There was no better time and place for a boy and his dong to come of age than the film-school milieu of New York City as the sexual revolution of the 1960s burst through for a whole new decade of erotic abandon and bedroom experimentation. The student protagonist of The Magic Garden of Stanley Sweetheart (1970) has every advantage--boyish good looks and easy charm, affordable recreational hallucinogens, the bed-hopping ethos of bra-burning coeds, access to movie cameras, an apartment of his own. As the pieces of a perfect adolescent conception of an ideal existence fall into place, the audience is led to ponder: Is it any wonder that this free-love generation is taking so long to grow up?