GHOST WORLD A-
USA Great
Britain Germany (111 mi)
2001 d: Terry Zwigoff
Creeps and losers and
weirdos, these are our people. —Enid
(Thora Birch)
Much like Zwigoff's brilliant documentary exposé Crumb (1995)
that focuses on the tragic life of comic artist R. Crumb, who combats the
horribly damaged tragedy in his own life with his fiercely savage art, this
film perceptively creates sympathy for the lives of social misfits and
alienated outcasts who counteract the stigma of social ostracism with biting
sarcasm and acerbic wit. One of the better
films that provides mood, atmosphere, and comic insight into the acute
sensibilities of teenagers, showing how easily they remain stuck inside their
self-absorbed worlds, where due to the level of conformity demanded in high
school and as major consumers of mass culture, despite their need to be an
“individual,” it’s so easy to pass judgment on others who are different,
developing social tiers of popularity based on where you fit in. Adapted by the director along with Chicago
screenwriter and graphic comic artist Dan Clowes from his original comic book
novel by the same name, eight installments serialized in Eightball from 1993–97, the story focuses on the life of best
friends Enid (Thora Birch) and Rebecca (Scarlett Johansson), two teenagers that
don’t fit in, that both lie outside the social mainstream, yet maintain some
degree of sanity by continually mocking and satirically poking fun of others,
continually commenting on how fake and shallow the world is with a kind of
corrosively sarcastic humor. In this way
they carve out their own niche of outsiderist respectability, but once the
safety net of high school has been pulled away, they have no one left to
target, as they are suddenly thrust into the real world, where at their lame
graduation party Rebecca points out, “We'll never see Todd again,” knowing that
their targets of playful fun will suddenly disappear. While Rebecca is much more likely to fit into
the consumerist “mall world,” doing what’s expected of her though hating every
minute, leading a considerably downbeat existence, thinking everybody around
her sucks, Enid takes a stand against this blatant conformity, which she does
at great risk, as she only alienates herself from everyone she knows, none of
whom are smart enough to understand her particular brand of satire, which goes
completely over their heads. Enid
changes her outfits and looks throughout, making a post modernist fashion
statement on the 70’s punk rebellion, complete with green hair, while just as
easily shifting to the chic Audrey Hepburn look of the 1960’s.
The irony of it all, despite being among the most clever
students, Enid’s graduation is contingent upon passing a make-up class over
summer school, having failed art class.
Enid has uncanny artistic talent on display, which we see in her diary
notebook, which is largely a collection of sketches, and the film itself seems
to be a series of vignettes conceived from her astutely keen observation
skills. Using deadpan wit to target
what’s supposed to be trendy and cool, initially the two friends continue their
same old pranks, where they visit a cute convenience store clerk, Josh (Brad
Renfro), harassing him for a ride in his car, torturing him with their girlish
attention, which is their way of liking a guy.
When they visit a local hang out together, it’s a fake 50’s diner that
plays rap music on the jukebox, otherwise surrounded by faceless establishments
like McDonald’s and Starbucks that litter the suburban landscape, where
whatever traits their town once displayed have been sucked out of existence by
consumer culture. On a lark, as they
have nothing better to do, they decide to harass a guy placing an ad in the
Personals, making fun of him, responding to his ad, and then watching him
suffer when no one comes to meet him, calling the guy an obvious dork,
especially when he gets pissed off afterwards.
But they see him again at a rummage sale and learn his name is Seymour,
Steve Buscemi in one of his best roles, a guy obsessed with old records, where
he has an unsurpassed collection of vintage 78’s, which have little to no use
to anyone other than himself.
Peculiarly, Enid finds this somewhat fascinating, as rather than a total
fuck up, like most deluded and vacuous guys obsessed with sports and Adidas
shoes, this guy knows his own interests.
While Seymour could just as easily be a Trekkie, he’s instead a hater of
over-produced commercial radio and thrives on authentic musical recordings,
knowing all the trivial details about lost and forgotten artists, much like these
disappearing towns that are being bought out by consumer retail outlets and
replicated chain stores.
Enid’s summer school class becomes interwoven with her life,
where her over-exuberant teacher, Illiana Douglas, is the exact opposite of the
more socially detached Enid, wearing her enthusiasm for
self-expression-as-the-meaning-of-art on her sleeve, literally pushing each
student to find their inner soul and express themselves. Enid keeps questioning her own identity,
showing a preference for the undiscovered world of Seymour’s vintage classics
to the contemporary music of her age.
Meanwhile Rebecca nags at Enid to find a job, as they’re planning to
move in together, but Enid can’t hold a job, as she’s simply too honest with
the customers and can’t understand how any self-respecting person would lower
themselves to the demeaning tasks required.
“It’s not optional!” she’s told when varying from the corporate research
designed customer script that attempts to manipulate the customer into spending
more money. Enid desperately tries to
maintain her integrity when all around her people are losing theirs, including
her best friend who finds it much easier to sell out to corporate culture. Enid is a throwback to Holden Caulfield in The Catcher in the Rye, perhaps
universally adored for his refusal to become a phony or submit to the growing
adult hypocrisy surrounding him, holding fast to principles easily surrendered
by everybody else, including family and friends. The ultimate tragedy, perhaps best expressed
by Jason Robards in A THOUSAND CLOWNS (1965), is caving in to the generic
conventionality of corporate submission in a mass culture that refuses to
embrace originality. Capturing the
provocative tone of the underground comic, a film where a clueless video store
clerk thinks 9 ½ WEEKS is the same as Fellini's movie 8 ½, Enid is endearingly
original, but in life after high school, society has no place for her,
reflected in her inability to pass art class, the subject that she actually
excels in. Underlying the laughs and the
satiric wit are superb performances by Thora Birch and Steve Buscemi, both of
whom are at their best here, each on the outer fringe struggling to find a
place in the world, both all the more lovable for it.
