Featuring an incorrigibly fluffy popadelic electrosynth soundtrack by Gert Wilden, and more supple, jiggling bare flesh than your mind can fully metabolize, Schoolgirl Report #8: What Parents Must Never Know has arrived at last on DVD, courtesy of indispensible nudie purveyor Impulse Pictures. A product of the loosening moral standards that internationally defined the 1970s, Schoolgirl Report is an anthology vignette series hinged on the framing conceit of giggling, whispered retellings of illicit adolescent sexual fumblings by young, buxom European girls who’ve had the pleasure of experiencing them firsthand.
In What Parents Must Never Know, a group of private schoolgirls hop a bus for a wholesome fieldtrip to the idyllic countryside, with nothing to distract their developing minds except grazing cows and innocuous wildlife. During the long journey to their destination, the girls amuse themselves by playfully recounting their most scandalous sexual misadventures, which run the gamut from quotidian seduction of household servants and unexpected public encounters with voyeurs to full-blown, vengeful sexual conspiracies aimed at elder authority figures. The sex scenes, likewise, are a pleasantly mixed bag, incorporating a range of light fetishes from exhibitionism to group sex, but never delving into the more typically German arena of hardcore kink. The dirtiest vignette is the climactic one, wherein a girl seduces her father’s boss on a pool table to keep him from losing his job.
Though never afraid to venture into the realm of comfortably transgressive naughtiness, Schoolgirl Report is a refreshingly sweet and wholesome series compared to many other softcore films of the time, which increasingly strove to compete with hardcore porn by flirting heavily with fringe content like bondage and humiliation. Like its predecessors, What Parents Must Never Know is loaded with full-frontal nudity, classical seductive frisson, and an occasional touch of broad slapstick comedy, but its sexual politics are surprisingly progressive and it never comes across as mean-spirited.
Impulse’s DVD is slightly disappointing in terms of technical quality, although the movie itself more than makes up for it. The print has a few scratches and pops, and the menu design is bare bones, lacking even a trailer or image gallery. The series is so popular that a more explosive treatment might have been apropos, but even a stripped-down release (no pun intended) packs enough raw entertainment value to be worth the cost of admission. Composer Wilden has a cult following all his own, and the most desirable unrealized extra for the DVD would have probably been an audio soundtrack, but until somebody else decides to do a domestic reissue, I guess I’ll just have to keep playing that opening credits sequence on a loop over and over again.