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It preoccupies the four teen-aged boys whose raucous and often raunchy exploits are humorously observed in American Pie. Breathing and eating are probably very distant second and third priorities for Jim, Kevin, Oz and Finch, desperate young men in search of the tauntingly elusive path to manhood.
A blatantly derivative but nonetheless buoyant coming of age gambol, director Paul Weitz's down and dirty odyssey through the smirky catacombs of adolescent sexuality is wrapped in the new vulgar-chic that the trailblazing There's Something About Mary made borderline acceptable at the multiplex. But beware! While this is the junior version of that film, it is no less risqué and certainly more exploitative. Yet there is a curiously inherent quality of good-naturedness to American Pie, and it prevails; as matters bawdily unfold and the movie's would-be Casanovas are hilariously shown for the sexually naive bumblers that they are, the rite-of-passage aspects of the tale winsomely supplant its naughty quotient. In short, it's not what they do, but how awkwardly they try to do it that makes American Pie so rollickingly engaging.
Contemporised here to include a steady flow of obscenities and a smattering of semi-nudity, you might call this "Andy Hardy Learns The Facts Of Life," the R-rated version. For it belongs to a genre with a heritage dating back to the 1930s, even before its thrill-questing pre-adults were dubbed teenagers. Thus borrowing from several classic examples in the dustbin, filmmaker Weitz incorporates a soupcon of soul-searching from The Breakfast Club, a smidgen of sliminess from Porky's, and a mini-lesson on life's timeless inevitabilities from American Graffiti. But the coup de grace is a comically satisfying paean to The Graduate that merrily ties in with the movie's sense of irony, Simon and Garfunkel's Mrs. Robinson shamelessly playing in the background. For Boomers and beyond (if they somehow find themselves in a theatre showing this film), a tear of nostalgia might be understandable here.
Sworn to conclude their virginal days no later than prom night, a gaggle of somewhat familiar, neo-Brat Pack stereotypes are played by a solid ensemble of young actors making a passage of their own; to starring roles. Zaniest among the 17-year-old hopefuls is self-deprecating Jim (Jason Biggs, delivering his lines with the distinctive patter of a stand-up comic), easily the least likely to succeed. Entirely flummoxed by the peer-imposed mission to the sexual major leagues, Jim's ineptitude with the fairer sex becomes legend when his foiled attempt at romantic conquest with an East European exchange student (Shannon Elizabeth as Nadia) is mistakenly broadcast to their entire Midwestern community over the Internet.
Oz (Chris Klein), on the other hand, a handsome lacrosse player, seems a shoe-in for success. But guess again. His original plan dashed, the jock uncharacteristically tries out his vocal chords in the school choir whilst exploring the possibility of amour with straight-laced Heather (Mena Suvari).
And then there's Kevin (Thomas Ian Nicholas), certainly an odds-on favourite to win masculine bragging rights. He's the only one who has a steady gal. Trouble is, girlfriend Vicki (Tara Reid), who will be attending classes at a college far from where Kevin will be matriculating come September, finds herself torn between love and pragmatism (Oh, these adult decisions). Not knowing that boyfriend secretly confides in and seeks advice to the sexlorn from her best pal, Jessica (Natasha Lyonne), betwixt and between Vicki does the same. An experienced veteran of the teen war between the sexes, with "Been There....Done That" seemingly stencilled across her forehead, jaded Jessica acerbically reminisces that once upon a time she was "duped out of her virginity." Oddly, the sarcastic go-between's advice is generally sound.
Rounding out the lustfully quixotic quartet is Finch (Eddie Kaye Thomas), the sartorially conservative fop and resident brain of the group (no band of friends should be without one). Of course, he tries the intellectual approach, and not without some rather amusing results. Naturally, it behoves someone of his cosmopolitan demeanour to suffer at the dirty hands of the movie's one really big potty joke. It is one too many, though the scatological set will probably be delighted.
The main portrayals are nicely complimented by some rather sturdy support work. But SCTV veteran Eugene Levy as Jim's concerned father winningly contributes the secondary performance affording the most benefit to the plot. Hell-bent on teaching his Portnoyish (the ludicrous apple pie scene is unforgivable) sonny boy about the birds and the bees at these rather sensitive crossroads in his life, he is part uncomfortable nerd, part enthusiastic Cyrano and always loving dad. Levy hooks glibly into the film's rough groove to supply a barrage of endearing laughs while giving American Pie the grown-up stamp of legitimacy it would sorely miss without him.
For all its nasty posturing, when it comes down to cases this is really a traditional tale, a punk-suburban look at the fires of spring. It's just dressed up like Peck's Bad Boy. And that's because between the ages of 14 and 17 there is status in smut. The off-colour tint is more a marketing consideration than an inseparable part of the story.
Hand held over mouth in faux embarrassment, young viewers enjoying their vicarious complicity in these ribald goings-on will readily offer their favourite parts and register hearty approval of this self-conscious prurience. For just as American Pie's four Lotharios are really more interested in impressing each other than actually making the post-pubescent journey in question, it's so much cooler to flaunt one's sophistication than to wax rhapsodic about the moral of the story. But surprise. The core viewing group's worst fears are realised: Hidden amidst the irreverent junk food, American Pie manages to serve up a nourishing slice of life.
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