DO WE NEED TO DISCUSS JOYSTICKS IN 2020?

The year is 1983, and the crest of the ‘teen sex comedy’ wave towers over Hollywood. A confluence of factors created the ‘perfect storm’ for the genre - Porky’s, a likably smutty, ‘50s-set B-movie about a bunch of bros trying to get their dweeby friend laid, had been a sleeper hit in 1981; the influence (and hormones) of the teenage demographic dominated the box-office like never before; and, the booming VHS revolution meant that video recorders all over the world needed sellable content that was fast to produce.

It was from within this cauldron of coincidence that Joysticks emerged; an otherwise unremarkable film that can now be held aloft as a prime example of the low-IQ, high-energy, T&A-obsessed ‘80s teen romp. Directed by actor-turned-director Greydon Clark, a gentleman who ably helmed such romps as Satan’s Cheerleaders (1977) and Wacko (1982), Joysticks is soft-headed exploitation cinema very much of its time.

Clark and his three(!) scriptwriters tap the video game mania of the day, setting their loose narrative in ‘Jeff’s’, an oddly-cubic arcade parlour. Nerdy nebbish Eugene (Leif Green) is on his way to his first day of his arcade career when two sorority pledges, Lola (Kym Malin) and Alva (Kim G. Michel), coax him into their convertible with a nipple flash and the promise of a public threesome. What they really want is a humiliating photo of him, then it’s off to the parlour, where the girls can up the ante for some real self-serving flirting while Eugene dodges cool kids in search of his pants. (Above, from left: Scott McGinnis, Leif Green, Jim Greenleaf)

Clearly, everything about this opening scene is untenable to 2020 sensibilities; perhaps, aside from the teen males in line on opening weekend (Joysticks would earn a not-insignificant US$4million domestically), it was also untenable to 1983 sensibilities. But it was the kind of set-up that routinely kicked-off films with such titles as Screwballs (1983), Spring Break (1983), Hot Moves (1984), Hot Dog: The Movie (1984), Loose Screws (1985) and Fraternity Vacation (1985). 

Clark largely abandons Eugene’s plight, focussing alternatively on arcade owner/hunky stud Jeff (Scott McGinnis), fat slob McDorfus (Jim Greenleaf), and a leather-clad punk/nerd hybrid called King Vidiot (Jim Gries). The plot takes some kind of shape when conservative blowhard Joe Rutter (Joe Don Baker, repping the old establishment just as John Vernon did in Animal House and Ted Knight did in Caddyshack) threatens to close down ‘Jeff’s’, abetted by his dumb goons, Arnie (the great John Diehl) and Max (John Volstad) and much to the bemusement of his free-spirited daughter, Patsy (Corinne Bohrer, stealing all her scenes) . (Pictured, above: from left, Volstad, Baker and Diehl)

Which all sounds likably goofy and instantly dismissable, which it is. When not pandering to its pervy base, Joysticks offers some fun slapstick and the odd zinger in its dialogue. But there are signposts along the way that won’t sit well with 2020 viewers, whether it is the enlightened teens of today or the aged teens of 1983 (i.e., me). Revisiting Joysticks a whopping 37 years* after its release is to reconsider the worth of the 1980s teen sex comedies in their entirety. 

In arguably the film’s most distasteful moment, McDorfus forcibly encourages Eugene to lose his virginity to a dozing Mrs Rutter (Morgan Lofting), the middle-aged woman heavily sedated on sleeping pills. She stirs and, while still drowsy, believes it to be her husband initiating a bout of rare marital bliss. The heinous implication is that she is responding positively to Eugene’s awkward and accidental groping. The ‘randy dowager’ trope was a popular one back in the ‘80s (see the aforementioned Caddyshack).

Another entirely unnecessary sequence involves Lola and Alva playing Pac-Man...topless. Gratuitous nudity was a teen sex comedy staple, of course, but rarely was it so devoid of context or absence of reasoning. Unsurprisingly, Kym Malin, aka ‘Nola’, had been the May 1982 Playboy Playmate of the Month - the casting of nude models (see Lillian Müller, Shannon Tweed, Teri Weigel) a ploy used to ensure some degree of celebrity and a willingness to disrobe were addressed in the casting. (Trivia: Malin was later cast as one of the Nakatomi Plaza hostages in Die Hard). (Pictured, above: Jonathan Gries as King Vidiot, with Baker)

So, finally, does Joysticks and its ilk have any worth at all twenty years into the new millenium? Are they snapshots that provide insight into the teens of the time and the adults of today? Or lurid, sordid examples of artless exploitation, best condemned to time-capsule history? Are they any more than crassly commercial relics, conjuring sickening images of producers slavering over ambitious starlets being coerced into disrobing? Or, are they a legitimately expressive ‘artform’ that understood and spoke to an audience cross-section, eager for validation?

Teen sex comedies ran the gamut at the height of their popularity, and most have been reassessed with a new understanding of what is acceptable on-screen in the name of laughs. That reassessment works both ways; Paul Brickman’s Risky Business (1983) is a teen sex comedy now considered one the decade’s best films. Of course, giggly, smutty hijinks like those in Joysticks, once considered harmless, are now frowned upon, although it would be wrong, even pointless, to flay it at the altar of moralistic hindsight. (Pictured, above: Corinne Bohrer, as Patsy)

Instead, they should be seen as movie history artefacts, from a time when films began to give voice and vision to how teenagers interpret sexuality. Sometimes, that was (and still is) ugly and childish and offensive. But it wasn’t generally mean. Even in films like Joysticks, films in which the ‘Mrs Rutters’ have to endure the inexcusable, the message is ultimately a moral one - friendships are tight, common bonds form and grotesque old capitalists are defeated. That has relevance in 2020, when striving to understanding the truths that lie beneath so much ugliness is more important than ever.

* Regarding the passage of time and society’s shifting moral compass - films that came 37 years before Greydon Clark’s Joysticks include Frank Capra’s It’s A Wonderful Life, John Ford’s My Darling Clementine and, ahem, Disney’s Song of the South.

Read Greydon Clark's autobiography ON THE CHEAP: MY LIFE IN LOW BUDGET FILMMAKING, available from his official website.