B Movies Blog

Hello, Movie Mavens! Welcome back to the B Movies Blog. Today, we’re popping high school-themed musicals into the ol’ VCR. 

I’ve never understood the concept of the high school musical. Now don’t get me wrong — I’ll watch them nine ways to Sunday. But, I don’t understand the glorification of high school. High school, at least in my experience, was fun, but it definitely wasn’t the pinnacle of living. 

I was a firecracker of emotions that was one match away from exploding at any given moment. I lived off of Taco Bell and Lo-Carb Monsters. You couldn’t pay me money to go back. 

However, for some reason, we decided as a society to accept high school as the setting for musicals. Somehow, we were like, “You know what would be fun? Pretending like being a teenager is a magical and mystical time where you not only know how to properly articulate your emotions, but you know how to do it THROUGH THE ART OF SONG?”

Yeah, it sounds insane when I spell it out. But again, that hasn’t stopped me from watching any of them, from Grease to the High School Musicals (I draw the line at Dear Evan Hansen). Why, though?

I never played sports, so can someone tell me if singing falls before or after dribbling practice?

I think that we, collectively as a society, also decided to live vicariously through a bunch of actors and romanticize our experiences. And, honestly, with the world as we know it in constant turmoil, I say screw it. 

Why not pretend like none of us wore the wrong shade of Dream Matte Mousse foundation to hide our acne, only making it worse? Why not pretend like schools actually supported the arts and could afford Broadway-esque plays? Why not act like we didn’t like/date a bunch of awful people who somehow all mostly turned out to be pastors? (Just me? Noted.) 

Let’s let Zac Efron sing and dance us into a sense of security. Let’s use zombies, aliens, and werewolves as a way to represent racism and segregation like ZOMBIES, or, you know, actually just call racism and segregation out like in Hairspray. Let’s even give movies like Mean Girls and Heathers the musical treatment for extra flare. 

It’s the same old song and dance, but there’s something comforting in that old tune. 

I’m a Frenchie Sun, Jan Moon, and a Rizzo Rising.