Okay, gather ‘round the flickering glow of the imaginary CRT, folks. Remember those weird corners of the video store? Past the big new releases, beyond the familiar action heroes, sometimes nestled in "Foreign," sometimes just vaguely under "Comedy," you’d find tapes with covers that promised… well, you weren’t always sure what they promised. And sometimes, you grabbed one, maybe because the title sounded ridiculous or the cover art was bafflingly specific. That’s the vibe that surrounds 1990’s Pierino torna a scuola (roughly, Pierino Goes Back to School), a late-inning gasp from Italy’s once-thriving Commedia Sexy all'italiana genre.
For the uninitiated, Pierino wasn't just a character; he was the character, Italy’s ultimate juvenile delinquent, forever stuck in elementary school, forever chasing skirts, and forever the star of countless low-brow, high-energy comedies throughout the late 70s and early 80s. This 1990 entry sees the inimitable Alvaro Vitali, despite being well into his 40s, squeezing back into the schoolboy shorts for another round of pranks, lechery, and bafflingly simplistic gags. It’s like finding a forgotten Happy Meal toy at the bottom of a box – slightly dusty, undeniably cheap, but it sparks a weird flicker of recognition.
Back to Class, Same Old Tricks
The plot, if you can call it that, is threadbare even by the standards of the genre. Pierino, our perpetually failing protagonist, is once again forced to repeat a school year. This flimsy premise serves primarily as a framework to hang a series of loosely connected vignettes featuring Pierino tormenting his teachers, lusting after the famously voluptuous substitute teacher (played by genre staple Malisa Longo, who seemed contractually obligated to appear in these things), and generally causing chaos. There’s the long-suffering principal, the exasperated parents, and a classroom of kids who look suspiciously older than elementary school age.
What made Pierino the guy back in the day? It was Alvaro Vitali. Tiny, rubber-faced, and possessing an almost superhuman ability to mug directly at the camera, Vitali is Pierino. His energy is undeniable, even if the material here feels tired. He throws himself into the slapstick with gusto, pulling faces, making weird noises, and executing pratfalls that probably looked funnier after a few Peronis late on a Friday night. One fascinating bit of trivia: Vitali actually started his career in Fellini films, appearing in small roles in classics like Satyricon (1969) and Amarcord (1973) before finding massive B-movie fame as Pierino. Talk about a career trajectory!
The Laurenti Touch (or Lack Thereof)
Behind the camera is Mariano Laurenti, a director who churned out these kinds of comedies with alarming frequency. Think of him as the Italian equivalent of a Hal Needham or a Jim Wynorski – prolific, efficient, and not overly concerned with artistic nuance. His style here is functional at best: point the camera, capture the gag, move on. There’s little visual flair, and the pacing often relies on repeating jokes until they’re hammered into the ground. Yet, Laurenti knew his audience, and for a time, his formula (often co-written with folks like Francesco Milizia or even comedian Gino Bramieri, who has a writing credit here) reliably put butts in Italian cinema seats.
The film absolutely looks like 1990 low-budget European cinema. The film stock has that slightly washed-out quality, the sets are basic, and the costumes look like they were pulled from whatever was available that day. There are no elaborate stunts or practical effects to marvel at here, unlike the action flicks we usually champion. The "action" consists of Vitali falling over, throwing pies (or their equivalent), and lots of frantic running around. The humor is broad, often crude, and relies heavily on double entendres and sight gags that were already feeling dated by 1990. Remember the iconic Elena Fabrizi (also known as Sora Lella), the grandmotherly figure often seen in Italian comedies? She pops up here, adding a touch of seasoned comedic timing amidst the chaos.
Fading Laughs in a Changing Italy
By 1990, the golden age of the Commedia Sexy was decidedly over. Tastes were changing, Italian cinema was facing different challenges, and the simple formula of boobs-and-butt jokes mixed with slapstick wasn't landing like it used to. Pierino torna a scuola feels like an attempt to recapture past glories, reuniting Vitali and Laurenti, but the spark isn't quite there. It performed modestly at the Italian box office, but it certainly wasn't the phenomenon earlier Pierino films had been. Critics at the time, predictably, were not kind, viewing it as a relic of a bygone, less sophisticated era. Yet, these films developed a strange afterlife on VHS and television, becoming guilty pleasures or objects of nostalgic curiosity for those who remembered the Pierino craze.
Finding this on tape back in the day would have been an oddball discovery. Maybe you rented it expecting something akin to Porky's, only to be met with something distinctly... European and decidedly lower-rent. It’s not sophisticated, it’s not clever, and parts of it are frankly cringeworthy by today’s standards. But there’s a peculiar charm to its utter lack of pretense. It knows it’s a cheap, silly comedy, and it leans into it with a weird kind of honesty.
VHS HEAVEN RATING: 3/10
Explained: Look, on any objective scale of filmmaking, this is scraping the bottom. The script is rudimentary, the direction is basic, and the humor is relentlessly low-brow. However, for fans of niche European genre cinema, Alvaro Vitali completists, or those morbidly curious about the tail end of the Italian sex comedy boom, it holds a certain bizarre fascination. The 3 points are awarded purely for Vitali's committed (if repetitive) performance, its status as a genuine artifact of a specific time and place in B-movie history, and the sheer audacity of trying to pass off a 40-year-old man as a schoolboy... again.
Final Thought: Pierino torna a scuola is less a movie, more a time capsule filled with stale fart jokes and the lingering scent of cheap hairspray – a fuzzy, weird transmission from the final days of a uniquely European brand of VHS silliness. Approach with caution, low expectations, and maybe a strong drink.