I want to live in an '80s teen movie. When I was little, I always figured that, at some point during high school, I'd sew my own prom dress. That didn't happen. Instead, I just wore store-bought ones, and I felt cheated. Slammed. Hurt by the fact that I couldn't be as pretty in pink as Molly Ringwald. Plus, there was no James Spader. And that's a tragedy.
Or at least that's what I thought. In hindsight, the real tragedy is that real-life high school is just not as cool as '80s-teen-movie high school. The awkwardness, the tension, the brace-faced, plaid-clad Trekkies: These movies make my four years at Mary D. Bradford in Kenosha look like a bad episode of ""Sabrina, the Teenage Witch""—minus the magic. In real-life high school, nobody's running around, making BFFs in Saturday detention. Parties aren't getting crashed by mutant bikers, and there is pretty much zero chance you're going to get kissed by the hottest senior in school just by wishing on some candles. Plus, nobody—NOBODY—is Lloyd Dobler. Nobody. Don't even try. It is a fruitless effort, and you'll be less of a man for it.
But that's the best thing about '80s teen movies: Everything works out. People are going to dances in homemade gowns, they're knocking beer can pyramids over at parties, parents are forgetting birthdays left and right—but still, in '80s teen movie high school, you're not going home alone. And even if you do, Jake Ryan's showing up the next day at your sister's wedding in his tight jeans with a birthday cake. That's not happening in real-life high school. And it's definitely not happening in '90s teen movie high school.
In '90s teen movie high school, you're most likely 28 years old, and whoever you are is not good enough—because you're not just like everybody else. If you're not Taylor Vaughan, you're Laney Boggs the Deplorable. If you're not Bianca Stratford, you're Kat Stratford the Carnival Shrew. What is this teaching the real-life high school kids of today? That, sure, the geeky chicks and dudes can prevail, but not without sacrificing who they are at the mercy of the popular kids?
In ""She's All That,"" would Laney Boggs have achieved Zach Siler without losing her artistic originality? In ""Drive Me Crazy,"" doesn't Chase Hammond have to ""fall into the Gap"" before Nicole Marris can even consider him as a prom date? Geez. With exceptions like ""American Pie"" and ""Can't Hardly Wait,"" '90s teen movies are nothing but a gigantic bashfest on teen individuality. They tell teens to be popular, be skinny, do whatever it takes to get Mr. or Miss Perfect, even if it means surrendering your morals, interests and identity.
That's why I like '80s-teen-movie high school. ""The Breakfast Club"" teaches that ""each one of us is a brain, an athlete, a basket case, a princess and a criminal."" Ferris Bueller's life isn't realistic, but he is who he is, and he's not laying down for anybody. Geeks are getting with hotties while remaining geeks. Poor kids are getting with rich kids while remaining poor. Not everybody is wealthy, living in L.A., going to the beach every weekend and throwing wild, lavish parties complete with anorexic girl cliques and crystal shot glasses.
So while it may be idealized, maybe '80s teen movie high school is a lot like real-life high school after all. I mean, the guys aren't as cute and moments aren't as priceless, but you are who you are, and in my experience, nobody's holding a social hierarchy over your head, forcing you to change. Unlike the students of '90s-teen-movie high school, in real life, you have a real brain. You have real parents and real choices. Choices you have to make on your own or with the help of real friends. And who would you rather have helping you: Some idiot Paul Walker character... or Lloyd Dobler?
