From the first strains of “Rock Around the Clock” in 1955’s Blackboard Jungle, high school has been the proving ground and arena for every major life event in a teenager’s life, but nowhere is it bleaker, grimmer and, dare I say, more authentic in the fantasy teens buy into than in Darren Stein’s Jawbreaker. His candy-coated black comedy out means Mean Girls while sending up the artifice of beauty, friendship and everything high school represents.
Three of Reagan High’s most popular girls are in a bit of a pickle: A birthday prank gone wrong leaves their best friend dead. Bent on covering up the crimes, an added wrinkle arises in wallflower Fern Mayo (Judy Greer) who has overheard the trio discussing the murder. Offered the gift of popularity in exchange for her silence, Fern discovers popularity might be worse than her invisibility.
I discovered Jawbreaker upon video release in 1999. I was 11-years-old and while the R-rated material probably wasn’t suited for my virgin ears I was entranced by Reagan High’s glossy, dreamy world and its popular clique who travel with their own theme music (whether part of the soundtrack or not). To me, this was what high school truly was, a dog eat dog world where beauty ruled with ferocity and everyone danced around it.
“First, you need to know something about them. The beautiful ones. The flawless four. Everyone wanted to be them. You know ’em, they went to your high school too.” The flawless four is soon down to three and the first half is devoted to the girls’ scheming to cover up their plans in a way that’s as sharply written as it is acted. Rose McGowan is a bit of a social media punching bag (and feminist crusader…hence the punching bag) today, but as the nefarious queen bee Courtney Shayne she’s as frightening as she is fashionable. There’s an unspoken fear that Courtney knows a bit too much about covering up a murder, starting with faking a phone call from Liz’s mother to cover up her absence. After that it’s all about rigging the narrative to cast off suspicion.
In a fashion similar to Sunset Boulevard, the film starts with a disembodied narrator and a murder. The beautiful Liz Purr (Charlotte Ayanna), the only cat without nine lives, discovers “that’s no way to wake up on your 17th birthday” when she’s bound and gagged by unseen assailants. It turns out said assailants are her three best friends who presumably play pranks on each other during their birthdays. The panicking sets in when they discover Liz has choked on a jawbreaker used to muffle her screams. “I thought a jawbreaker would be funny,” Courtney claims.
Darren Stein’s script has several moments of pointed social commentary, particularly in Courtney’s summation of who to blame for Liz’s death. Reagan High’s world exists in a vacuum where children, whether they look 25 or not, are blithely left home alone to engage in high school shenanigans that might possibly include murder. Liz’s death symbolizes “[parents’] worst nightmare; Elizabeth Purr, the very picture of teenage perfection obliterated by perversion.” The adults, what few populate the landscape, are presented as inept (Carol Kane’s delightfully dithering principle Ms. Sherwood) or unwilling to put up with the BS the kids spout. In the case of the latter you have the no-nonsense Detective Cruz played by Pam Grier. Grier’s Vera sees right through the girls and it’s a shame Stein never concludes her plotline.
It’s difficult topping McGowan’s cool malice, and I can’t stress enough how amazing the fashion is, a blend of supermodel chic with the teen adoration of a Delia’s catalog. McGowan can be pleasant, manipulative, and downright cruel. As Fern says, “she’s so cruel, and she’s only in high school!” Julie Benz is bubbly fun, if a bit of a third wheel as Marcie Fox. Rebecca Gayheart and Judy Greer take the reins as Julie and the aforementioned Fern. Gayheart is drop-dead beautiful with an inner core of sensitivity that makes her approachable. Greer is the frightened little mouse, but when her inner bitch comes out as Vylette, watch out! If you think Greer can’t be mean, give this a watch.
“This is high school, Detective Cruz. What is a friend anyway?” For Stein, a friend in high school is only there for the prestige, and there’s always a better “friend” who can do more for you. It isn’t until the discontented Julie and Fern team up that anything remotely passing for real friendship can grow, and despite that Julie and Fern unite out of their mutual exclusion.
Stein cast actors as if this was a ’70s movie, so the “high schoolers” are all old enough to buy alcohol. And, drawing from that pool of teen movies, 1970s stars Jeff Conaway, P.J. Soles and William Katt all make cameos as parents to lend an air of authenticity and a passing of the torch.
Because it’s a 1990s teen movie, everything comes together at prom, though exposing a murderer is far more important than wondering who wins prom queen; Stein pulls off both, with the Donnas as the house band, no less! (Speaking of, you could do a whole article about movies where the Donnas were the band.)
Jawbreaker remains a wickedly fun and subversive high school movie, up there with the equally underrated Drop Dead Gorgeous and Sugar and Spice. The cast is pure ’90s chic, the humor is pure black, and there’s nothing else like it.
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