CONCEPT
There will be a couple spoilers.
Check out the context. The context is important. Not all-important. It takes effect.
I saw this series in its entirety for just the second time this last month. Needing to be obsessed with something at all times, and too wound to allow myself to become totally obsessed by either the move or the wedding, this was to be a fine, brainless burst of nostalgia to shift the tempo from spring to summer and allow me to immerse in the hormones I’ll need to survive the next three months.
Things did not go as expected. They never do.
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To give some perspective, this whole moment started one night when I was at a party Cate threw. Cate lives literally two minutes from Jess (if Jess lived across the hall from where she does, they’d be able to look into each others’ window), and so Jess and I walked over with threatening sounds of storms overhead, and celebrated Cate’s birthday with her. I saw the DVDs sitting on the shelf, and was immediately inclined to ask if I could borrow them. But I didn’t think it was right to bust out a question like that in the middle of actual real conversations and after six hours the party was still going strong, but I was exhausted. I went back to Jess’ to lie down for awhile. I didn’t even mention the DVDs.
I was a little surprised three hours later when Jess showed up with the DVDs. She’d noticed them on her own, and asked to borrow them, on her own.
I was a little surprised at how irritated I became when I found out she didn’t wait for me to watch them with her. I sunk in, and, in the middle of wedding and grad school planning, caught all nineteen episodes in several binge sessions. (Don’t let me fool you; things are really hectic right now, moreso than average, but still less than right before scavhunt).
And this wasn’t just a brainless burst of nostalgia. Watching these episodes over again, with more age and maturity, I feel, like, connected.
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“This life has been a test. If it had been an actual life, you would have received actual instructions on where to go and what to do.”
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Let’s start with everything bad about this show, before we get into pedestal setting:
1) There’s a sort of arrogance to the series that’s deep enough to go unnoticed as long as you’re not looking for it. The best documented of these is Claire Danes who seemingly has little in common with Angela Chase. Among other things she’s said and done over the years, she also angled for the series to end while it was still in the throes of struggle. Claire’s career, of course, has continued, but might have never been if not for Angela Chase. It’s actually a testament to Claire’s acting ability that none of this (apparent, since I don’t know her) bitchiness seeps out on the show, and only a little peeks through on Late Night with Conan O’Brien.
Claire is only the most obvious example. The more disturbing arrogance came on the part of an artist I truly admire; the show’s creator, Winnie Holzman. It might seem catty of me to demand uncompromising art, even while I fault her for repeatedly saying this was a series to the effect that it “was a realistic depiction of a teenager’s life” and not “and attempt at a realistic depiction of a teenager’s life.” I might even acknowledge a contradiction there. But in an interview, when the question was posed, “why did the characters use the word ‘like’ so much?” Winnie seemed to take offence.
Winnie: Well, like, I don’t know. I guess it’s just like how I heard them. But if it’s annoying you, I guess I can like, understand that too.
In a similar vein, someone asked Scott Winant “how is the music for the show selected? Do you have any ‘consultants’ in Angela’s age group?” he answered:
Scott: I pretty much select all the music for the show.
If they acknowledge more openly their limitations in portraying “realistic” adolescentia, these statements wouldn’t smack of arrogance, but there it is: The question posed to Winnie is valid, but almost none of us used the word “like” quite so often, and if we did, we came out looking like asses. By the same logic, Scott’s answer sounds foolish, because we equally know that his choices weren’t particularly realistic… a look at high school halls everywhere at that time would’ve shown Nine Inch Nails, Candlebox, Alice in Chains, Pantera, Boyz II Men, Nirvana, and Smashing Pumpkins. The only times these bands are even mentioned is in a list Angela rattles off right before the closing credits roll in Ep. 4. These are kids from Pittsburgh, PA. They didn’t care about the Afghan Whigs, much less Buffalo Tom. Just like I never heard of Aimee Mann before that flower movie came out.
Now I can already hear the vaguely post-teenage chorus yelling at me: “But I loved Buffalo Tom!” But look at the big picture, and you know I’m right.
Still, why am I making such a big deal of this?
Because I think that style of inauthenticity exposes a cockiness in creators and actors that flies in the face of the show’s alleged vulnerability and openness and human fallibility. For those of us watching for “mere entertainment,” the arrogance merely stings. For those of us watching for something more, it feels like a bit of a betrayal. And, of course, arrogance paves the way for criticism #2.
2) Miscalculations.
In their attempt to create realistic teenage drama, there were pervasive miscalculations. The whole “zit” episode, despite some mesmerizing moments and truly relevant themes, was a little absurd for its namesake. Teenagers don’t get all that tore-up by zits. Maybe if your face is a pizza, but certainly not Angela Chase’s non-zit. People don’t say, “oh, go squeeze your zit.” This isn’t brain surgery: most of us get zits, and given the fact that we don’t want it to turn on us, given the fact that people we admire get zits, and given the number of other, more effective ways to make someone feel miserable about her physical appearance, even Sharon Chursky would’ve found a better insult.
As I said, the music seemed a little weird. I had a hard time imagining the brooding flunky alternateen choosing the Ramones of all things for his musical debut, and it’s incomprensible that Angela, who listens to all the groups I did at her age, would have had no conception of the Grateful Dead.
Sometimes, miscalculations hovered about important choices, and could’ve been averted with just a bit more attention. For example, Rickie is constantly in the girls’ bathroom. This is an important choice. It would’ve worked, and been a lot more believable, if it had just been a bit more of an issue.
3) Character Arc.
This is the medium-imposed difficulty, and if it made me flinch a little during My So-Called Life, it essentially ruined Desperate Housewives for me. Now I think Housewives is the most brilliantly conceived show on TV right now, so this gives a sense of how I highly I regard Life and how, in short, both Nielsons and Aristotle are huge liabilities when it comes to realism.
This criticism, which could apply to most characters, is best summed up in one name: Graham. Two observations about Graham. First, he has about the closest thing to an ideal liberal American dad life: his smart and fun kids revere him, his attractive wife is devoted to him, he’s intellectually stimulated by what’s going on around him, he has (surprise, surprise) some sort of adventure almost every week, and perhaps most importantly on this list, he has a well-above-average sex life. Second, Graham is the best listener on the show, meaning he recognizes these things and knows their value. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be such a positive model for Rayanne.
But, in a fifty minute drama you have to make every character relevant. You have to do this about twenty times a season. And as we learned from Aristotle and on down through Chekhov, you have to keep the stakes high. While Graham’s contemplation of an affair made sense at the beginning, all of the reasons for an affair have eroded by mid-season. Moreover, the potential for chemistry with other women has eroded because the guy’s been getting profound doses from Rapunzel, I mean, Patty, all along, and one human can only handle so much chemistry. In short, they never convinced me that Hallie stood a chance. I still don’t think she does. Here’s an example of My So-Called Life, with ‘Totle and ABC in toe, pushing the show in a direction it doesn’t belong.
These are my so-called beefs with My So-Called Life. They only really bother me when they intertwine, with arrogance conspicuous and in front. Now I can safely gush.
To be continued…