"Face it, the '90s are back," appeared on my Facebook feed, along with a photo of Alice in Chains and the caption "Can you guess which grunge band this is?"
I'll leave to my Twitter account my essay on why Alice in Chains ain't no fucking grunge band, but let's focus on each generation's obsession with retro. It took me awhile to figure it out, but it comes down to this: No one wants to grow up.
Nostalgia for past decades usually surfaces about 15-20 years after whatever decade is then being celebrated. This is so newly hatched adults can feel attached to their childhoods. You spend all of your kid-dom wishing you were a grown-up, and then when it suddenly happens, you desperately cling to what you are losing — freedom from worry, responsibility, bills, and Pap smears. Also — and this is key — the way your brain processes television, movies, and music is much keener when you are younger. As looking into a solar eclipse can burn your retinas, your Millennial love of that Alice in Chains record has been soldered into your brain's ventral striatum. This is why most people's favorite music is still whatever they loved in high school. It's true; I did a scientific study of such things when I worked at Amoeba. (See? Ben Carson isn't the only kook who can pull things out of his ass.)
This brings me to Red Oaks, a new comedy from Amazon that takes place in the 1980s. This is the first time an entity has paid homage to that decade's teen screwball comedies without totally pissing me off. Don't get me started on Wet Hot American Summer, the Netflix series that gets so many things wrong it might as well be, um, Ben Carson.
Red Oaks has all the building blocks of an '80s movie. It takes place in a Country Club (Caddyshack), with a rich asshole and his sexually precocious daughter (Porky's). The valet parkers are all dweebs (16 Candles), and the head dweeb is a schlubby Booger type (Revenge of the Nerds) who desperately wants to get laid with anyone who is way out of his league (all of the above). Throw in some other nods to Hamburger...The Movie and Hot Dog...The Movie, and you'll find yourself transported back to USA Up All Night again.
The main character, David, is expertly played by Craig Roberts. In true '80s hero fashion, he is not particularly handsome (Better Off Dead, Loverboy) but he has big dreams to someday do something big in a big way. You know, like being big (Just One Of The Guys). For David, this means becoming an accountant, because the only thing guaranteed in life is death and taxes, and he doesn't want to be a mortician. He has a totally hot girlfriend who in real life would have nothing to do with a guy like him (which is true to the formula). But her hair is so not 1985, producers. You really need to work on your poofing skills.
Here's how the show is different, however. For the most part, it's not especially zany, although there is a "body swapping" episode (18 Again, Vice Versa). It's sleepier and more thoughtful than the genre it celebrates, which is both good and bad. I'm glad to see someone finally giving it the respect it deserves, even if some of the pacing is a bit glacial. Casting Paul Reiser as the rich prick seems a bit too subtle, too. Give us a Ted Knight type; we can handle it. Major props go to the writers for creating golf instructor Misty's boyfriend Steven, whose Fever Blyster is a god-awful '80s garage band. The costume designer also appreciates that the decade was the Age of Men in Bad Elastic Waistband Shorts. That alone is enough to keep me watching.
Between Red Oaks, Transparent, and The Man In The High Castle — which debuts on Nov. 20 — it might be worth biting the bullet and getting an Amazon Prime subscription. Yes, Amazon is the Ted Knight of retailers, gobbling up everything in its path and now having the audacity to build its own brick-and-mortar bookstore in Seattle. But hey, free shipping, amirite?
Comments are closed.
