If you grew up in the eighties, you probably remember the "porking" movies. Those raunchy, high-energy sex comedies where the nerd eventually wins, the bully gets a face full of punch, and everyone loses their virginity to a synth-pop beat. But then there is The Last American Virgin.
Honestly, calling it a comedy feels like a bit of a prank. It’s the ultimate "bait and switch" of cinema history. You walk in expecting Porky's and you walk out needing a therapy session and a stiff drink. It’s been decades since it hit theaters in 1982, yet people are still arguing about that ending on Reddit and in film bars like it happened yesterday.
What Most People Get Wrong About The Last American Virgin
Most people lump this in with the forgettable "teen exploitation" fluff of the era. On the surface, it fits. You’ve got the classic trio: Gary (the nice guy), Rick (the alpha jerk), and David (the comic relief). They’re chasing girls, dealing with a particularly nasty case of crabs, and trying to score beer.
Standard stuff.
But The Last American Virgin isn't actually an original American story. It’s a remake. Director Boaz Davidson basically took his own 1978 Israeli hit Lemon Popsicle (Eskimo Limon) and transplanted it to Los Angeles. This matters because the "DNA" of the movie isn't Hollywood optimism. It’s European-style cynicism wrapped in a Southern California burrito.
While movies like Fast Times at Ridgemont High—released the same year—had a certain sunny vibe even in their darker moments, this film is gritty. It looks cheap because it was. Cannon Films, the legendary "schlock" studio run by Menahem Golan and Yoram Globus, produced it. They didn't have a big budget for hair and makeup, so the actors often wore their own clothes and did their own hair.
It gives the movie a weirdly authentic, almost documentary-like feel. These kids look like actual teenagers, not 30-year-olds in Gap sweaters.
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The Sound of Heartbreak: A Soundtrack That Hits Too Hard
You can’t talk about The Last American Virgin without talking about the music. It’s incredible. The soundtrack is a literal time capsule of 1982 New Wave and Rock.
We’re talking:
- The Police ("De Do Do Do, De Da Da Da")
- Devo ("Whip It")
- The Cars ("Since You’re Gone")
- U2 ("I Will Follow")
- Oingo Boingo ("Better Luck Next Time")
The way Boaz Davidson uses these tracks is almost cruel. When Gary is pining for Karen (played by the iconic Diane Franklin), we get these sweeping, romantic needle drops like "Open Arms" by Journey. It builds up this "John Hughes" expectation in your brain. You think, Okay, he’s the protagonist. He’s doing the right thing. He’s going to get the girl. Then the movie rips the rug out.
Why the Ending is Truly Soul-Crushing
Spoilers for a forty-year-old movie, I guess? But we have to talk about it.
The plot takes a massive, dark turn when Karen gets pregnant by Rick. Rick, being a quintessential 80s movie douchebag, abandons her. He literally tells her to get lost.
Gary—our "hero"—steps up. He sells his most prized possessions, borrows money from his boss at the pizza shop, and pays for Karen’s abortion. He stays by her side. He nurses her back to health. He takes her to her birthday party with a locket he bought her, thinking this is the moment. The "Grand Gesture."
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He walks into the kitchen and sees Karen making out with Rick.
The guy who knocked her up and dumped her.
The screen doesn't fade to black with a joke. It stays on Gary’s face as he walks to his car and drives away, sobbing uncontrollably. The song playing? "Just Once" by James Ingram. The lyrics literally go: "I did my best, but I guess my best wasn't good enough." It’s brutal. It’s the most "real" ending in the history of teen cinema because, in real life, the nice guy doesn't always win just because he was "nice." Sometimes, people make terrible choices and go back to the people who hurt them.
The Legacy of a "Disposable" Masterpiece
Is The Last American Virgin a good movie?
Critics back then were split. The Los Angeles Times hated it, calling it "distasteful." But over time, it’s become a cult classic precisely because it refused to play by the rules. It deconstructs the very genre it belongs to.
It’s a "meta" commentary before that was even a cool thing to do. It tells the audience: "Hey, you know all those tropes where the nerd gets the cheerleader? That’s a lie."
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The film also features some of the earliest screen appearances of people who would become familiar faces, like Kimmy Robertson (Lucy from Twin Peaks) and Steve Antin (who later directed Burlesque). Lawrence Monoson, who played Gary, gives one of the most raw performances of the decade. That final scene wasn't just acting; it felt like a collective exorcism of every teenager who ever had their heart stepped on.
How to Revisit the Film Today
If you’re looking to watch it now, look for the MVD Blu-ray release. It’s probably the best version out there, though some DVD versions apparently had to swap out songs due to licensing issues (like The Human League’s "Love Action" being replaced in some cuts).
Watching it today is a trip. You have to look past some of the "of its time" humor—which can be pretty crude—to see the melancholy underneath.
Actionable Insights for Movie Buffs:
- Watch the original: If you really want to see how this story evolved, track down Lemon Popsicle. It’s wild to see how identical some shots are between the Israeli and American versions.
- Listen to the lyrics: The next time you watch, pay attention to the songs Gary doesn't hear. When he's alone, the music is upbeat and mocking. When he's with Karen, it's romantic delusion.
- Contextualize the "Nice Guy": There’s a lot of modern debate about whether Gary is a hero or "creepy." He does some questionable things (like popping Karen's bike tire to get a chance to talk to her). Analyzing the film through a 2026 lens makes it even more complex.
This isn't a movie you watch to feel good. You watch it to remember what it felt like to be seventeen, hormonal, and completely, utterly wrong about how the world works.
To fully appreciate the impact of this film, start by comparing the theatrical soundtrack to the current streaming versions to ensure you're getting the intended emotional "punch" of the original needle drops. Check specialized boutique labels like MVD or Vinegar Syndrome for the most authentic transfers that preserve the 1980s film grain and the original audio mix.