Comedic cult classics establish a genre of their own

*Editor’s Note: This piece is a continuation of last week’s article, “‘Puzzle films’ and other cult classics invite contemplation.”*

With the death of Matthew Perry last week, an irrefutable truth has risen to the surface: film, television and visual mediums affect us much more than most people care to admit. Visuals comfort us; they provoke us; they make us cherish people who exist behind a screen (or not at all).

This week, I’m covering the last two categories in my cult classics series. These five films have remarkably memorable characters, and by default, remarkably memorable actors and actresses. I will likely never know Winona Ryder, Lisa Kudrow, Jeff Bridges or Thora Birch, but I can appreciate the legacy they left behind—just like Matthew Perry.

**GENRE: DARK COMEDY/DRAMA**

**Heathers (1989)**

Step aside, Mean Girls: “The Plastics” have a predecessor, and they’re three girls who are all named Heather.

“Heathers” rests on such a dark plot that it’s hard to even know how the movie got made. When the fourth member of the Heathers clique, Veronica (Winona Ryder), temporarily finds herself blindsided by the allure of her new boyfriend, she soon discovers who he really is—a narcissist plotting the murder of all the popular kids in school under the guise of suicide. Nothing quite captures the complexity of that sentence like one of the lines in the movie: “Dear Diary, my teenage angst bulls*** has a body count!”

Winona Ryder has always been an extremely likable actress to me, and she really shines through in this film even though she was only 16 at the time. Her doe-eyed appearance makes her take-no-bullshit attitude all the more reason to root for her, and I find it extremely endearing that she liked the script so much she actually volunteered to do the role for free.

I like that this movie casts actual teens; too many high school shows and films have actors and actresses well into their twenties and thirties. I also like the extremely brash dialogue—many of which has language I can’t put in this review, for censoring reasons—because it feels original. However, I can see why this movie is a hard swallow for some people; you’ve really got to be able to stomach heavy topics with a light heart.

Nevertheless, “Heathers” always stays on my mind after I watch it; it’s simultaneously unpredictable and one-of-a-kind. In fact, after viewing it for the first time, I experienced a feeling that was so foreign to me I actually had to force myself back into reality: the feeling of wanting to write a screenplay.

**Fargo (1996)**

In high school, my English teacher showed our class the clip of “Fargo” that remains its most popular to this day: a white Minnesotan landscape drenched in blood, thanks to a criminal putting his accomplice’s body through the wood chipper.

The premise of “Fargo” is this: car salesman Jerry Lundegaard (William H. Macy) is so in debt, he creates a kidnapping scheme where the victim is his own wife. However, the crime doesn’t go as planned, as Lundegaard’s hired thugs soon pile up innocent bodies, Lundegaard’s father-in-law gets involved and pregnant cop Marge Gunderson (Frances McDormand) casually puts two and two together.

Filled to the brim with exaggerated Minnesotan accents, “Fargo” is probably my least favorite of all the cult classics I reviewed, but it still deserves to be included. Frances McDormand really steals the frames, especially because I often think of her occupying more stern, wooden roles, like Lucinda Krementz in “The French Dispatch.”

The reason why I think “Fargo” remains a cult classic echoes a statement I once read about the directors, the Coen brothers: they create a world where all their characters are a little out of touch with what’s “normal,” therefore producing a society in which the characters can act odd and it’s still not something the other citizens would think twice about. The level in which “Fargo” does this is remarkable, and that takes an eye of precision.

**Ghost World (2001)**

You know the scrutinizing teenager trope, but you haven’t seen it done yet like Thora Birch’s Enid in “Ghost World.”

While reminding me of a personified Tina from Bob’s Burgers (except with better fashion), Enid is a recent high-school graduate who doesn’t have plans to go to college, get a job or follow her passions. She’s a cynical, outspoken, sometimes cruel outsider who spends all her time with her monotoned best friend Rebecca (Scarlett Johansson), until it becomes clear that Rebecca is way more motivated to move onto adult life than she is.

The only person besides Rebecca who makes Enid feel a little less lonely is Seymour (Steve Buscemi), who is based on the director of “Ghost World” himself. He’s lonely too, but he’s mostly OK with it; he’s not willing to compromise his passions to be liked. Everyone else thinks Seymour’s a weird middle-aged loser, but Enid recognizes his authenticity.

“Ghost World” is a movie that specializes in microexpressions. The subtle twists of Enid’s face and voice are only noticeable if you look for them—which feels really true to her character. The humor is deadpan and the dialogue is laden with “totally”s and early 2000s slang. My favorite parts include the eccentric-to-the-point-where-you-roll-your-eyes art professor, the Skip James song that Enid listens to over and over again and the jumpscare appearance of David Cross, who, I’m sorry, will never be anyone else to me but Tobias from “Arrested Development.”

“Ghost World” tells the story of trying to find your foothold in a time and place where there’s constant distraction and obstacles. It doesn’t feel linear, it feels cyclical—like a timeless series of events I’ve watched again and again and again.

**GENRE: COMEDY/BUDDY**

**Romy and Michele’s High School Reunion (1997)**

At 28, Romy (Mira Sorvino) and Michele (Lisa Kudrow) catch wind of their 10-year high school reunion. They both want to go, but neither feels they have done anything particularly spectacular since graduating, so the girls come up with a series of lies to tell their classmates. By the time the duo walk into the doors of their old high school, they are capital-B Businesswomen, they invented Post-its and they are much more successful than you ever were.

Kudrow and Sorvino inhabit their quirky characters so well it’s like a second skin. Kudrow is widely known for her ditzy roles in which she overuses “you know” in the middle of sentences and scoffs disguised as chuckles. Sorvino’s pseudo Valley-girl voice and mischievous upper lip complete the picture of two women delightfully oblivious to the world around them—whose greatest joy is to exist as themselves.

It’s not a tale of romance, or even of revenge; it’s a celebration of female friendship—specifically “how women talk when men aren’t around,” according to writer Robin Schiff. And it’s can’t-keep-a-smile-off-your-face ridiculous.

**The Big Lebowski (1998)**

Brought to us by the same directors as “Fargo,” “The Big Lebowski” rests on characters who are also slightly out of touch with reality, producing hilarious lines and relationships. You’ve got a guy who only likes to be called “The Dude” (Jeff Bridges), his friend who can and will relate anything to the Vietnam war (John Goodman) and a sex-driven artist who often paints in the nude (Julianne Moore).

“The Big Lebowski” tells the story of “The Dude”—whose real name is Jeff Lebowski— and the series of events that happen after he gets mistaken for another, much more affluent Jeff Lebowski.

A stoner, slacker, cardigan-wearing lover of his rug, “The Dude” fulfills the role of the ultimate anti-hero. He’s not courageous, or even particularly motivated; instead, Bridges plays “The Dude” with a carefully articulated unbotheredness that follows him both through regular bowling alley play and violent interactions with criminals. His performance even inspired a religion titled “Dudeism” with more than 130,000 online-ordained ‘Dudeist Priests.’ What can I say, except: The Dude abides.

“The Big Lebowski” is a niche blend of comedy and drama with influences of old-school Westerns. Truly, the Coen brothers have mastered their own strange genre, and “The Big Lebowski” is proof.

**Concluding Thoughts**

If these cult classics have taught me anything, it’s that Steve Buscemi must get phone calls to play in unconventional movies more than anybody else. I mean, seriously—how’d I review 16 completely distinct films and he’s in a fourth of them? His face is literally everywhere; and I’m not just talking about the time I replaced all my brother’s photos in my house with his portrait.

The other thought I had is that not all of these movies were an enjoyable watch, but they all left an impression on me that wouldn’t have happened if they were “normal.” From “The Rocky Horror Picture Show” to “Donnie Darko,” these films have a “cult” following because they either provide solace in the unordinary, depict the Other, or promote social change by showing the uncomfortability in complacency.

Cult classics skate over the reliable and the standard to be mind-blowing and outrageous, and to that I say: conventionality never did much for me anyways.