Clueless

All of us have that movie for which we know every line of dialogue word-for-word. The movie that makes us abrasively irritating to friends and neighbors who just want to watch the damn movie and less-than-kindly demand for us to shut up already. The movie we can watch again and again without becoming bored, reveling in noticing delightful little touches we may have missed in our previous 364 viewings.

For me, Clueless is that movie.

I'll let you in on a little secret, just between us. Even though I loved this movie unconditionally from the first viewing, I will be forthcoming in my admission that I had no clue whatsoever what was going on. You might say, in fact, that I myself was clueless when it came to Clueless. Well, I might say that. You probably would spare yourself the embarrassment of making such a lame, hackneyed attempt of a joke. I, on the other hand, will shamelessly go for it.

The movie came out when I was in fourth grade, and I immediately and devoutly worshiped Cher Horowitz with ever fiber of my being. In the mid-90s, we were all about voyeurism in observing how the other half lived. Or, perhaps more accurately, how the media portrayed the wildly wealthy. Shows like Beverly Hills 90210 ruled the airwaves, with preteens and adolescents desperately coveting the undeniable coolness their privileged lifestyle commanded.



How can you not smile at that delivery? In the debate scene, Alicia Silverstone unintentionally pronounced Haitians as Haiti-ans, but it was so perfect for the role of Cher that no one bothered to correct her. Really, could she have been a more perfect casting choice?

That trailer is filled with some seriously credible 90s nostalgic goodness. That scene at the end in gym class, where Amber claims to be excused because her plastic surgeon doesn't want her doing anything where balls fly at her nose? And Dionne says, "There goes your social life"? That line alone took me about 5 years until I had my "ohhhhhh" moment of facepalming realization and retrospective blushing that I'd watched the move so many times with my parents.

Amy Heckerling, the teen-genre genius behind 80s classic Fast Times at Ridgemount High, took a smarter route to exposing and humanizing the teenage children of the rich and the famous. Clueless's dialogue may have sounded vapid and substance free, but beneath the veneer of superficiality and teenage drama lay a truly smart, well-conceived film. Heckerling loosely based the screenplay on Jane Austen's Emma, updating both the setting and characters to star the gum-snapping, credit-card wielding teens of Beverly Hills.

Like her Austen counterpart, Cher is utterly self-absorbed and spoiled but with generally good intentions to her scheming. She is undeniably likable as a character. She's sweet, she's funny, and she singlehandedly managed to bring knee-high socks back into vogue. What's not to like?




The film opens with The Muff's song "Kids in America" blaring, as well-groomed attractive teenagers cruise carefreely down the streets of Beverly Hills, go shopping, party, and frolic by a waterfall-type pool that would make the Playboy Mansion's grotto blush.

Cher is quick to cut the moment, though. Her voice-over muses, "So okay, you're probably thinking, is this, like a Noxema commercial, or what? But seriously, I actually have a way normal life for a teenage girl. I mean I get up, I brush my teeth, and I pick out my school clothes." For Cher, however, picking out her school clothes entails using an enviable and no doubt advanced for its time wardrobe matching computer program and the best remote controlled scrolling closet this side of Girls Just Wanna Have Fun.


In a seriously condensed period of time, we learn a lot about Cher Horowitz and her lavish lifestyle. We meet her best friend Dionne, to whom she relates because a) they both know what it's like to have people be jealous of them and b) they were both named for singing superstars of the past who now do late-night infomercials. At school, we get to see a veritable range of 90s social groups, though of course grungy flannel is a popular theme. Cher learns she got a C in debate, dragging down her academic average. We also meet Josh, the ever-hunky Paul Rudd as Cher's ex-step brother and initial pain-in-the-ass granola-munching housemate.


Cher and her gang have a fabulous way of coining their entire own system of teen-centric terminology. Indeed, after the movie's sleeper hit status was confirmed, you could hardly enter the hallowed halls of any high school without hearing at least an occasional "Whatever!" or "As if!" Alicia Silverstone nails the doe-eyed tongue-in-cheek delivery of her airhead lines. She plays the part to perfection, letting us as the audience know that no, she's not really an airhead, she just plays one in high school. In actuality, Cher's no dummy. She manages to successfully trail in her father's litigator (the scariest kind of lawyer) footsteps by renegotiating most of her undesirable grades. Talk about results.

Dionne and Cher are well-meaning meddlers, as we see them trying to fix up two lonely single teachers at their school early in the movie. They also come upon an ugly duckling of a fish-out-of-water new student (sorry, I ran out of pond creature idioms) Tai, whose less-than-stellar appearance prompts them to do a major overhauling makeover to secure Tai's social standing at school.

Tai initially is warm to the form of slacker skateboarder Travis, but Cher vetoes that route as she's certain that if Tai starts dating the social climbing cretin Elton she'll no doubt claim a place in the A-crowd. This plan, however, goes awry when Elton expresses his feelings for Cher, to which she responds by storming out of his car in the middle of God knows where. She not only gets robbed, but is forced to lay on the ground in an Alaia for heaven's sake. An Alaia! I can't even fathom.*

I have distinct memories of seriously coveting that outfit of Tai's to biblical proportions. Now, well, not so much.

Cher, meanwhile, has fallen for new student Christian in a big way. She sends herself chocolate and flowers and wears revealing clothing in an attempt to win his affection. Her efforts, unfortunately, seem to be for naught as she's completely oblivious to the otherwise obvious fact that Christian is gay. If that weren't enough, Tai's supposedly traumatizing near-death experience at the mall suddenly makes her the toast of the school's social scene, leaving Cher to contemplate if she's perhaps created a well-coiffed monster. On top of it all, Cher also fails her driving test in the one moment of her life she can't seem to talk or charm her way out of.

In an effort to clear her head, she heads out shopping and comes to the Celine Dion and lit-fountain punctuated moment of realization that she is actually in love with her step-brother Josh. Okay, ex-step brother, but still. I mean, yeah, they're not blood related, but their parents were once matrimonially bound. It's a bit on the skeevy side.

It gets a little awkward around home as she suddenly is unsure of how to act in his once-maligned presence. Cher throws herself into the goal of becoming a better person in her attempt to distract herself from her crumbling personal life. It's all really kind of sweet in a completely out-of-touch with reality way. Like donating your expensive skis to a disaster relief aid collection? Probably not at the top of their list. Oh well. It's the thought that counts.

All's well that ends well, luckily, as Cher and Josh eventually confess their mutual if awkwardly familial feelings toward one another, and the two lonelyhearts teachers from the initial set-up are wed in a sweet concluding ceremony. Tai and Travis finally get together, Dionne makes at least temporary peace with her boyfriend Murray, and Josh and Cher are finally together after a long and painfully tense period of anticipation.



Alright, so maybe it's not real life. But that's the real fun of it. Clueless was more than just a modern reuptake on a classic. It was a film that briefly defined a fledgling generation teetering on the brink of a shift from grunge flannel and heroin chic to mainstream preppy teenybopperyism.** It was better than real life. The people were better looking and better attired, the setting was covetable, and the money was free flowing. It was a well-grounded fantasy that spurned a thousand Cher wannabes.

And of course, I just can't give you a full in-depth post on Clueless without posting (well, reposting) one of my personal faves: a Golden Girls Clueless spoof from the 1996 MTV Video Awards. I just can't in good conscience let you off the hook without enjoying some good old fashioned satire with jokes at the expense of some very comically talented elderly ladies. Enjoy responsibly.






*For those of you who don't know, she's like a totally important designer
**This is not a word. Just deal with it.

Alanis Morissette

Some career transformations are subtle as artists gradually and organically transition from one style to another over an extended period of time. Others are, let's say, not so nuanced. Such was the case of Alanis Morissette, whose career began as a Canadian mall-haired teen queen a la Tiffany or Debbie Gibson. At one point she was actually opening for Vanilla Ice, for heaven's sake. It's a pretty far cry from the Alanis the rest of the world met in the mid-90s, but for a stretch of time in the first half of the decade Alanis reigned as a cheesy dance-beat pop artist in America's hat.*

At 12, Alanis debuted as a regular cast member on one season of the the Nickelodeon tween sketch comedy show You Can't Do That on Television. It's not exactly the thing that angry-chick musicians are made of, I'll give you that. She started her career as a squeaky-clean, happy preteen in this slime-splattered comedy spot. Well, clean other than her very convincing fake vomiting at the end of this clip:



In 1990 at age 14 she moved on to show her, er, pop potential on the original America's Got Talent, Star Search. Be warned, for those of you familiar with a different, darker, more ironic Alanis, this may be quite the shock. While I do admire her general boppiness and the confidence it no doubt took to don that polka-dotted puffy sleeved midriff baring jacket, it's a far cry from the Alanis the rest of the world met a few years later.



Just one year later and released under her original Cher slash Madonna-esque stage name of Alanis, her first single "Too Hot" performed relatively well in the Canadian market. In this awesomely bad 90s music video, Alanis demonstrates a both surprising command of snappy dance moves and a serious lead finger on her can of Aquanet. The album was not released internationally, but from what I've been told it was pretty big in Canada. Take a look at this video and you can definitely see where the Tiffany comparisons come in.



A year later, yearning to show her more substantial side, Alanis released a more ballad-heavy album. The Canadian teen sensation's star seemed to be on the wane, as sales numbers fell off significantly from her first album. I guess they liked the Tiffany Alanis better. No one, however, or at least no Canadians, would likely have foreseen what was to come next for Alanis Morissette.

Flash forward just a few short years to the release of her angst-ridden album Jagged Little Pill, her first record to be released outside of Canada, and I'm sure you'll see why her musical transformation can be classified as less than subtle. Much less than subtle. Really, not subtle at all. Is there such a word as unsubtlest? If not, I move to add it on the basis of Alanis's incredible career 180.

On sort of a fluke, her single "You Outta Know" started getting some serious radio airtime following the lead of an LA DJ's broadcast of the song. For most of us, this was all well and good and we had little prior knowledge of bubble-gum pop Alanis, but I can only imagine what those poor Canadians were thinking about their coiffured pop princess when they heard this:

Alanis Morissette - New Music - More Music Videos

I apologize for making you sit through the preceding ad, but hey, this comes from MTV. We have to deal with what we're dealt here. Thanks for your understanding.

Well, that's a little, um, different, wouldn't you say? "Too Hot" to this? Is that really any form of logical leap? I guess if you want to shake the Debbie Gibson and Tiffany comparisons, this is probably the safest route. This was pretty edgy stuff for mainstream music, after all. It did fit in nicely with the mid-90s flannel wearing coming of age of a cynical Generation X. Assuming, that is, that they'd never seen any of Alanis's previous work. I can't imagine that widespread international knowledge of that "Too Hot" video would bolster her bitter 90s angst street credibility much.

The best part about this song, however, was in the speculation on the subject matter. Just who was this guy who inspired Alanis to spew such angry vocals? There were a lot of different names thrown into the mix, but by far the most prevalent prognosis was that this song's mysterious Mr. Wrong was none other than Full House's Dave Coulier. Yep, Uncle Joey of the Hawaiian Shirts, the "Cut. It. Out." hand motions, and insufferable woodchuck impressions. I'm sorry, what? That guy? Geez, Alanis, pull yourself together. Our jury at Snopes are still out on the verdict, but as far as rumors go this one has got to be one of the strangest. And, let's be honest, most embarrassing.

Jagged Little Pill gave Alanis a number of mid-level singles like "Hand in My Pocket", but her next big moment came in the form of the release of her single for "Ironic":



This song had to be by far one of the primary leading contributors to middle school students' collective misunderstanding of the literary notion of irony. According to the song, it seems irony is nothing more than a series of unfortunate inconveniences. While her examples certainly aren't welcome life circumstances ("10,000 spoons when all you need is a knife"), the are not ironic by any stretch of definition of the term. If nothing else, the real irony was that she managed to release a song entitled "Ironic" that claimed to showcase numerous incidences of irony while in reality none were ironic in the least. Now that's a bit ironic. Don't you think?

The album enjoyed a pretty substantial shelf-life, giving her two additional Billboard-worthy singles in "Head Over Feet" and "You Learn". "You Learn" contained the album's eponymous line, "swallow it down, what a jagged little pill/ It feels so good swimming in your stomach". It's a pretty far cry from "Too Hot", I must say.

Alanis Morissette - You Learn
Uploaded by magik-man2. - Explore more music videos.

This was, of course, not the last we heard from Alanis Morissette. I'm sure any die-hard fans can tell you not only of her 90s trailblazing ways for angry female singers, but of her subsequent album releases that I'm sure were also worth listening to despite the fact that I have yet to do so. There were happier, less angst-ridden incarnations of Alanis in the earlier part of this decade, but she will undoubtedly be most remembered for her mid-90s reign as a strong, bitter female talent. Which is probably for the best, really. I mean, would you want to be remembered for "Too Hot"? That's what I thought.




*I'm sorry, some of you may know this territory as Canada.

Tickle-Me Elmo

"I was pulled under, trampled—the crotch was yanked out of my brand-new jeans [. . .] I was kicked with a white Adidas before I became unconscious."

Sounds pretty scary right? So what was it? Soccer hooligan riot? Controversial political protest gone awry? Student demonstration gone violent?

Or, a race for $28.99 worth of pulsating synthetic fur?

If you answered D, then congratulations. You're a witness to the soulless materialism of sheeplike 90s suburban parents. Yes, that right. Innocent unsuspecting shop clerks were trampled and concussed all for the unworthy cause of an overpriced, overrated toy. Something tells me that guy wasn't laughing nearly as much as these toys. Or TYCO, for that matter. I'm sure we can all imagine that journey to the bank involved a lot of uncontrollable giggling. And I mean all the way there.


Though I was a bit too old (and let's be real here, too cool) to have any remote desire for a Sesame Street themed toy in 1996, I was perplexed and amazed by the impact this single plaything had on our fair nation. Every couple of years or so, a toy comes on to the market that takes off in an unanticipated and astronomical way. While usually the trajectory of a toy's success is pretty stable, every once in a while one comes along that becomes an absolute hands-down no-two-ways-about-it must have item. As in we've got people trading black market kidneys for these things.

It also seems that once this path of toy-crazed destruction begins, it can not be stopped. No rational intervention of any kind seems enough to quell the unquenchable desire to one-up our neighbors. It became about the principle of the thing--or in this case, the lack thereof. People went completely insane, manic under the spell of owning the most coveted holiday item of the year. Congratulations, you Jiminy Cricket-less bastards.



The best part of the whole shebang was the Sophacles-level of irony hiding just beneath the surface. Elmo, as a character, was the ultimate prototype for sweet, kind, good-natured innocence. Never in a million years would he engage in any type of violence--he was a monster in name and bodily fluffiness alone. These were values people wanted to pass down to their kids. So much so, in fact, that they were willing to completely disregard these same values in their unbridled bloodlust for these toys. Smooth move, parents.

I'm sure if my parents had trampled some poor shmoe down at Toys 'R Us without so much asking after his broken bones and resultant disfigurement, I'd be pretty pleased. After all, I'd have Elmo as my moral guide. That pretty much makes up for it, right?

Too bad our Tickle-Me pal didn't offer much in the way of substance, or even any type of real underlying value. Take a look at the toy in question in its natural habitat in its depiction in the original 1996 ad:



What? Really? We're trampling people for that? That thing sort of...sucks. It's not really exceptional in any way. I mean, yeah, it shakes. Great. It laughs in a horribly irritating high-pitched tone. Remind me again why we all want one of these?

Oh, right. Because we're slaves to a competition-driven consumer society. I'd almost forgotten. I suppose if you really get down to it, the vibration was marginally high-tech for the time. It used similar technology to the type of feedback you get now on your Wii when you run over a penguin in Mario Kart*. It was kind of cute in a "I see this thing every day on TV but don't really need one in my own home" sort of way. It didn't seem to have all that much going for it substance-wise outside of the ample hype.

Keep in mind this was not the only Elmo doll on the market. There were dozens of others that for some reason or other had failed to become the almighty chosen one for the holiday season. That vibrating censor and voice chip was just the tipping point to drive this toy to phenomenon status. People who'd been lucky enough to buy one before the craze took over everything and everyone made out pretty nicely overall on the deal. These toys were selling in unofficial markets for upwards of $1000. I'm sorry, if you missed that, that sum was $1000. Given, this was the 90s and the economic climate was a bit less dire, but geez. No wonder people hate America. I blame Tickle-Me Elmo.**


Just like any craze, the hysteria subsided almost as quickly as it had crested. TYCO tried to quickly cash in on the brand by offering up a whole line of Tickle-Me Sesame Street friends, but it seems everyone had had just about as much tickling as they could take. It was time to lay the concept to rest, especially if we ever wanted our late-night talk show hosts to joke about anything else.

This was not, however, the last we saw of Tickle Me Elmo. In 2006, the 10th anniversary of the original release, Fisher Price unleashed TMX limited edition Tickle Me Elmo Extreme. Yep, extreme.



Okay, that one was too creepy, even for me? What's with the Cheaters/Cops-grade blurring? What exactly are they hiding? Let's try that one more time:



Nope, I was right the first time. Still creepy.



*What? I'm really bad at Mario Kart.
**Remember, if you don't buy a Tickle-Me Elmo, the terrorists win.