When capturing the social awkwardness of being a teenager, films tend to play up the misjudged social dynamics of the young for cringe-inducing laughs. But for anybody who has been a socially awkward 13-year-old, they’ll know that even being separated from that moment in time by quite some distance doesn’t do anything to reduce the anxiety-inducing horrors of those years in retrospect.
Eighth Grade, the directorial debut of comedian Bo Burnham, is the stuff of nightmares for anybody whose adolescence was defined by “not fitting in” – a document of a new era where popularity is all the more important due to the ubiquity of Instagram, Snapchat, and other apps where you are effectively marked on your appearance and amount of followers.
Teenage years through a lens of social anxiety
Eighth Grade is, first and foremost, a charming coming of age comedy, that is never judgmental towards its lead character despite her adolescent mistakes; in fact, it’s far too wholesome to even be mentioned in the same breath as its closest narrative analogue, Todd Solondz’ dyspeptic 1995 film Welcome to the Dollhouse. But despite a more optimistic outlook (although, who doesn’t have a more optimistic outlook than Todd Solondz?), it’s similarly blunt about the social anxieties of not conforming to the popular crowd, and the distressing effects that has during your school years. If it weren’t so frequently funny, this would be the defining horror film of 2018.
Kayla (Elsie Fisher) is a thirteen year old girl nearing the end of her final semester in Eighth Grade, and in turn, the final semester at Junior High. She’s not bullied by other kids so much as she’s largely ignored; she regularly sits alone with no friends to talk to, and her hobbies include vlogging on a YouTube channel nobody watches. And yet, despite this, she has the same hang ups as the popular kids; obsessed with social media and presenting an idealised version of herself to the world, lying about personal traits in lacklustre attempts to speak to boys and attempting to become friendly with a popular crowd where a wholesome individual like herself would struggle to fit in.
On the request of her father (Josh Hamilton), she attends a pool party for a popular girl that she’s been invited to largely due to that girl’s mother being a friend of her family – and from there, an ill-fated mission to rid herself of anxiety and receive acceptance from her peers begins.
Burnham wrote the screenplay in addition to directing, but like all of the best teen films, it doesn’t feel written so much as it feels observed. The film opens with one of Kayla’s vlogs, which we watch at various intervals throughout the film, which keenly establishes the unusual dialogue rhythms; there’s something recognisably Altman-esque about Burnham’s preference for including as many “um’s” and “ah’s” within the dialogue as possible, as we are treated to semi-coherent trains of thought that feel like they’ve been ripped out of the diary pages of a 13-year-old girl.
These vlogs may be awkward to the point of instant hilarity, but as with all the comedy in the film, you are never laughing at Kayla; in her most awkward moments, she effectively becomes a cipher for teenage embarrassment across the ages, due to how painfully recognisable her efforts to fit in appear. She’s one of the most empathetic screen characters you’re likely to meet this year – a girl whose upbeat positivity is compromised by an unrelenting anxiety, who you can’t help but want to grow up and find the right crowd to fall in with, instead of chasing friendship in the wrong places.
Eighth Grade offers important life lessons teen movies neglect to mention
Cinema is always treating us to an idealised version of high school years; where models in their mid-twenties are playing teens, and (in a “male fantasy” trope mercifully becoming less popular), even the nerdiest students manage to get laid. Burnham has no interest in presenting us with an idealised youth. He presents Fisher in extreme close-up without makeup for a significant portion of the film – there’s something silently revolutionary about seeing a normal girl, often presented with acne scars taking over the whole screen, when we’re used to airbrushed characters whose appearances effectively perpetuate unrealistic beauty standards that are harmful for younger viewers.
That we see Kayla obsess over her image, projecting manipulated images of herself across social media and obfuscating her own personality in the process, further hammers home why this film is essential for young girls right now. It speaks so directly to a generation immersed in social media, there are certain moments that may feel innocuous to younger viewers (an Orinoco Flow soundtracked montage of Kayla wasting too much time on different apps, the most memorable use of that song since David Fincher’s Girl with the Dragon Tattoo remake) which have a distinct Cronenbergian flavour to older ones.
As for the way the film addresses sex, Burnham pulls off the tricky tightrope walk of being blunt, without lapsing into being exploitative. Kayla is at the stage of early adolescence where she’s interested in boys, but not yet arrived at the stage where sex is a thing she wants or desires – something Burnham manages to depict hilariously, as this penny drop moment comes after Kayla realises (of all things) that she is repulsed by eating bananas.
Coming of age movies have a tendency to focus extensively on the failed attempts at sexual maturity that are a fixture of adolescence; to have a character realise this isn’t what she wants, choosing a friendship with a boy over anything with additional ramifications, is another message films aimed at this demographic choose to ignore. Again, there is a bluntness to this reality, manifested in a harrowing car ride sequence that will likely gestate in viewers’ imaginations as one of the most powerful cinematic moments of the #MeToo era.
It’s an undeniably horrifying moment (scarier than anything in A24’s other notable recent release, Hereditary), but not one included for exploitation’s sake. As a warning for young women to watch out for guys using manipulative tactics to get them into uncomfortable situations, it feels extensively researched and carefully considered prior to its inclusion – and vital to Kayla’s growth as a character. A necessary message in a film defined by the essential lessons and observations other films shy away from showing, in order to perpetuate a harmfully unrealistic view of teenage life.
Eighth Grade: Conclusion
Burnham’s screenplay doesn’t just feel attuned to the mindset of 13-year-old girls like Kayla – it feels like a paean to embracing the final moments of childlike innocence, instead of rushing to grow up. At times, Eighth Grade is so painfully real it’s only possible to watch through your fingers, while in others, it’s so pure in its positive outlook that its hard not to smile along with it. It’s the messiness of the teenage experience confidently articulated by a first time filmmaker with an innately humanist streak and a bright directorial future ahead of him.
What did you think of Burnham’s portrayal of adolescence in Eighth Grade? Tell us your thoughts in the comments below!
Eighth Grade will be released in the US on July 13, 2018. For all international release dates, see here.
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