I love my dead, gay son
The eighties were a peculiar time. Jocks were uber-jocks. Nerds were uber-nerds. And attractive women did their best to appear the opposite of cute with their arsenal of shoulder pads and hairspray. I made this observation while watching Heathers, which is probably the single greatest teen movie ever made. Of course, calling it a teen movie is a bit of an insult, as it's far too intelligent, witty, and acerbic to fall into the boundaries of sugary tales about unrequited love, senior year parties, and kids stuck in saturday detention.
I'm not saying there is something wrong with those kinds of movies. I like John Hughes as much as the next boy, but they're bound by audiences' expectations that everything is going to be ok when the screens fades to black. Even when film makers try to emulate the social satire of Heathers, as in Mean Girls, in the end they always surrender to sentimentality. A five minute segment where girls talk about their feelings and how sniping each other is hurtful? I feel puke slowly climbing up my throat just recalling it.
And not that I disliked Mean Girls. It was probably the best teen movie that had been made since Heathers. Of course, that's like saying Helen Hunt is best looking lady in a room full of burn victims, considering the state of the post-80's teen movie. And scratch that, I did enjoy Ten Things I Hate About You, despite its horrible name. (Insert stock joke about the genius of marketing execs)
But a lack of sentimentality isn't what makes Heathers such a great flick. Nor is it neccesarily the hilarious and memorable one-liners or the great cast. It's the incredible insight. Not just into the horrible way humans are nonchalantly cruel to one another. ("I don't have anything against Martha!" protests Veronica as she's ordered to help in a prank against an overweight student. "You don't have anything for her, either!" counters Heather #1) The frightening insight I find so fascinating here is into the mind of up-and-coming-psychotic J.D. who, like the cocksuckers behind Columbine, had a fascination with chaos. A fascination that would drive him to try and murder the entire populace of his whole school.
This movie would never be made in a post-Columbine America, which is unfortunate because it's the exactly the kind that should be.
The eighties were a peculiar time. Jocks were uber-jocks. Nerds were uber-nerds. And attractive women did their best to appear the opposite of cute with their arsenal of shoulder pads and hairspray. I made this observation while watching Heathers, which is probably the single greatest teen movie ever made. Of course, calling it a teen movie is a bit of an insult, as it's far too intelligent, witty, and acerbic to fall into the boundaries of sugary tales about unrequited love, senior year parties, and kids stuck in saturday detention.
I'm not saying there is something wrong with those kinds of movies. I like John Hughes as much as the next boy, but they're bound by audiences' expectations that everything is going to be ok when the screens fades to black. Even when film makers try to emulate the social satire of Heathers, as in Mean Girls, in the end they always surrender to sentimentality. A five minute segment where girls talk about their feelings and how sniping each other is hurtful? I feel puke slowly climbing up my throat just recalling it.
And not that I disliked Mean Girls. It was probably the best teen movie that had been made since Heathers. Of course, that's like saying Helen Hunt is best looking lady in a room full of burn victims, considering the state of the post-80's teen movie. And scratch that, I did enjoy Ten Things I Hate About You, despite its horrible name. (Insert stock joke about the genius of marketing execs)
But a lack of sentimentality isn't what makes Heathers such a great flick. Nor is it neccesarily the hilarious and memorable one-liners or the great cast. It's the incredible insight. Not just into the horrible way humans are nonchalantly cruel to one another. ("I don't have anything against Martha!" protests Veronica as she's ordered to help in a prank against an overweight student. "You don't have anything for her, either!" counters Heather #1) The frightening insight I find so fascinating here is into the mind of up-and-coming-psychotic J.D. who, like the cocksuckers behind Columbine, had a fascination with chaos. A fascination that would drive him to try and murder the entire populace of his whole school.
This movie would never be made in a post-Columbine America, which is unfortunate because it's the exactly the kind that should be.
posted by john william at 11:28 AM
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