I embraced “Nerd” for all it was worth; I embodied it and owned it. Unlike in the movies, I decided, Nerds do have productive and fulfilling lives, and it’s okay to be better at school than social relationships. It’s not a curse, at any rate, the way it is on celluloid. So now I deal with high school media a little differently: when I rented Clueless from iTunes to watch on a plane last week, or made my way through Skins on Hulu last school year, I spent every second of the movie or the episode with fingers crossed, hoping that the characters would suddenly decide not to adhere to their stereotypes: that the romantic subplot would not work out happily ever after, that the gay character or the black character would provide more than just comic relief, that the naturally pretty characters would not be made over into stylized, painted caricatures, ’80s hairdos and all.
Of course, it never does work out that way, and that’s the beauty of high school movies and part of why, I think, they’re so engrossing to those of us who have, quite definitely, moved on—physically, anyway. As I myself try to psychologically process the weird world that high school was, and to understand why things worked out the way I did, I do find myself looking to the movies and their truisms. If I had changed the way I look, I could have had a more lasting romantic relationship. If I hadn’t tried hard in school, I would have had more fun. If I had been more prone to making bad jokes, or indeed if I had conformed better to gender roles, I would have had more friends.
I obviously don’t really wish those things, and I obviously know the difference between cinema fiction and reality—where it is possible for a Nerd to lead a fulfilling life.
Possibly more than any other genre, high school movies are protean. I remember watching The Breakfast Club in health class in 9th or 10th grade (our high school was strangely focused on using cinema to teach healthy behavior--we'd go on to watch Philadelphia, which was a really interesting movie to experience for the first time as part of a multi-clique group) and being struck and confused and charmed by it all at once. I felt kind of stunned recently when a friend observed that of course Claire and Bender didn't find a way to stay together; my wanting them to had always propelled that relationship beyond the realm of the possible in my memory, as if I'd found a way to willfully misinterpret The Graduate all these years later.
I think it's a sign of my adulthood (or impending adulthood, or whatever) that I can watch high school movies without any bitterness or any expectation that they ought to transcend the simple pleasures that they present. I got sunstroke in New York City last summer and holed up on my friend Julia's couch, sucking hard candies to take the sour taste of dehydration out of my mouth, and watched Clueless with her until I felt better. It was the ultimate comfort movie, a world where things seemed relatively simple, and even the great mysteries and challenges of life could be overcome with an open heart and good works. Once you get out into the real world and high school seems positively benign, it's a pleasure to look back on high school movies. I don't really subscribe to the Heathers or Mean Girls philosophy that high school is as vicious or as complicated as it gets. There's spending too much on a dress, and there's being unable to pay your mortgage. In the words of the immortal Cher, there's way harsh, and there's genuine disaster. But high school is, undeniably, a difficult proving ground on the way to real life. And movies about it are a testament to the fact that we're all survivors.