If I could check into any hotel from any movie ever made, I’d choose the Tropicana Cabana from Hot Chili, one of the dumbest American sex comedies of 1985 or any other year. Why not? The climate at this film’s Mexican resort is warm, the architecture is lovely and, oh yeah, there’s a raging nymphomaniac around every corner. Sounds like a good place to sip a margarita to me. Among this hotel’s highlights are the slender blonde who likes to call for room service while she practices her cello in the nude. There’s also the German dominatrix who gets awfully lonely every time her husband steps away for five minutes. There’s the curvy chef who wears an apron and nothing else. We also must mention the hardbody who likes to lift weights by the pool in a bikini and the nice girl who turns us all into bad boys when she strolls around in a swimsuit that’s about the size of fifty cents worth of postage stamps. Like all fine 80s sex comedies, this is an indefensible blend of terrible jokes, ubiquitous Grade-Z skinny-tie music from names you’ve never heard of and pretty girls. Its best gags are Lemon Popsicle rip-offs and its best actor lets his belly flab do most of the work. You are GUARANTEED to be a little bit dumber after you watch this feelgood story of four college dorks who have the summer of their young lives getting laid and getting into trouble in this land of exotica. Your brain cells will have died honorable deaths.