The Ultimate History of the ’80s Teen Movie. By James King. Diversion
Books. $18.
If there were an Ig Nobel prize for movie
criticism, James King would deserve it. The Ig Nobel awards, parodies of the
Nobels, are given annually to genuine, legitimate scientific research that is
simply weird: attaching a weighted stick to the rear end of a chicken to give
the chicken a dinosaur-like walk; asking a thousand liars how often they lie,
and deciding whether to believe their answers; doing a seated self-colonoscopy;
using roller-coaster rides to speed the passage of kidney stones – that sort of
thing (those are all genuine Ig Nobel winners). The Ultimate History of the ’80s Teen Movie would be a winner for investigating,
in seriousness and with plenty of footnotes, a film genre whose utter
unimportance is as overwhelming as are the personalities of the people involved
in it (their on-screen personalities and, in most cases, their real-world ones
as well).
The story arc here leads more or less from
Saturday Night Fever (1978) to Dead Poets Society (1989), exploring
along the way The Karate Kid, Fast Times
at Ridgemont High, Sixteen Candles, The Breakfast Club, and many more films
of the type. The writing is strictly for people deeply steeped in pop culture,
and not only of the movie variety: “And even when an older, classic song was
used – such as Led Zeppelin’s 1975 rock behemoth ‘Kashmir’ – it was still
pretty cool: the famously fussy Zep only let it in because they liked Crowe’s
music journalism and, in his original undercover article, many of the
characters at Clairemont had been Zeppelin fans, eagerly awaiting the band’s
upcoming US tour that would ultimately be canceled in the wake of drummer John
Bonham’s death from accidental asphyxiation in September 1980.” Yes, that is one sentence, and there are lots more
where that came from (the book runs to more than 400 pages).
There are all sorts of footnotes, too,
showing that King has done a lot of research in some rather odd places. One
note says, “From the obituary of Ronald Reagan, Los Angeles Times, Johanna Neuman, June 6, 2004.” Another is “‘Demi
Moore learns to accept change,’ Lawrence
Journal-World, July 11, 1985.” And another: “New York thrash metal band
Slayer would put that crossover on record in 1991 when they collaborated with
Public Enemy on a new version of their single ‘Bring the Noise.’ The rap band’s
original had appeared on the soundtrack of Less
Than Zero. The early ’90s also saw director Mario van Peebles follow his
era-defining urban drugs thriller New
Jack City (1991) with the ‘black Western’ Posse (1993).” The book reads as if King’s mind is so jam-packed with things he has learned
that there is just no way to fit everything in standard-size type: the overflow
to the bottoms of pages becomes necessary to show the breadth of King’s
knowledge of the primary topic and secondary ones as well.
This is a book simply packed with
information on the who, what, when, where, and how (much less of the “why”) of
teen movies of the 1980s in all their glory, or vainglory. Who made the films,
who financed them, who acted in them, who distributed them, how well or poorly
they did at the box office – readers will get all that and more here, whether
in a chapter called “The Joy of Sex” (which opens, “Not every teen film from
1983 was chic and slick” – hopefully King does not think the last and antepenultimate
words rhyme) or in one called “Big Budgets, High Concepts.” That latter title is
intended to be taken seriously, leading as it does to a chapter that includes
corporate information in some of King’s typically extended sentences: “MTV
began to court older viewers with its spin-off channel VH1 and then, in 1985,
American Express left the set-up entirely, leaving Warner to soon sell
everything off to the media conglomerate Viacom, a company that had made its
name distributing CBS shows to local TV stations.” But the reference to
corporate matters highlights a systemic weakness of The Ultimate History of the ’80s Teen Movie: King has little
interest in showing how the films reflected the society in which they were
made, or how they highlighted (or downplayed) elements of that society. The
book is about a whole passel of insiders making a whole passel of largely
imitative films in pursuit, certainly, of money, but apparently not much else:
the vapidity of many of these movies seems to reflect an insipid culture around
them. But does it, or does it merely reflect the extent to which Hollywood was,
in the 1980s (among other times), so far outside the mainstream of America in
general that it had no idea what the wider culture really was like? This sort
of question does not interest King in the way that the performers, directors
and distributors of ’80s teen movies do. There are passing references to social
changes in society that are reflected (or not) in various films, but there is
no consideration of whether the teen-movie genre itself had (or has) any
importance beyond, well, making money from the teen audiences at which the
movies were aimed.
Ultimately, The Ultimate History of the ’80s Teen Movie is for dyed-in-the-wool
fans of the teen-targeted films that King explores: millennials, now
approaching or having passed the age of 50, who want to cling to the notion
that they are still “in with the in crowd” (a 1960s musical reference that
still seems apt). Those possessing an unending fascination with all things
Hollywood will find plenty here that they will consider meaty from an “in
crowd” perspective. On the other hand, those not already deeply immersed in
these films and the environment in which they were made will find the book rather
thin gruel: it can, in fact, be difficult for those not sufficiently “in the
know” to tell one of these ’80s teen films from the next. Such teen-movie
wannabes can take heart, though – not from King’s book but from work by Shigeru Watanabe, Junko Sakamoto, and Masumi Wakita,
who successfully taught pigeons to tell the difference between paintings by
Picasso and ones by Monet. That work won those three researchers an Ig Nobel prize
in 1995.
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