“Fast Times at Ridgemont High” (1982) is a pop-culture sacred cow that needs to be skewered. I’d rate it a 2 out of 10 for being a surprisingly inept and poorly scripted 1980’s “classic.”
I just don’t understand the fervent popular reverence for this movie among people in my age bracket. It was a minor legend when I was growing up. I was a fourth grader in 1982, and gradeschool boys could be divided into two groups: 1) those who had seen the “Phoebe Cates pool scene” and 2) those who had not, but wished they had. When I mentioned on social media a couple of months ago this year that I’d never actually gotten around to seeing this movie, my friends were roundly astonished.
Why do they think this film is indispensable viewing? Maybe there’s something I’m missing. I’m tempted to group “Fast Times at Ridgemont High” together with other beloved 80’s films that just don’t resonate with me — like the understandably campy “Tron” (1982) or the unexpectedly sleep-inducing “The Big Chill” (1983). (I couldn’t even finish the latter.) But I can’t compare, because I know those movies are objectively good in a lot of ways, even if they weren’t to my taste.
Nor am I squeamish about raunchy sex comedies. (C’mon.) I pretty fondly remember “Porky’s” (1981), “Porky’s II: The Next Day” (1983), and “Revenge of the Nerds” (1984). I mentioned “Porky’s” to the friend with whom I watched “Fast Times” — I told her that it wasn’t highbrow entertainment, but I still remember it being crudely, blasphemously funny.
This movie was just a thinly scripted small collection of vignettes, with no overall plot outside of teenagers having sexual encounters that are … awkward and bluntly sad, for the most part. (Sean Penn’s character does drugs.) The dialogue is terrible. None of the characters are likable — even the story’s nerdy, well-meaning protagonist is grating.
I didn’t really laugh once at anything the director intended — I only laughed at the haircuts and the clothes. I just can’t believe that the screenwriter here was Cameron Crowe, who also wrote what is possibly my favorite movie of all time — the widely but unfairly maligned “Vanilla Sky” (2001). (Crowe apparently adapted the screenplay from a novel he wrote.)
There is some enjoyment to be had in watching Penn’s stoner character. It was fun seeing a well known serious actor in an early comedic role. Penn is a decent character actor, and it looks like he was having fun. I do get why kids in the 80’s found him funny.
It’s also fun seeing the handful of other young actors who would go on to great careers (Judge Reinhold is always funny) but, again, this is something that the filmmakers can’t take credit for.
Hey, if you want a slice-of-life dramatic comedy about teenagers in the 1980’s, then go rent “The Breakfast Club” (1985). It wasn’t perfect, but it was damn good movie that tackled many of the same issues as this movie, but with intelligence and effective humor. Or, try the oddball “Ferris Bueller’s Day Off” (1986). Both movies portray teenagers in the 80’s who are smart, likable and emphathetic, in varying degrees. I myself went to high school in the 1980’s, and I assure you they were around.
Isn’t this tie the greatest? She sure can pick ’em! I like to think of it as a bold, metallic blue.
Or maybe cerulean blue, like a gentle breeze. (Actually, it isn’t, but I can’t resist an obscure “The X-Files” reference.)
And it has the truly unpredictable effect of enhancing my impression of Robert De Niro in “The Untouchables!” (See the photos below; I am the one on the right.)
I had fun with “Guardians of the Galaxy” (2014). I’d rate it an 8 out of 10, if a little grudgingly. For me, it started quite strong with its introduction of Chris Pratt’s roguish space antihero; I actually had no idea he could be this funny. (I’ve only seen him once before, weighed down by the failed comedic scripting of 2015’s “Jurassic World.”)
I’m sorry to say that my interest in “Guardians of the Galaxy” waned just a bit as it subsequently unfolded as a cartoonish, relatively tame, family-friendly adventure — complete with a heartwarming value-of-friendship lesson. That’s fine, I guess — it’s cool and it makes sense that the Marvel Cinematic Universe should offer films more appropriate for younger viewers. Can you imagine, however, how hilarious this movie would be if it truly deserved its (befuddling) PG-13 rating, and really pressed the envelope? Between Pratt’s wit and these offbeat character concepts, it would be amazing.
I still had fun with this, though, thanks mainly to the action and the impressive special effects. I’d recommend it, and I’m planning on seeing the sequel.
Postscript — people are saying that this is the MCU’s answer to “Star Wars,” and I suppose it could be. But I had a lot more fun thinking that the movie was channeling Harry Harrison’s priceless science fiction book series featuring criminal-antiheroes — the “Stainless Steel Rat” adventures.
The poem’s actual title is “A Visit From St. Nicholas,” but the above is the title by which many of us remember it.
I hope that you and yours enjoy a wonderful Christmas Eve tonight. Just make sure you are fast asleep when St. Nick arrives. (He can always tell!)
*****
“A Visit from St. Nicholas”
‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse;
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there;
The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads;
And mamma in her ’kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled our brains for a long winter’s nap,
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below,
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer,
With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;
“Now, Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen!
On, Comet! on, Cupid! on, Donder and Blitzen!
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!”
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky;
So up to the house-top the coursers they flew,
With the sleigh full of Toys, and St. Nicholas too.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound.
He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot;
A bundle of Toys he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a pedler just opening his pack.
His eyes—how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow
And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow;
The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath;
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook when he laughed, like a bowlful of jelly.
He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself;
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk,
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose;
He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle,
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,
“Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night.”
Eric Robert Nolan, Author 