:: Three cheers ::

Tuesday, March 18, 2003

Tonight, our friends at the USA network aired "Bring it On", an ostensibly harmless bubble-gum flick centered around the tribulations and triumphs of a high school cheerleading squad. The protagonist, mislead by her predecessor, must right the proverbial ship and prove herself worthy of leadership as her neatly-constructed, white-bread world threatens to crumble around her at the hands of plagiarism.

I fully admit my biased reticence prior to viewing it. By the end however, despite my preconceptions, I found myself genuinely enjoying it. Maybe it tapped into some latent pulp sensibilities or regressive vicarious urges. Maybe I'm just shallow enough to derive a scintilla of healthy heterosexual enjoyment from a movie featuring gads of nubile cheerleaders. Perchance I found the cinematography to be brazen and audacious, engendering a veritable new wave of American cinematic verisimilitude. Or maybe it was the sanguine sub-plot involving the driven-yet-humble, attractive-yet-flawed, socially-gifted cheerleader who falls for the somewhat misanthropic, rebellious-yet-charming, dark-haired punk wannabe whom others deem to be a "loser" (direct quote - kids can be so cruel). Maybe the way she clasped his neck and playfully drew him towards her after winning 2nd place (but more importantly: respect and vindication) in the national competition spoke to the under-appreciated masses out there. Maybe their courtship evoked memories of high school fantasies left unfulfilled, their bitter deferment and subsequent withering now tainting the present anew. Perhaps some viewers might have worked very, very sedulously to suppress those disappointments and scolded themselves, wallowing in masochism, as each long commercial break provided yet more contemplative opportunity to ponder just how far the harsh reality of his/her youth diverged from the idyllic utopia, awash in obnoxious hues and oversaturated colors, now dancing its way across the screen like a Tide commercial on Prozac.

Nah. Didn't strike any nerves there... still searching for the basis of its appeal. What? Why is it so hot in here? And why are you all looking at me?!

Ok, the far more horrible truth is that I liked it because it was snappy, disposable, as innocuous as a fetal Basset Hound, and bubbly.

Crap. That's much worse. I rescind that in favor of the bitter, lingering-angst angle.

[quietly sips Jonestown Kool-aid while listening to Joy Division]

Posted by morland @ 11:05 PM

:: Comments ::

It's all about the spirit fingers. Spirit fingers.

Posted by: Stout on March 19, 2003 03:38 PM

I just wanted to say that I, too, saw this movie on television, and it was excellent. I feel like I've developed a really great relationship with Kirsten [Dunst] after seeing Spider-Man, and seeing this movie really has deepened our understanding of each other.

Posted by: jexe on March 25, 2003 03:28 PM

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