Viking Night: Heathers
By Bruce Hall
January 11, 2010
BoxOfficeProphets.com
High school wasn't the easiest time for me, mainly because I disliked the clique mentality that defines those years. But much of the social interaction we have during adolescence is about dividing ourselves into tribes, and if you prefer to judge people on merit instead, you're going to have a hard time fitting in anywhere, let alone in high school. Some would argue that adults aren't much different, and in many ways they're not. But if adults treated each other with the same consistent level of cruelty that their children do, there would be no need for nations to go to war - nations would never form. The young are indeed almost uniformly naïve, making it the duty of every adult to set an example of civility. Because while no child can yet understand what it is to be an adult, every adult has already been a child - which should give them a reference point when it comes to relating to adolescents. But sadly, most grown ups quickly forget what it was like to grow up, self sabotaging their interaction with the younger generation. This is the essence of the prototypical teen movie - the crucible of anxiety in which we mature juxtaposed against chronically insensitive adults who've forgotten what it all means. And without a doubt, some of the best known examples of this are the handful of well loved high school comedies written by the late John Hughes. Films such as Sixteen Candles, The Breakfast Club and Pretty in Pink have become genre synonymous, and are still widely used as benchmarks today.
Peppered with outsized teen protagonists, oblivious parents and witless authority figures, Hughes' work collects a lot of mileage from the very real disconnect that often exists between generations. But more often than not, it's mined for comic irony, sometimes so much that the ultimate dramatic climax feels forced. Hughes also had an undeniable flair for capturing at least the casual nuance of middle class teens. But his movies often struggled to illustrate their true depth, frequently weighed down by simplistic metaphorical contrivances. Almost every character was an archetype whose supposedly earth shattering problems were painfully incidental - and the solutions were usually painted with an implausibly broad brush. The idea that the presence of adults and the existence of rules are the only things keeping teenagers from understanding themselves is a bit of a stretch. And I don't know where you grew up, but if a group of obvious caricatures like the Breakfast Club had been forced to spend eight hours together at my school, I promise the results would have been infinitely less cathartic. But Hughes' gift for conveying simple truths through gentle farce was always well intentioned and it endeared him to millions. It was rarely meant to be taken literally, and I think the majority of the people I went to school with rarely did. But his success spawned legions of imitators; many of whom did cinema more harm than good. There was bound to be backlash, and leading the charge was a shameless little film called Heathers.
Heathers was described by director Michael Lehmann as "the High School movie to end High School movies," and in some ways it was. The film mercilessly pillages all aspects of Hughesian Design - the idyllic suburban setting, vapid parents, vainglorious school administrators, over-the-top students and exaggerated social divisions - they're all there. However, lampooning John Hughes was nothing new, even back in 1989 - and if Heathers had been merely a cynical send-up of Hollywood's favorite teen angst auteur, it never would have been as memorable or controversial as it was. What Heathers happens to be is a well written and deviously original comedy in its own right, using the "John Hughes parody" template as a sounding board for something considerably more taboo. The film paints a morbid picture of the disingenuous way we often let death temporarily change our attitude toward another person. And it utilizes the concept of suicide as a catalyst and the institution of high school as its canvas. If it sounds like I'm trying to say that Heathers is a black comedy about teen suicide, I'm not because it isn't. It would be more accurate to call it a black comedy about life, death and human frailty. It just happens to take place in a high school; one whose teenage caste system has run amok, creating a fascist state with a triumvirate of despots at the top – all named Heather. And so our film drops its motley cast into this dirty, shallow fishbowl and proceeds to conduct a highly deranged social experiment on them. We're tempted to laugh, but eventually we're asked to consider whether everyone should be held accountable in an environment that allows anyone to be dehumanized.
Released in 1989, Heathers opened to mixed reviews and tepid box office. It might have dropped entirely out of existence had it not been for its release on video where the film developed a passionate following. Parents were rarely impressed but young people were drawn to the film's outrageous personalities, daring story and obvious core message - that it's who we are inside rather than how we're perceived by others that truly defines us. The movie is particularly well cast, specifically marking a key point in the careers of future stars Shannen Doherty, Winona Ryder and Christian Slater. And while I would not describe any of their individual performances as revolutionary, they and majority of the cast are ideally suited to their characters. In fact, with only a handful of exceptions it's easy to forget that you're watching actors at all, so seamless is the chemistry between most of them. Add to this a diabolically clever script crackling with stylish dialogue and the hyper realistic, surreal environment the characters inhabit, and it becomes much easier to buy the madcap chain of events that Heathers is selling.
Heather Duke (Doherty) is the junior member of the aforementioned trio of Heathers who rule their school with an iron fist, deciding on a whim who fits in and who doesn't. They are merciless in their torment and not above using anything or anyone in any way to sustain their social status. Though she's marginalized for much of the film, it's in the final act - when her character's status unexpectedly changes - that we catch a glimpse of the impudent poise for which Doherty would later be known.
Veronica (Ryder) is something of a reluctant accomplice to the Heathers who half heartedly attempts to fit in with them, though it's obvious she would rather mingle with the rank and file. How she got mixed up with this cadre of backstabbing shrews is never explained, but these characters and their relationships are clearly meant to be symbolic. Though veronica assists the Heathers in working over their classmates, guilt compels her to try and change her three friends for the better, without success. Eventually she begins to feel trapped, longing for a way to bring down the Heathers and return her life to normal without losing face in the process. Ryder outshines much of the cast and lends surprising emotional depth to a character that doesn't stand out in the original script.
Jason Dean (Slater) is a newcomer to the school; a disaffected outsider whose disdain for elitism initially attracts Veronica and ignites a torrid affair between them. Together they devise a plan to take back control of the school, but Dean's ultimate solution proves to be far worse than the problem. It quickly spirals out of control and divides the couple, setting up one of the most simultaneously hilarious and disturbing climaxes in film history. Slater's grating and shameless faux Jack Nicholson impersonation is almost head splitting at times, and is my only true complaint about this film. But the character he creates is a cocksure rebel from Hell - full of seething resentment and violent anger - and it's hard to deny that he does hit all the right notes at all the right times.
Of course, no discussion of Heathers would be complete without mentioning the late Kim Walker. Her spirited portrayal of foul mouthed, sociopathic drama queen Heather Chandler almost walks away with the first third of the film. As leader of the Heathers, she's easily the most colorful member of the cast and her screen time turns out to be unexpectedly short. You will most likely cheer her departure but if you're still watching by then, you're sure to be quoting her most memorable lines of dialogue for the rest of the day.
Heathers is an ambitious, audacious film that covers a lot of ground, but I can't say that it's flawless in its execution. Even ardent fans often have difficulty identifying the main themes, and for every person attracted to the film's offbeat humor, you'll find many more who are mystified by it. One thing is certain - when Heathers was released, not everyone was amused. Grim, ironic comedies peppered with sex, violence and sea salt dialogue were not as common in 1989 as they are today. In fact, I'd place the general level of coarseness here at roughly the Quentin Tarantino level. The violence itself is not particularly graphic, but some may find its context unsettling.
A word to the wise - Heathers is by no measure afraid to linger on disturbing or crude imagery. Almost every teen actor of note at the time turned down a role in this movie, and across America many were horrified that a comedy would dare breach the subject of teen suicide. To be fair, Heathers treats this sensitive subject as something of a red herring instead of as base subject matter. Rather than suicide itself, Heathers makes effective sport of the glib way we often assign simplistic causes to the complex reasons why some people lose hope. To say more would be to spoil the plot but while criticism of the film's tone has merit, to portray Heathers as nothing more than a crass dismissal of human decency is to entirely miss its point.
I'm not afraid to claim Heathers as one of my favorite films, or to admit that like all the movies I examine in this column, it certainly isn't for everyone - yet it is more than the sum of its parts. I recall a time at my own high school when a somewhat unpopular student passed away suddenly and predictably, a wave of soul searching ebbed and flowed over the campus for some time. Parents and teachers wrestled with how to address the issue and we students spent a great deal of time trading fond reminiscences of someone very few of us actually knew.
I was taken aback by the cruel irony that someone so roundly ignored by her peers in life had suddenly become, in death, the most popular and beloved member of the class. It's human nature of course to rhapsodize over the recently departed, and to this day I've never attended a funeral where the deceased was not described as the finest human being on earth - regardless of their actual level of character. But I recall thinking at the time that this must be how we wrestle with guilt. Perhaps we wax nostalgic over the past because it often represents lost opportunity that we'd like to have back. And maybe sometimes we dote over the memories of people we wish we'd treated with more care while they were with us. We are sometimes neglectful of one another and then we fail to notice it until it's too late. But this doesn't mean we don't deserve a chance for redemption, and perhaps that's what the lives we've been given are all about. We make mistakes, we are cruel, we are wasteful, we disappoint ourselves and others - but we all can do better. And in its weird, warped way, this is the point Heathers ultimately attempts to make - that we all deserve the chance to try.