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Strange industry, cinema. Trying to make sense of its often chaotic patterns can be as difficult as looking for a road map to Ypslanti in the lines of your palm. For instance, who could have predicted that currently one of the more noticeable trends in movies would be the emergence of cheerleading as a frequently used plot device? And we're not talking exclusively about such decade-spanning sex/horror/chopsocky/youthmarket exploitation as Cheerleaders' Naughty Weekend (1979), Cheerleader Camp a.k.a. Bloody Pompoms (1987), Cheerleader Ninjas (1998), or even movie/TV cheerleader-turned-slayer Buffy. Films ranging from surprisingly innocuous to Oscar-worthy -- The Replacements, But I'm a Cheerleader, American Beauty -- have relied heavily on the "Two Bits" bit. And now this. What gives?
Other than to suggest that maybe it's part of some insidious Scientology plot, I have no idea.
Bring It On is a much better movie than it has a right to be. That's largely because it stars Kirsten Dunst, who earned a Golden Globe nomination for her riveting Interview with the Vampire performance. And it was smartly written by former MTV staffer Jessica Bendinger - you may be tired of hearing this, but women really do bring an alternative viewpoint to a production, whatever the topic* -- who initially wanted to do a documentary on the subject but adjusted her sights when the music channel balked.
Dunst plays Torrance Shipman (is that the latest trend from the left coast - name your child after a Los Angeles suburb? "Hello, these are our daughters Glendora and Yorba Linda, and that's our son, Rancho Cucamonga."), newly elected captain of her San Diego high school rah squad. They've won five consecutive national cheering championships and are confident of a sixth until they learn their former captain had been driving north to swipe routines from the hip-hop pep-ers of an inner city L.A. school. Which becomes a problem when said school's 'tude-packing cheerleaders not only confront them at one of their own football games, but finally get the money to travel to the Daytona nationals themselves. And to top it all off, Torrance is having boyfriend trouble.
Director Peyton Reed, who to date is best known for doing made-for-TV remakes of Disney films and sketchcom series "Mr. Show" and "The Upright Citizen's Brigade," has created a goofy setting that's a little Fast Times at Ridgemont High, a little Clueless, and a whole lot of Will Ferrell's and Cheri Oteri's geeky faux cheerleaders from "Saturday Night Live." Surprisingly there's little in the way of egregious pom-pom references and not that much skin on display from Dunst and co-star Eliza Dushku (who plays evil slayer Faith on the WB's "Buffy") despite scenes set in the girls' locker room and at a car-wash fundraiser.
Now, if you'll forget about that last sentence and quit rolling your eyes long enough to listen, let me make one more argument in this movie's favor. Can you honestly say that you've never been cable-surfing and stopped for a minute after catching a glimpse of one of those cheer championships on ESPN? Nevermind that "cheerleaders are dancers who have gone retarded." There's something fascinating about the gymnastic circus of people flinging each other around in silly uniforms. Plus, what's not to admire about a director who not only ends his film with a remake of longtime choreographer, one-time singer Toni Basil's classic cheerleading video "Hey Mickey," but sticks a line in the credits that reads "Peyton Reed wears Converse tennis shoes and eats Krispy Kreme donuts"? Call it a guilty pleasure if you want, but I could recommend this to friends, regardless of age or gender, and not be worried they'd accuse me of having developed a fetish for short pleated skirts. B-
*This will be the last week of a little experiment you've unknowingly been party to. I've been going out of my way to mention that certain films, i.e. Loser and Coyote Ugly, give better-than-expected treatment to potentially trite subject matter thanks to being written and/or directed by a woman. Strictly in the interest of sociological truth, mind you, I wanted to see if emphasizing this point in print would lead women to think I'm really cool and broadminded and therefore call Creative Loafing to leave their phone numbers. So far, nothing to report. Unless - surely my editor wouldn't be the sort who would take messages and then forget to pass them on.
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