In an attempt to earn money, a young teenager beautiful girl named Shirley, who works at a part time job as a babysitter, the thing that helps her in saving her school's needs, and incidents come to climax when she falls in love with Michael, the father of the children who get bored from his life with his wife and begins a relationship with her.
Until it crosses a shadowy line dividing serious comedy from distasteful exploitation, The Babysitters has the makings of an incisive satire of greed and lust in suburbia.
A pathetic excuse to trot out a procession of teenage girls in the raw, performing graphic simulated sex acts with your basic suburban family man drooling all over himself.
Their customers are awkward enough that we're able to believe the girls are in control, or at least aware that they're the highlight of the men's week.
Is Ross trying to mimic Michael Haneke, daring his audience to be disgusted by the very titillating premise which probably brought them to the movie in the first place?
It's bad enough that writer-director David Ross indulges in the very perverse kind of Lolita-tinged titillation the film pretends to lament, but then he ties everything up with an oh-well shrug.
