,000 kids have arrived in Fort Lauderdale, Florida for spring break, intent on partying and showing some skin. For inexperienced college students Nelson (David Knell) and Adam (Perry Lang), it’s a dream come true. Once they check into the overcrowded, unkempt Breeze n’ Seas Motel, they plan to go crazy – or as crazy as two meek, reserved, unadventurous kids can be. Inconveniently, their room is also rented out to slobbish New Yorkers Stu (Paul Land) and O.T. (Steve Bassett), though these unwanted guests are hipper, fitter, and more worldly – and they promise not to get in the way.

The premise is flimsy, serving primarily as a setup for tanned beauties to bare some flesh. In the background are the trite subplots of Nelson’s stepfather’s political campaign trying desperately to avoid scandal, and the motel’s proprietor, Geri (Jessica James), struggling to avoid foreclosure (as well as meddling by her nasty brother-in-law and his building inspector buddy). Strangely, before the nudity pops up, there’s a considerable amount of male bonding going on, from a bellyflop contest to a beer-guzzling competition to a photo-booth montage. A music-laden juxtaposition follows, though it results in Nelson and Adam hitting the town but striking out, while Stu and O.T. bring back female companions.

“Those are Playboy tits!” In another unexpected twist, the more macho dudes have absolutely no qualms about urinating, defecating, and having sex virtually on top of their roommates, as they share incredibly crowded spaces (from beds to toilets). Oddly, the women also don’t possess the anticipated inhibitions necessary to worry about prying eyes from the strangers just a couple of feet away as they strip off their clothes and crawl under the covers.

It hardly matters, however, as the sex and drinking and partying merely transition to more sex and drinking and partying, often in overlong sequences that stretch out the runtime of a film that has painfully minimal substance. Plus, there’s time for pot-smoking and hair-styling. Nearly every scene is a montage of sorts, blasting pop music while the lead foursome down beers, travel from club to club, dance, roughhouse, engage in tomfoolery, and ogle ladies.

By the time the “world famous” wet t-shirt contest arrives, the movie has already unfurled nearly an hour of boredom. It certainly doesn’t help that after the women are soaked with water, a horde of men line up to receive a generous dousing. “Spring Break” is clearly aimed at horny teens, but it’s curiously undiscerning as to sexual orientations; there’s seemingly something for everyone – except for mature moviegoers. Perhaps the only moderately original moment arrives in the form of a long-awaited tryst that is aggravatingly foiled by Nelson’s inability to remember a room number – a fitting fate for one of cinema’s least sympathetic, stupidest protagonists. This is only amplified when the gang devises a solution to their parental and financial woes that involves assaulting a bunch of bodyguards, private eyes, campaign aides, and boat employees (with buckets of ice, balloon animals, beer foam, and cream pies).

– Mike Massie