Tuesday, August 26, 2014

“My So-Called Life” at 20

“Like I should have something important enough to know when it happened.”-Angela Chase pondering her uneventful life as compared to her parents’ generation while studying JFK’s assassination in her sophomore social studies class.

In 1994, as I embarked on my freshman year in high school, My So-Called Life was that memorable event.

I remember clipping the feature story on MSCL that appeared in Newsday the summer of 1994 and deciding that this was going to be a show that I was going to watch.  Series creator Winnie Holzman had grown up just one town over from me on Long Island.  The show’s impact was immediate. I dyed my hair with Manic Panic trying to capture Angela’s “crimson glow” though settling for more of a cherry Kool-Aid.  In the years that followed, as I outgrew dressing like Angela for Halloween and going by the names Angelica and Rainie with my closest girlfriends, the devotion continued in other ways such as seeing Wilson Cruz in Rent on Broadway seven times and quoting Angela Chase in my senior year book: “Because if you made a book of what really happened, it’d be a really upsetting book.”

I was born during the low-birthrate years of the twilight of the Carter administration, sandwiched between Generation X and the Millennials. Generation-defining events like Berlin Wall’s collapse, the first Iraq War, and later Columbine and 9/11 fell outside the boundaries of my more innocent and analog suburban high school experience. Over the years, I discovered anyone born a couple of years before or after me never watched MSCL during its original poorly rated run on ABC, maybe catching the show later on MTV or one of the eventual DVD box-sets. A week before the 20th anniversary of the show’s debut, I sat down to rewatch all episodes of MSCL in a marathon viewing to see if the show still defines this narrow Generation Catalano, a term popularized by Doree Shafrir at Slate capturing the in-between uncertainty of not quite knowing where we belong in this world, like a high schooler perpetually searching for the right table to join in the cafeteria of life. 

MSCL is virtually void of pointed political time markers that define the era, aside from the occasional Clintons reference.  When Angela fights censorship in the school’s lit magazine she declares, “It may not be a war protest or a civil rights demonstration but it’s all I’ve got.” (That and Kurt Cobain’s death which peers out at us from a Rolling Stone cover.) “When someone dies young, they stay that way” Angela declares; the same can be said of the short-lived series which never had chance to age or outstay its welcome.  I seem to age in reverse as I immediately conjure up memories of crushes and broken hearts while laughing, crying and smiling simultaneously as Rickie and Delia Fisher dance to Haddaway’s “What is Love”—immortalized by the duo at the World Happiness Dance. Fashion, however, does mark the ‘90s setting with younger sister Danielle Chase’s crimped side ponytail, scrunchies galore and unisex oversized plaid shirts and overalls.

Parents easily eavesdrop on landline phone calls in this era before cell phones and hand-written notes and bathroom gossip spread rumors, hatred and insecurity as cruelly but not as anonymously as one can online.  Prior to social media, time moves more slowly with every conversation analyzed and reanalyzed, stories such as Rayanne’s struggle with sobriety unfolding over much of the series with nary a contained very special episode in sight.  Storylines dealing with teenage drinking, homelessness, homosexuality and bullying, guns and the anxiety over losing one’s virginity were addressed realistically and straightforwardly.  Were Angela Chase a virgin in 2014, she might have found, “Losing your virginity isn’t as awkward as it was 20 years ago” according to a recent study examined at Salon.


Angela’s parents now seem so young as I’m far closer to their age than to their daughters. Actor Tom Irwin (Graham Chase) was just 38 when the show debuted. Family friend Camille Cherski laughs when Patty Chase has her pregnancy scare in the episode “Why Jordan Can’t Read”—as though it’s a preposterous idea to be pregnant at age 40.  However in the last two decades the number of births to women between the ages of 40-44 has more than doubled.  Angela’s parents while not exactly embracing middle-age were not in denial of it. 

MSCL was still more than two years removed from Ellen Degeneres’ “Yep, I’m Gay” Time cover story and Rickie Vasquez’s unspoken and eventually verbalized admission of being gay in the series finale is still revolutionary.  Rickie was lacking in familial support and role models and adults and teenagers alike found him “confusing” making his sensitive self-actualization all the more brave considering his hostile surroundings.

The Pittsburgh-set show was shot in Los Angeles but fake snow, colorful autumn leaves and frequent downpours block cheerful greenery from view creating an intimate atmosphere well-suited to Angela’s voiceovers and teen angst.  The fictional Liberty High was multi-ethnic, suburban and notably lower-middle to middle-class in sharp contrast to the students who were sharing the small screen at the time over in Beverly Hills.  MSCL didn’t glorify the teenage experience but held a mirror to its moody pendulum of emotion for the students who never thought to vie for class president, quarterback or prom queen. 

Angela has so much free time as compared to the structured over-scheduled lives of today’s teenagers. After her former best friend Sharon Cherski lists her afterschool activities: dance committee, student council, yearbook, band, etc. it becomes more apparent that Angela doesn’t pursue a single activity or interest. While even Jordan Catalano has his band “Frozen Embryos” and Rayanne scores the part of Emily in the school’s production of “Our Town”, Angela can’t even claim devotion to studying or an after school job as occupants of her time. “Promise me you won’t let boys drain all the fun out of your life,” Sharon knowingly asks of Danielle. But the advice would be better suited to Angela, who is defined by an unhealthy obsession with Jordan Catalano.  My teenage self never noticed that Angela has no vocalized goals or ambitions besides Jordan but my present self is amazed at the omission. Perhaps all the better to project our own teenage selves on the television screen?


Debuting a few years shy of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Dawson’s Creek and Felicity as well as the retro That ‘70s show and Freaks and Geeks, My So-Called Life remains unique for giving voice to an in-between generation otherwise lacking in small screen representation.  While Baby Boomers have cornered mainstream cultural nostalgia and Millennials are the consumer and media darlings of the present, Carter babies are left with few societal identifiers.  Perhaps what defines this generation is a shortage of defining characteristics, which makes My So-Called Life all the more valuable and at once specific and timeless.   

Wednesday, December 7, 2011

Young Adult- Movie Review (Opens Dec. 9, 2011)

Diablo Cody has crafted a sharp arsenic cookie of a script for director Jason Reitman's Young Adult giving audiences an indelible anti-heroine in Charlize Theron's Mavis Gary.  A recently divorced young adult fiction writer living unhappily in a dishevelled Minneapolis high-rise apartment, Mavis's greatest responsibility beyond editorial deadlines extends to the care of her purse dog. This former prom queen surrounds herself with ubiquitously vacuous reality TV culture- The Kardashians of course, Diet Coke guzzled straight from the 2-liter bottle, KFC dining and copious amounts of alcohol to numb her single life.  News of the birth of Mavis’s now married high school boyfriend’s daughter sends her with ill-conceived determination back to their hometown of Mercury, Minn., gunning her Mini Cooper to the land of strip malls and suburbia.  Surely this baby and its mother are merely surmountable problems as Mavis works to win Buddy back.

You know it's not going to go well at the sight of Mavis in her low-cut black evening dress hilariously typing drivel into her BlackBerry in an attempt to look busy before meeting a casually plaid clad Buddy (Patrick Wilson). Buddy is a suburban dad with teething rings and bouncy swings on his mind, not romantic reunions with his long forgotten high school girlfriend. This former prom king has settled into his role as a responsible husband and father and you never get the sense he shares Mavis's nostalgia for the good old days. His charmingly attractive jockish blandness conveys an embrace of adulthood which is outside of Mavis's grasp. 

Mavis strikes an unlikely friendship with former classmate and loveable geek Matt (Patton Oswalt) during her extended stay in Mercury. Matt, the victim of a hate crime back in high school which left him lame and gave him an excuse to play it safe for the rest of his life, tries to unsuccessfully advise Mavis to move on from the happily married Buddy.  Twenty years ago Mavis and Matt existed at the far extremes of the adolescent social pecking order with men like Matt “born loving” women like Mavis- beautiful, smart, intimidating, slightly psychotic and secretly insecure.  Now a teasing sibling-esque friendship is struck with Matt as the smart confidante and drinking buddy whose advice Mavis has no intention of abiding. 

Mavis by outward appearances is successful: attractive, the author of a tween book series (albeit as a ghost writer), living in the big city which merits the awe of at least some of Mercury’s residents who never left town like Matt’s sister Sandra (a memorable Collette Wolfe).  Mavis exists between the contrasts of impeccably dolling herself up for one night stands and “dates” with Buddy and shuffling along with sarcastic condescending disdain while clad in sweats and Hello Kitty t-shirts.  Dressing for the adoration of others masks this emotionally immature woman who suffers from trichotillomania and stretches the outer limits of social drinking. 

Mavis's wine stained histrionics before Buddy and his wife Beth (an excellent Elizabeth Reaser) are cringe-inducing.  Mavis has spent so long getting what she wants based on supposed superiority, appearances and selfish entitlement that she has deluded herself into an emotionally stunted existence oblivious to obvious rejection. The stereotype of the single thirty-something urbanite- unhappy, childless, untethered and the married suburbanite- settled in parenthood and homeownership with an unglamorous but stable lifestyle is realized. Young Adult is uncompromising, richly detailed, darkly humorous, genuine and squirm inducing.  It would be easy to call Mavis a bitch or pathetic but dig deeper and you may recognize yourself or someone from your own high school reunion.