film history and as an example of how comedy ages—for better and for worse.

Previous Guilty Pleasures

Horror Film Review: The Old Ones (dir by Chad Ferrin)

Posted on October 15, 2025 by Lisa Marie Bowman

2024’s The Old Ones opens with an animated sequence of an old sea captain being tossed into a light, an apparent sacrifice. On the one hand, it’s properly macabre, featuring as it does a cult sacrifice. On the other hand, it’s also kind of cute because it’s animated. That juxtaposition between the horrific and the cute pretty much defines the entire film.

The sea captain is Russell Marsh (Robert Miano). He eventually washes up, 95 years after he left his home on a sea voyage. Russell is discovered by Dan (Scott Vogel) and his son, Gideon (Brandon Philip), who are camping and having some father-and-son bonding time. Russell tells them that he was born in 1865 and that he last set sail in 1930. Dan and Gideon point that’s not possible because it’s 2025 and Russell doesn’t appear to be a day over 65. Russell says that he’s spent the last 95 year being possessed and controlled by the Old Ones, the cosmic beings who control the universe. Dan is skeptical but then Dan is promptly killed by a monster who materializes out of nowhere. Russell and Gideon go on the run, trying to avoid cultists and others who have been possessed by the Old Ones. Russell says that, if he can find the mysterious Nylarlahotep, he may be able to travel through time and stop himself from going to sea in 1930. Russell would never be possessed by the Old Ones and, in theory, Gideon’s father would never had died.

The Old Ones is “based on the writings of H.P. Lovecraft” and it should be noted that the film does contain references to a lot of Lovecraft’s stories. Nylarlahotep (played here by Rico E. Anderson) is a character straight out of Lovecraft and his behavior here — menacing and enigmatic, if slightly bemused by the foolishness of humanity — very much conforms to Lovecraft’s portrayal of him. The Old Ones will be familiar to anyone with even a passing knowledge of the Cthulhu Mythos. That said, the film itself doesn’t always feel particularly Lovecraftian, if just because of the amount of humor that is found during Russell and Gideon’s quest. Gideon is often in a state of shock while Russell is the one who has seen it all and faces every horror with a studied nonchalance.

(One of the film’s best moments is when Russell pragmatically suggests that Gideon should sacrifice himself since Russell is just going to reverse time anyways.)

Considering that the budget was obviously low and that the writings of H.P. Lovecraft are notoriously difficult to adapt, The Old Ones works far better than I certainly expected it to. The story moves quickly and even the humor adds to the overall feel of the chaotic energy of the Old Ones invading human existence. The strongest thing about the film is the performance as Robert Miano as Russell Marsh. As played by Miano, Russell is the perfect hero for this type of story, compassionate but also pragmatic enough not to shed any tears if someone happens to die on Russell’s way to reversing time. Even if the humor may not reflect the source material, the film still ends on a very Lovecraftian note. One person’s happy ending is another’s nightmare.

The TSL Horror Grindhouse: Dance of the Damned (dir by Katt Shea)

Posted on October 9, 2025 by Lisa Marie Bowman

In 1989’s Dance of the Damned, Cyril O’Reilly plays a vampire with a sensitive side.

The Vampire is out on his nightly prowl. He goes to a strip club where he finds himself drawn to a dancer named Jodi (Starr Andreef). The Vampire is drawn to Jodi because Jodi is thinking of committing suicide. It’s her son’s birthday and the boy’s father refuses to even let her see him. The Vampire approached Jodi and says the wants to talk to her because he hasn’t talked to anyone in a long time. He offers to pay Jodi one thousand dollars if she’ll come back to his house and have a conversation with him.

Because the Vampire doesn’t drive, they take a city bus back to his place. While sitting on the bus, they are harassed by two wannabe punks. The Vampire pierces one of their eyes with the stem of a rose. Oddly, Jodi barely notices.

At the house, the Vampire reveals his fangs and explains that he rarely feasts but tonight is one of those nights when he does. He says that he picked Jodi because he could sense her loneliness and could tell that she wanted to die. He also explains that, contrary to the vampire mythology, Jodi will not turn into a vampire after he drinks her blood. Instead, she’ll just die. Jodi’s response is to shoot the Vampire several times. The bullets fall off of his body.

Jodi and the Vampire end up talking. In fact, Dance of the Damned often feels more like a one-act play than a traditional vampire film. Both Jodi and the Vampire are lonely and they discuss what its like to feel like they have nothing in the world. The Vampire cannot exist in the daylight and, as a stripper, Jodi’s life is centered around the night as well. When Jodi learns that the Vampire has never been to the beach because he never felt like there was much point in going during the night, Jodi insists that they go immediately. The Vampire discovers what sand feels like. He struggles to walk on it which was kind of weird but whatever. At least the movie was trying to do something different!

The main theme of the film is that both the Vampire and Jodi are outsiders. The Vampire was born a vampire and has no idea what it’s like to be a mortal being that can safely walk around in the daylight. Because he has scars from a childhood incident with the humans, even the Vampire’s own people have rejected him. Jodi, meanwhile, has been rejected by conventional society because she’s a stripper and now, she can’t even see her own child. They are two outsiders who are linked together by their feelings of being lost. Over the course of the night, they fall in love but it’s obvious that only one will still be around the next night and it’s also fairly obvious which one it will be.

I liked Dance of the Damned, though I imagine that it might be too talky for a lot of fans of the horror genre. It’s more of a dual character study than a traditional vampire film. Just as she did with films like Poison Ivy and The Rage: Carrie 2, director Katt Shea uses the horror genre as a way to explore the pressure that society puts on women to act, look, and dress a certain way. Shea’s direction is moody and atmospheric and she gets an excellent performance from Starr Andreef. Dance of the Damned is not a film for everyone but for those who are looking for a little emotional honesty to go along with their horror, it’s an intriguing film.

Porky’s II: The Next Day (1983, directed by Bob Clark)

Posted on November 4, 2020 by Jedadiah Leland

The teens of Angel Beach, Florida are back! They’re still trying to get laid, they’re still playing pranks on each other, and, this time, they’re …. FIGHTING THE KLAN!?

Porky’s II continues with the first Porky’s mix of raunchiness and social commentary. While Pee Wee (Dan Monahan) tries to get back at his friends for spending the whole previous movie making fun of the size of his dick, the other members of the large ensemble cast thwart an attempt by the Klan to keep them from putting on a Shakespearean showcase. The Klan is upset that a Seminole has been cast as Romeo so they burn a cross and do everything they can to sabotage the production. Also trying to keep the show from going on is the hypocritical Rev. Bubba Flavel (Bill Wiley) and Mrs. Balbricker (Nancy Parsons), who both consider Shakespeare’s plays to be obscene. When Wendy (Kaki Hunter) discovers that one of the county commissioners has been lying about supporting the play, she humiliates him in public by pretending to vomit in a fountain and accusing him of impregnating her. It’s slightly funnier than it sounds but just slightly.

The first Porky’s took a stand against anti-Semitism while the second Porky’s takes a stand against censorship and the Klan. That’s actually pretty cool when you consider that both of these films are usually just thought of as being dumb sex comedies. Just like the first film, Porky’s II may be raunchy but it has a conscience. That was due to director Bob Clark, who obviously meant for the Porky’s films to be about more than just T&A.

Unfortunately, Porky’s II is never as funny as the first Porky’s. Too many of the jokes are recycled from the first film and the cast’s habit of laughing at their own “humorous” lines is even more grating the second time around. Even the film’s most famous scene, where Wendy humiliates the duplicitous commissioner, goes on for too long and doesn’t have as much of a payoff as it should. The best scenes in the film are the scenes that were lifted from Hamlet, Romero & Juliet, and A Midsummer Night’s Dream. You wouldn’t expect the ensemble of Porky’s to feature that many Shakespearean actors but apparently it did. Fans of A Christmas Story, which was also directed by Clark and which came out the same year as Porky’s II, will especially want to pay attention to the MacBeth sword fight scene just because the famous holiday leg lamp makes an appearance.

Porky’s II is nowhere near as good or memorable as the first Porky’s but its heart is in the right place. While not as big of a success as the first Porky’s, it still did well enough to lead to Porky’s III, which I’ll review tomorrow.

Porky’s (1981, directed by Bob Clark)

Posted on November 3, 2020 by Jedadiah Leland

Porky’s.

On the one hand, it’s a crude, juvenile, and raunchy sex comedy where a bunch of teenagers in 1960s Florida think that it’s a hoot and not at all problematic to spy on the girls shower and to hire a black man to scare all of their (white) friends.

On the other hand, it’s a heartfelt plea for tolerance where Tim (Cyril O’Reilly) finally stands up to his abusive father (Wayne Maunder) and makes friends with Brian Schwartz (Scott Colomby), who is apparently the only Jewish person living in Angel Beach, Florida.

What’s strange about Porky’s is that everyone knows it for being the template for almost every bad high school film that followed, with tons of nudity, jokes about sex, and characters with names like Pee Wee, Miss Honeywell, Cherry Forever, and Porky. But, when you sit down and watch the movie, you discover that, for all the raunchiness, it actually devotes even more time to Brian Schwartz dealing with the local bigots than it does to any of the things that it’s known for. Everyone remembers the shower scene but it’s obvious the film’s heart is with Brian and his attempts to make the world a better place. Porky’s is a sex comedy with a conscience.

Porky’s is an episodic film about a group of teenage boys trying to get laid and also trying to get revenge on the owner of the local brothel. There’s a lot of characters but I’d dare anyone to tell me the difference between Billy, Tommy, and Mickey. I went through the entire movie thinking that Billy was Mickey until I turned on the subtitles and discovered who was who. Porky’s has a reputation for being a terrible movie but it’s actually a pretty accurate depiction of the way that most men like to imagine how their high school years went. It captures the atmosphere of good-spirited teenage hijinks if not the reality.

One of the interesting things about Porky’s is that Bob Clark went from directing this to directing A Christmas Story. The innocence of A Christmas Story might seem like it has nothing in common with raunchiness of Porky’s but, actually, they’re both nostalgic films that are set in an idealized past. (If you still think A Christmas Story has nothing in common with Porky’s, just remember that Ralphie didn’t actually say “fudge.”) Of course, A Christmas Story struggled at the box office and only became a hit when it was released on video while Porky’s is still the most successful Canadian film to ever be released in the U.S. Sex sells. As cool as it was to see Brian Schwartz stand up for himself, I doubt the people who made Porky’s a monster hit were buying their tickets because they had heard the film struck a blow against anti-Semitism. They were going because they knew there was a shower scene.

Porky’s deserves its reputation for being a not-so great movie but I would be lying if I said that I didn’t laugh more than once while watching it. (Of course, I still didn’t laugh as much as the characters in the films laughed. I’ve never seen a cast that was as apparently amused with themselves as the cast of Porky’s.) There’s a lot of bad moments but it’s hard not to crack a smile when Miss Honeywell demonstrates why she’s known as Lassie or when one of the coaches suggests that wanted posters can be hung around the school to help catch the shower voyeur. Plus, everyone learns an important lesson about tolerance and how to destroy a brothel. As bad as it is, it’s hard to really dislike Porky’s.