I am a child of the 80s, for good or ill. This means I secretly love a lot of things that have long since become uncool. Coming of age in the 80s explains my love of girls in Flashdance sweatshirts and stirrup pants, clear colas, and silly sex comedies.

The heyday of the slightly raunchy but ultimately good-natured sex romp coincides exactly with my teenhood, and I remain quite vulnerable to their charms. The makers of “Hot Tub Time Machine” know this. Not just about me, but everyone who started going on movie dates in the Reagan era. They set out to make a dumb, likable oaf of a movie, and I have to admit: their aim is true.

You know enough from the title to have a basic idea of the plot. A few hapless souls are transported to 1986 by a mystical hot tub and are presented with the opportunity to live a pivotal weekend in their lives over again, this time armed with the knowledge of how their teenage decisions turn out.

Getting the right mixture of titillation, heart and pathos is a tricky science, but HTTM strikes a nearly perfect balance. The preview audience I saw it with was laughing and groaning along from the very beginning.

Rob Corddry and Craig Robinson are worth the price of entry on their own. I really hope this movie launches both of them into the rarified comedy orbit that Will Ferrell is currently stinking up.

It’s not “My Dinner with Andre” and I could have used a little less projectile vomit, but it succeeds quite nicely on its own terms. If you liked “Better Off Dead” it’s worth your ten bucks. If you didn’t, well, see a doctor.