At a glance, it might seem like Clueless hasn't aged well. A retelling of Jane Austen's Emma, it reads like a sympathetic portrait of the super-rich, designed to show that their wealth doesn't insulate them from the trials and tribulations of the human heart. But Clueless is much more than clunky propaganda, and its glib appearance is part of the film's design.
It's a smart, satirical, and devastatingly sweet movie, wrapped in a tartan miniskirt. It's a film about appearances, and the deception they work on us: the film repeatedly finds people writing Cher off as a clueless, privileged airhead—but she turns out to be much smarter, more caring, and more genuine than people give her credit for.
It's about the push-and-pull between style and substance, and finding value in bringing people together instead of stepping on them to get what you want. It's about realizing that the image of happiness can be dramatically different from the genuine article. It's about recognizing that the map is not the terrain—as Paul Rudd's Josh might describe it, quoting ostentatiously from one of his assigned readings.
Revolution is just a T-shirt away.
In a weird way, it reminds me of The Decline of Western Civilization, Penelope Spheeris' epoch-making documentary about LA punk. Featuring performances from bands like The Germs, X, Fear, Circle Jerks, Black Flag, and those other ones you don't remember, Spheeris' pic seems to offer exactly what it says on the tin: a portrait of civilization unraveling, abetted by the bloodlust of a crowd of psychotic teenagers. (That's certainly what LAPD Chief Daryl Gates saw, since he typically responded to Black Flag with a phalanx of armored riot cops.)
But as anyone who's seen it knows, there's more to Decline than that. Despite the violent nihilism of figures like "Mike the Marine" ("X-Head" in the below clip), Spheeris paints a portrait of a group of people who are deeply invested in the creation of a culture they can call their own.
Both films were also directed by women. Spheeris and Clueless director Amy Heckerling were part of a group of breakout female directors that emerged in the 1980s, along with Penny Marshall (Big) and Kathryn Bigelow (Point Break, Zero Dark Thirty). While Spheeris was finishing Decline, Heckerling was making Fast Times at Ridgemont High, a depiction of kids in America from outside the bubble of punk's avant-garde. It's new wave at the food court, rather than hardcore at Oki Dog—but it's still not too hard to imagine Spiccoli as a Decline interview subject.
Ironically, the Fast Times soundtrack (which featured artists like Don Henley and Jimmy Buffett) ended up pretty far from what Heckerling originally imagined:
I guess a lot of people like that stuff, but being young as I was at the time, I really wanted a new edgy eighties music soundtrack. I wanted Fear, Oingo Boingo, The Go-Gos, The Talking Heads, and the Dead Kennedys. I was one of those obnoxious teenagers that thought that the music I liked was great and everything else sucked. Getting that Oingo Boingo song in the film was a big fight. But I had to make some compromises and put in some songs that I didn't like at all.
Just think: instead of Jackson Browne's "Somebody's Baby", Stacy could have lost her virginity to the strains of "Beef Bologna".
The transformation of history into a series of stylistic pastiches is one of the trademarks of postmodernism, and since new wave was all about decontextualized stylistic gestures, Clueless is actually the ultimate '80s new wave movie—despite being released in 1995, deep in the grunge era. ("I don't want to be a traitor to my generation and all...") But this is also a bit of sleight-of-hand, since the film's message is pure flannel: think globally act locally, mean people suck, come as you are.
Stylistically, the soundtrack is kind of all over the map, from electronic beats to weepy acoustic ballads to spiky pop-punk. But it makes sense, as this phenomenal piece by Elizabeth Sankey argues, because many of the songs also work as themes for the individual characters.
"Where shall we see a better daughter, or a kinder sister, or a truer friend?"
(Emma, Volume I, Chapter V.)
(Emma, Volume I, Chapter V.)
The musical turtleneck of Radiohead's "Fake Plastic Trees"? That's Josh, all the way. The Beastie Boys' "Mullet Head"? That's chronically tardy skater boy Travis Birkenstock. (I totally forgot his last name was Birkenstock until I watched it again, it's a nice touch.) That one is apparently a B-side from Check Your Head, but it sounds very much like the pre-rap, NYHC version of the Beastie Boys—again, you get the present gesturing with the past.
Elton doesn't get a theme song, because he left his Cranberries CD in the quad.
I like to think that World Party's "All The Young Dudes" (originally by Mott the Hoople, written by David Bowie) is the anthem of Ms. Geist, Cher's impassioned English teacher; it was what she listened to during her wild, younger days. And the Smoking Popes' "Need You Around" feels like Mr. Hall to me, because he's also good-natured and old-fashioned, and their singer is sort of the Wallace Shawn of pop-punk—endearing bald guy with a one-of-a-kind voice.
Fun and relevant fact: Twink Caplan, the actress who plays Ms. Geist, appeared in an episode of Who's the Boss (and one where Samantha goes to see the Beastie Boys, no less) that also features Lee Ving.
(In case you don't know, Lee Ving was the singer from Fear, the band who closed out The Decline of Western Civilization. He also appeared in Flashdance and Clue!)
Possible future post: "punk" episodes of '80s sitcoms.
Of course, there's not a 1-1 correspondence for songs and characters. Some of them are just killer jams, like The Lightning Seeds' "Change" or Supergrass' "Alright", two Britpop gems that are too often overlooked (although "Alright" turns up in commercials now and again).
Perhaps best of all is the effervescent bubblegum of Jill Sobule's "Supermodel"—which, as Sankey notes, accompanies one of the finest makeover montages you'll ever see. The song's actually a pretty biting satire, a la Frank Zappa's "Valley Girl", but Heckerling knows this, and is foreshadowing Cher and Tai's realizations later in the film.
Clueless also came out just as ska-punk was poised to take over the airwaves (it hit theaters three months before the release of No Doubt's Tragic Kingdom), and appropriately the film features a cameo by the Mighty Mighty Bosstones. Their two contributions, "Where'd You Go?" and "Someday I Suppose" (not on the disc, but in the movie), are excellent songs, and they honestly feel a lot less dated than most of the limp indie rock from this era that nerds still salivate over.
The ska revival has long provided an easy target for snobs, but compared to modern fads like grad student black metal, the Bosstones feel bracingly sincere and charming—even with (or especially because of) the dancing guy.
"One man's style must not be the rule of another's."
(Emma, Volume III, Chapter XV.)
There are some other pretty clutch songs in the movie that didn't make it to the CD. The most obvious is No Doubt's "Just a Girl", which could easily serve as a manifesto for the whole film. But the biggest omission is "Tenderness", the sparkling General Public single that plays over the final scene at Ms. Geist's wedding. Tellingly, "Tenderness" also appeared in some of Clueless' brat pack forerunners like Weird Science and Sixteen Candles (which also ends with a wedding).
But good news: here's a Spotify playlist of the soundtrack that I made for you, with those three missing songs added back in. Accept no substitutes! ("No shit, you guys got Coke here?" "Yeah, this is America.")
It's not quite as sterling a listen as Angus—the Luscious Jackson tune feels really out of place, and I'd definitely scrap that stupid fucking Radiohead song, Josh be damned. But it's still a quality collection of tunes that's worth revisiting...and hopefully not just sporadically.
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