‘Summer of 69’ Review: Jillian Bell’s Far-Fetched Feature Debut Pairs a Stripper With a High School Student

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In the summer of 1969, a sensitive, X-rated studio movie called “Midnight Cowboy” proved a box office surprise, upending norms when it won best picture at the Oscars. Flash forward to this year, and the screwball Stripperella comedy “Anora” unexpectedly repeated that coup, demonstrating once again that the industry is capable of looking beyond stereotypes where sex workers are concerned.

Now comes “Summer of 69,” a risqué coming-of-age movie that manages to be both retrograde and refreshing in its portrayal of an awkward Catholic school student (Sam Morelos) who hires an inspirational pole dancer (Chloe Fineman) to help boost her confidence in the “bedroom department.” It’s a throwback to decades of raunchy-sweet sex comedies, from “No Hard Feelings” to “The Girl Next Door,” while also being somewhat progressive in that this time, it’s a girl who’s taking charge.

The problem — and hardly an insignificant one — is that however funny comedian Jillian Bell’s directorial debut can be in the moment, none of it makes the slightest logical sense.

Abby Flores (Morelos) has had a crush on Max (Matt Cornett) for more than a decade, and now that he’s finally broken up with his longtime girlfriend, she sees her chance. Abby has it on good authority — assuming the advice-dispensing school mascot counts as such — that Max loves to 69, but Abby hasn’t so much as kissed a boy before. If she can master the yin-yang give and take of mutual oral satisfaction, Abby believes she can be his “ho fo’ sho’.”

Let’s take a brief pause to recognize that being able to do certain sexual acts isn’t typically a guaranteed way to find a romantic partner (it might be a requirement, but it’s never the key to success). Instead, sharing common interests and mutual attraction tend to play bigger roles, but Abby continues with her plan to master the athletic position regardless.

Instead of turning to porn — “…ography?” she asks, revealing her lack of exposure to that ubiquitous source of 21st-century sex ed — Abby goes to the local strip club. After sneaking past the bouncer, her underage mind is almost instantly blown by the sight of Santa Monica (Fineman). This zero-percent-bodyfat, 100-percent-confident woman commands the stage, drawing the attention of every guy in the room.

Abby has never seen such magnetism (which means, she’s probably never gone to a pep rally, since cheerleaders tend to have the same effect). Her solution: Call the washed-up owner of Diamond Dolls (good-sport support Paula Pell), pretending to be a man, and book an intimate at-home session with Santa Monica.

Call me naive, but I had no idea this was possible. How does Abby figure it out? As it happens, her parents are out of town for two weeks — exactly the same amount of time until the deeply indebted Diamond Dolls falls into the hands of Rick Richards (Charlie Day), a contender for sketchiest sleazeball in teen movie history. But if Santa Monica could raise $20,000, she could become co-owner of the club … and walk into her high school reunion with the pride of a local businesswoman.

Conveniently enough (in a contrivance-reliant screenplay that feels reverse-engineered from its joke title), Abby is such a successful live-streamer of video games on the Glitch network that with almost no hesitation, she agrees to pay Santa Monica $20K for a week’s worth of private make-me-sexy lessons. (This may also be naive, but if Abby has that much dough lying around, why not go straight to Max and make him an indecent proposal?)

You may have noticed, but there’s a recent trend in putatively romantic movies, such as Disney’s upcoming “Snow White” remake, of letting the liberated heroine go uncoupled in the end. Who needs a man to make you whole? If ever there was a movie where such a moral might be welcome, this is it — because who spends their entire college fund learning to please some dude?

“Summer of 69” was co-written by Bell, Liz Nico and Jules Byrne, and the novelty here is that it’s sexually inexperienced character doesn’t turn to a male hustler, like Joe Buck of “Midnight Cowboy,” but a fellow woman for guidance. And though these sessions include a handful of genuinely adult situations — including a visit to a sex shop where Bell works behind the counter and a harrowing house call — most of the interactions are about the unlikely friendship that emerges between a stripper and a high school student.

There’s not much connection to reality, but then, that’s par for the course in this genre, which has famously featured a perv sticking his body parts through a peephole into the girls’ locker room (“Porky’s”) and an inexperienced lad losing his virginity to a piping hot pastry (“American Pie”). What matters is the message, which is all about teaching teens that it’s up to them to decide when they’re ready for sex, and whether the movie is funny.

Bell can be very funny, aided by DP Maria Rusche (creating visual punchlines out of thin air) and editor Casey Brooks (who nails the timing). The helmer casts her debut with gifted comics who garnish even minor scenes with memorable gags — Abby’s feel-your-eyelid trick is a keeper. Her co-leads are especially strong, with “Saturday Night Live” celebrity impressions pro Fineman showing she’s ready for a film career, and Morelos very nearly pulling off the movie’s preposterous finale. It’s a big step backward from the likes of “Anora” in terms of respecting sex workers, but at least it scores as many laughs.

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2025-03-15 22:20