Here We Go Round the Mulberry Bush (1968)

When I hit puberty, the only advice I remember my father giving me was, “Treat a whore like a princess, and a princess like a whore.” Not understanding it, I ignored it.

In the UK, however: When the exasperated, knickers-obsessed Jamie McGregor (Barry Evans, Die Screaming Marianne) is told the same in so many words, the 18-year-old grocery delivery boy puts his all behind it, in hopes of losing his virginity. From “grotty birds” to wealthy women, every attempt at a stolen kiss, popped button or unzipped zipper is comically foiled.

Given the sheer amount of ladies’ names bunched on one slide in the opening sequence, one correctly assumes Here We Go Round the Mulberry Bush to come by its nursery rhyme-derived title easily: Jamie tries to score; Jamie fails; Jamie tries again. And that’s exactly what director Clive Donner (What’s New Pussycat) delivers.

If not for the mod scenery, Swinging London vibe and preponderance of Steve Winwood on the soundtrack, the hormonally fueled farce would fit in as readymade for the ’80s teen-movie scene. And not unlike the eventual (but sex-free) Ferris Bueller, Jamie lets no thought go unexpressed to viewers.

With Evans striking the right balance between likability and believability, Mulberry Bush has a fun-loving innocence about it that doesn’t seem icky. (We’ll leave that to the McGregor bathroom cabinet’s tin of “medicinal charcoal biscuits,” whatever those are.) That said, like the real-life chase between — ahem — monkey and weasel, it eventually grows tiresome. —Rod Lott

Get it at Amazon.

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