Originally intended by Hollywood to star Cyndi Lauper and Dan Aykroyd, the feature film Vibes instead stars Cyndi Lauper and Jeff Goldblum. While both Aykroyd and Goldblum are the quintessential movie nerds, each would have played the character of Nick Deezy very differently, with Goldblum’s being the perfect blend of lost and delirious that the movie needed.

Aykroyd, on the other spectral hand, made a date with The Couch Trip instead.

After meeting in a New York University study on parapsychology — I think — psychics Nick and Sylvia (Lauper) become engrossed in the seemingly drunk Harry (Peter Falk) and his tall tales of mental riches in South America. But with Nick’s memory of objects and Sylvia’s ghost-whispering, they find out it’s just some get-rich-quick scheme, all the while somehow falling in love. Somehow.

Aykroyd, on the other spectral hand, made a date with The Great Outdoors instead.

Once Nick and Sylvia, along with Harry, make it to Ecuador, so does a weird, chubby German guy with a real name made out of baby words I will not type here. As he tries various ways to assassinate them, including a strange sexual imposition from seductress Elizabeth Peña, it turns out to be a plot by an NYU professor (Julian Sands).

Aykroyd, on the other spectral hand, made a date with Caddyshack II instead.

Directed with a heavy hand and a birdbrain toward the weird by Ken Kwapis as his follow-up to Sesame Street Presents: Follow That Bird, this film is most famous as Lauper’s bid for silver-screen stardom crashed and burned; maybe a better film would be how being in such a mediocre movie would trap her on an Trivial Pursuit: Totally 80s card.

Aykroyd, on the other spectral hand, made a date with My Stepmother Is an Alien instead. —Louis Fowler

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Hoping to follow AIP’s Beach Party to a box-office bonanza, Warner Bros. made its own film following that hit’s formula with one glaring exception: setting it nowhere near a beach. In fact, Palm Springs Weekend posits that each Easter weekend, horny college students from Los Angeles would rather flock to the California desert county for “sex, sand and suds.” Technically speaking, viewers get one out of the three.

That Scorchy Connie Stevens takes second billing as Gayle, an 18-year-old posing as 21. Vying for her affections are rich asshole Eric (Robert Conrad, then fresh from TV’s Hawaiian Eye with Stevens) and Texas good ol’ boy Stretch (Ty Hardin, 1967’s Berserk). Also converging at the same hotel — at which no one has reservations — is L.A.’s top collegiate basketball team, including a lemon-faced, banjo-strumming goofball named Biff (Jerry Van Dyke, TV’s Coach) and a future doctor (Phantom Gunslinger Troy Donahue) who takes kindly to the local chief of police’s daughter, Bunny (a brunette Stefanie Powers, Die! Die! My Darling!).

Directed by Sergeant Dead Head’s Norman Taurog, Palm Springs Weekend packs itself with so many people and so many storylines, it fails to give accurate time to let any of them play out to a point we recognize as “plot.” And that’s okay, because it’s a helluva good time. When your big set piece is Biff accidentally spilling a bottle of detergent into the hotel pool (fulfilling the promise of “suds”), your movie isn’t aiming any higher than the funny bone. In that aspect, the Technicolor fantasy succeeds in matching the genial Beach Party — and we do mean “genial,” not “genital,” as Connie copies Annette by being wound Timex-tight.

But wait — there’s more! Among the mugging, pratfalling fray are an uncredited Linda Gray, Dawn Wells, Bugs Bunny and future Tarzan Mike Henry; a pre-Lost in Space Billy Mumy as a 9-year-old from hell; the great character actor Jack Weston (Fuzz) as the team’s coach; a casino-gigging Modern Folk Quartet singing its big hit (?) about an ox driver; and a bespectacled young man (Mark Dempsey, Valley of the Dragons) who hiccups every time he thinks about sex. If any character does the deed over the Weekend, it’s not apparent. However, with a smile and a wink, Bunny’s cop father (Andrew Duggan, In Like Flint) does insulate he was quite the date rapist in his day. —Rod Lott

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I saw more flicks on cable in the ’80s than anywhere else, especially on HBO. One of those movies happened to be The Heavenly Kid, a twice-a-day film, typically catching it both in the late morning and early evening. I was that way with a lot of movies, mind you, but this one was, for the most part, different.

Sure, it had the sex and drugs and all that, but it also had an early-’60s juvenile delinquent named Bobby (Lewis Smith) who, after a dragstrip race gone bad, comes back to earth to help a kid named Lenny (Jason Gedrick) become a world-class chick-scorer; he’s doing this all in the name of getting to “Uptown,” by the way.

But while Lenny is becoming the teen king — or, at least, the teen prince — of cool, Bobby learns that not only is Lenny his son, but Bobby has to grow up and, figuratively, become a man so his son will live to fight another day. When I was a kid myself, I thought that that was a neat little riff, but all grown up now, I can kind of see what director and writer Cary Medoway was trying to say.

I mean, sure, it was in a teen sex comedy, but there’s a lesson about maturity somewhere in there, I promise.

At the time of release, right after he appeared in the anachronistic sci-fi flick Buckaroo Banzai, Smith was poised to be a big name, only to star in the TV-movie version of David Bowie’s The Man Who Fell to Earth before fading into semi-obscurity. It’s kind of a shame, really, because he could’ve been a big star. At least I think so.

Instead, Gedrick, Jane Kaczmarek, Richard Mulligan and future starlet Nancy Valen — whom you may remember in infomercials for the Thigh Roller, Thin ’n Sexy Body Wrap and Kevin Trudeau’s Debt Cures “They” Don’t Want You to Know About — seemed to have any career. But, in the ’80s, this heavenly kid thought Smith was as cool as cool got, with this movie being an absolute revelation. —Louis Fowler

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With its title based on the popular ’70s catchphrase, you’d think a flick called Kiss My Grits would be a cornpone comedy about a hash-slinging waitress who goes on the sexy run from a corrupt Texas County ranger, with plenty of car chases, car wrecks and car-fornication in a scant 80-minute runtime.

In reality, however, it’s a wholly unlikable drama — it claims comedy, but I don’t believe it — about redneck parolee Dolin (Bruce Davison … what?), a love-’em-and-leave-’em sheep wrangler about to be sent back to Huntsville Penitentiary for three years, presumably for the film’s opening watermelon heist; it’s all a bit unclear.

When he meets gangster moll Baby (Susan George with an over-the-top Texas drawl), they plan to rob her good ol’ boy mafia lover Karkas (Anthony Franciosa, taking a paycheck), whose repulsive, Elvis-coiffed chauffeur calls dogs “faggots.” They drug Karkas, steal his dough and Dolin’s brother, Flash (Bruno Kirby … what?), takes down the sheriff.

Dolin also has a precocious son named Boots (Andre Gower, The Monster Squad) who has a robot best friend named Iron Man, but trust me, he’s not Iron Man. It’s some toy from a bootleg Toys ’R Us that cost $82.50. The price is said numerous times.

Barely directed by Jack Starrett, to be fair, as I said before, this film is labeled as a comedy, but instead of leaving me laughing, I’m left reasonably depressed. I kind of expected more rural action from the director of Race with the Devil and Final Chapter: Walking Tall, but instead got this.

Oh, well, I guess it’s a good way to kill an hour and 41 minutes if you’ve got the time. I really don’t. —Louis Fowler

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In 1971, Indigenous people cheered as the half-Native superhero Billy Jack womped whitey across the face with his bare foot. But, sadly, it was over a decade until we were given another group of cinematic heroes, this time in the form of the horny teens of Porky’s II: The Next Day.

That’s right: Porky’s II: The Next Day.

Whereas the original is a veritable cum-storm of sex jokes, sex pranks and sex gags, writer and director Bob Clark decided that, the next day, these turned-on teens should get educated on the non-erect real world by introducing religious hypocrisy, political lies and racial discrimination to their lustful lives. And, like morning wood, it actually works.

After a long night of destruction and demolition to Porky’s swamp-water roadhouse, the lovable louts return to Angel Beach High School to — what else? — join the drama club’s production of various Shakespearian works. This garners the attention of a fire-and-brimstone preacher who considers the Bard a sinful sonuvabitch.

Soon enough, the Ku Klux Klan gets their pointy hats involved when they find out that, in a recreation of Romeo and Juliet’s famed balcony scene, the movement’s Montague will be played by John Henry (Joseph Runningfox), a full-blooded Seminole. One night, these white supremacists beat him bad, as well as fire up a cross to add insult to injury.

While they’re dealing with the religious zealots — oh, yeah, and a scheming politico who attempts to make it with a 16-year-old girl — the lascivious lot manage to capture the Klan and, with the help of the entire Seminole tribe, strip the xenophobes and shave their heads before parading them nude in front of the preacher’s anti-Shakespeare rally in front of the school.

What’s so remarkable about all this is how respectful the Seminole people are depicted onscreen in a lesser-known sequel to a notorious sex comedy, more realistically than possibly any social-justice film of the era. While the strip-and-shave scenario is, of course, thought up by the young masturbators, the way the Indigenous community stands behind Henry is remarkable, as well as the fact Clark cast real Natives for the numerous background roles.

But if you’re a racist and like dated wanking material, don’t worry; this sex-filled sequel is still packed with pervy pranks like a hot-to-trot graveyard girl, a snake directed straight toward Ms. Balbricker’s vagina and a randy sexpot who inexplicably vomits from her bouncy boobs in a fancy nightclub. —Louis Fowler

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