This prototypical '80s adolescent nookie farce combines both the "luckless dudes trying to score" and "older teacher instructs her student in the art of love" tropes, which should add up to twice the fun. Regrettably, My Tutor invests all its study time in a generous allotment of nudity and no time presenting characters or antics that are enjoyable enough to hold the viewer's interest in between the topless vignettes.
Lead Matt Lattanzi is the weakest thing in this movie, which is unfortunate because he appears in almost every scene of it. His ever-slouched bedroom eyes are ostensibly meant to convey sensitivity, but the guy just looks like he's about to fall asleep at any given moment (which he actually does in a brothel on top of a nude Kitten Natividad during the movie's first thwarted almost-got-some skit). His archetype is also the kind of chiseled-abbed mansion-dwelling high school socialite who ends up bedding half the cheerleading squad in real life, so the premise that he shares the same daunting struggle to shed his virginity as his two truly inept sidekicks is the most absurd element in a film that already has plenty of those.
Poor little rich boy Bobby's fortunes finally take a turn for the better upon the arrival of the live-in French tutor (?) his family hires to help him ace the test that will get him into Yale and make his father proud. It's not much of a leap to understand why a teen who lusts after nearly every other female character he encounters in the film would also quickly develop the hots for Caren Kaye's attractive and down to earth Terry, and the two eventually embark on an extended romantic staycation complete with Kama Sutra mishaps and shared bubble baths. This second half of the film is slightly more engaging than the opening salvo of lame coitus interruptus hijinks, unless your funny bone is tickled by the notion of seeing Crispin Glover strapped to a wheel of punishment by a dominatrix or watching Bobby get chased by a biker gang after unsuccessfully trying to complete a transaction with the leader's waitress girlfriend who turns tricks on her lunch break.
As if Bobby required more reasons to be insufferable, his histrionic reactions anytime a subplot is introduced to imbue the movie with conflicts suggest that he might be as psychotic as he is obnoxious. When Terry's caddish ex-boyfriend shows up to lure her back, Bobby not only pulls a gun on the louse, he actually fires it at him. And when he learns that the tutor being paid to help him pass his test receives a monetary bonus once he passes said test, he gets enraged and literally accuses her of being a hooker, which suggests that in silver-spoon Bobby's estimation having to work a job to earn money is equivalent to prostitution.
Naturally, Terry also instructs Bobby about life beyond her guest room sheets, so he ultimately gains the confidence to tell his dad he doesn't want to go to Yale, make some independent decisions about his future, and ask out the high school crush who's been in his heart all along. Then again, Bobby sucks, so you won't really care about any of this.
Kevin McCarthy doesn't get much time to shine as Bobby's domineering patriarch, but his presence is always welcome so at least that's one thing My Tutor has going for it. However, the best thing in this movie by far is Amber Denyse Austin, whose sporadic pop-ins as Bobby's alternate love interest are way too brief and underutilized. Austin is jaw-droppingly gorgeous here, and she radiates enough charisma to light up the screen whenever she's on it; it's frankly astonishing she didn't have a more substantial career, but if nothing else she certainly deserved to be spotlighted in a flick much better than this one.
Outside of its relatively high quotient of attractive disrobing, My Tutor is a subpar and undistinguished offering that does little to separate itself from a crowded pack of similar '80s romps. It does feature not one, but two aerobics montages, so nostalgia buffs will surely get their fill. But comedy buffs, or anyone just looking to have fun for a solid 90 minutes, will not.
Lead Matt Lattanzi is the weakest thing in this movie, which is unfortunate because he appears in almost every scene of it. His ever-slouched bedroom eyes are ostensibly meant to convey sensitivity, but the guy just looks like he's about to fall asleep at any given moment (which he actually does in a brothel on top of a nude Kitten Natividad during the movie's first thwarted almost-got-some skit). His archetype is also the kind of chiseled-abbed mansion-dwelling high school socialite who ends up bedding half the cheerleading squad in real life, so the premise that he shares the same daunting struggle to shed his virginity as his two truly inept sidekicks is the most absurd element in a film that already has plenty of those.
Poor little rich boy Bobby's fortunes finally take a turn for the better upon the arrival of the live-in French tutor (?) his family hires to help him ace the test that will get him into Yale and make his father proud. It's not much of a leap to understand why a teen who lusts after nearly every other female character he encounters in the film would also quickly develop the hots for Caren Kaye's attractive and down to earth Terry, and the two eventually embark on an extended romantic staycation complete with Kama Sutra mishaps and shared bubble baths. This second half of the film is slightly more engaging than the opening salvo of lame coitus interruptus hijinks, unless your funny bone is tickled by the notion of seeing Crispin Glover strapped to a wheel of punishment by a dominatrix or watching Bobby get chased by a biker gang after unsuccessfully trying to complete a transaction with the leader's waitress girlfriend who turns tricks on her lunch break.
As if Bobby required more reasons to be insufferable, his histrionic reactions anytime a subplot is introduced to imbue the movie with conflicts suggest that he might be as psychotic as he is obnoxious. When Terry's caddish ex-boyfriend shows up to lure her back, Bobby not only pulls a gun on the louse, he actually fires it at him. And when he learns that the tutor being paid to help him pass his test receives a monetary bonus once he passes said test, he gets enraged and literally accuses her of being a hooker, which suggests that in silver-spoon Bobby's estimation having to work a job to earn money is equivalent to prostitution.
Naturally, Terry also instructs Bobby about life beyond her guest room sheets, so he ultimately gains the confidence to tell his dad he doesn't want to go to Yale, make some independent decisions about his future, and ask out the high school crush who's been in his heart all along. Then again, Bobby sucks, so you won't really care about any of this.
Kevin McCarthy doesn't get much time to shine as Bobby's domineering patriarch, but his presence is always welcome so at least that's one thing My Tutor has going for it. However, the best thing in this movie by far is Amber Denyse Austin, whose sporadic pop-ins as Bobby's alternate love interest are way too brief and underutilized. Austin is jaw-droppingly gorgeous here, and she radiates enough charisma to light up the screen whenever she's on it; it's frankly astonishing she didn't have a more substantial career, but if nothing else she certainly deserved to be spotlighted in a flick much better than this one.
Outside of its relatively high quotient of attractive disrobing, My Tutor is a subpar and undistinguished offering that does little to separate itself from a crowded pack of similar '80s romps. It does feature not one, but two aerobics montages, so nostalgia buffs will surely get their fill. But comedy buffs, or anyone just looking to have fun for a solid 90 minutes, will not.