Angst. Life. The way things are. The way we wish they were. The way they’ll never be.
In “Lucas,” Kerri Green asks Lucas to tell him why she is attracted to Charlie Sheen instead of him. He brings up Darwin, and says it’s survival of the fittest. The fittest in any species are driven to each other to ensure survival the species. And yet, at the end, the underdog is applauded by the fittest as if he belonged to their closed society.
Emily Dickinson wrote “The soul selects her own society, then shuts the door – to the majority. Present no more.” I will always remember that line and how I personally understood it. How the door gets closed to the secret membership of who is hip in your world…
I teared up at the end of Lucas, seeing how they wanted me to believe. I figured the writer had been the underdog and wanted to write life with a better ending.
“The Truth About Cats and Dogs.” It wasn’t the truth, really. “Hairspray.” Not the truth. “Meatballs.” Not the truth. The list goes on and on from “The Breakfast Club” to “Some Kind of Wonderful” to “Pretty in Pink” to “Sixteen Candles.” And, then, there’s “The Goonies,” “The Princess Diaries,” “What A Girl Wants” and “Grease.”
I guess everybody could add one or two that I’ve missed: movies that inspired the unfit to think they they could aspire to popular, to sexy, to cool, to hip. Movies that left me realizing the unfit became writers and the fittest acted the parts, leaving to few among them to outsiders who would play the fat girl, the science geek, or the awkward, late bloomer in a high school or world that was in full bloom and leaving them behind.
Perhaps there is a secret society that propels the underdogs to aspire to greatness. Perhaps, I’ll write a movie about it, and cry at the end…
(((Inspired by my friend’s blog about her teenager.)))
What I always absolutely hated about Grease was that, at the end, Sandy has to abandon who she intrinsically is and become the “cool chick” in leather pants, high heels, teased hair and a smoke dangling from her fingers. We all know she’s not that girl. She’s the girl in a ponytail and a sweater set, and there should be nothing wrong with that. She shouldn’t have to change to be accepted any more than Danny should have to pretend to be a jock to be desirable to her.
It’s the same with all those movies where the awkward ugly duckling becomes hot and cool at the end. Screw that. That’s why I love movies like As Good As It Gets so much. It’s about misfit characters finding each other. Melvin doesn’t change who he is in the end; he’s still, well, crazy. But that’s okay. They work it out. In Almost Famous (another fave), the socially awkward kid DOESN’T get the girl, and he doesn’t end up fitting in with the “cool” band. He’s still a geek. That’s who he is. And that’s okay too.
One of my favourite scenes from that movie:
Lester Bangs: Aw, man. You made friends with them. See, friendship is the booze they feed you. They want you to get drunk on feeling like you belong.
William Miller: Well, it was fun.
Lester Bangs: They make you feel cool. And hey. I met you. You are *not* cool.
William Miller: I know. Even when I thought I was, I knew I wasn’t.
Lester Bangs: That’s because we’re uncool. And while women will always be a problem for us, most of the great art in the world is about that very same problem. Good-looking people don’t have any spine. Their art never lasts. They get the girls, but we’re smarter.
William Miller: I can really see that now.
Lester Bangs: Yeah, great art is about conflict and pain and guilt and longing and love disguised as sex, and sex disguised as love… and let’s face it, you got a big head start.
William Miller: I’m glad you were home.
Lester Bangs: I’m always home. I’m uncool.
William Miller: Me too!
Lester Bangs: The only true currency in this bankrupt world is what we share with someone else when we’re uncool.
Comment by kellyemeren — October 24, 2008 @ 3:08 pm