If Cheeta went to the "Blue Lagoon" with the Sheik of Araby, that would be "Paradise," a classic in bad movies, a peach-fuzz sex thriller, crammed with camels.

Though lousy, "Paradise" is no loser. It's sure to attract the elevensies in droves. Phoebe Cates -- Brooke Shield's heir apparent -- and Willie Aames of "Eight Is Enough" -- are adrift in the dunes after their caravan is attacked by The Jackal (Tuvia Tavi), a slaver who's tracking the Cates character, a subdeb named Sarah.

Luckily, Sarah and Aames, a missionary's son named David, escape on a dromedary, its lips, at times, seemingly slathered in non- dairy whipped topping. Unluckily, his parents and her guardian are kebabbed by the Jackal, and, alone, the orphans meet menarch by mid-movie. She gets cramps, he gets interested. Later their pet monkey plays with himself under a date nut palm and Sarah and David get ideas.

Despite his simpering, their buds quicken and their sexuality awakens, with slo-mo vengeance. In a parallel subplot, Doc, the chimpanzee, gives up on himself, meets a female chimp, awakens her sexuality, and gets her pregnant. All the while, we beg the director, show us no more underwater shots of Aames swimming, his chunky baby buns peeping out of his goatskin bikini, his clumsy body lolling amid tropical fish. And please, Sarah, stop showering under the idyllic tropical waterfall. Please don't grope yourself for a maturation progress report. And get those bikinis off those apes.

Where are these kids anyway: Utah, the Caribbean, Santa Monica? And those sets were left over from Tony Curtis in "Ali Baba and the 40 Thieves." Their designer hut in "Paradise," with Swedish rya rug, looks like a Pier One showroom. And most peculiar of all, where did they get those curtains, the gauzy kind that float in the window a la "Summer of '42."

Even when The Jackal, who sporadically arrives brandishing a scimitar, burns down the curtains, hut and all, they make a new home in one of the ubiquitous oases and, first off, put up the curtains again; they're as plentiful as prayer shawls.

The dialogue couldn't get more inane --"I can't get this stupid camel to stop" -- the score more preposterous -- from belly-dancing doggerel to the lollipop-rock love song, ''When I'm with You, It's Paradise." She can't cook or stop giggling; he can't act and chew gum at the same time.

It's a one-hump movie. So plan no bedding down at the oasis, just get on your camel and ride, for "Paradise" is about as romantic as sand in your pants.

PARADISE -- At 16 area theaters.