That's My Boy opens with a premise that is rife with the potential for satire. In it, a teenage boy (Justin Weaver) enters into a sexual relationship with his attractive female teacher (Eva Amurri Martino). The results are of the usual adolescent mindset; she keeps him after class in detention and starts to hit on him. When the two are caught mid-coitus on stage at a school assembly, the crowd of students (and male teachers) bursts into applause and cheers.
Then the scene shifts to a courtroom where the results are more of the same (The bailiff and the stenographer exchange a high five), until the judge speaks. She is as brash about her disgust for the sight in front of her as the men and boys are about their admiration. It doesn't matter that it's the ultimate teenage fantasy, she tells the defendant, now pregnant with the kid's eventual offspring; it's against the law. The boy is a victim, even if he and most of the other people assembled don't see it that way (Left unspoken, of course, is that, if the gender roles were reversed in the scenario, everyone would be as outraged as the judge is in this case).
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