Eighth Grade (2018)

In Ninth Grade, I had an english teacher who was an aspired blue's musician by hobby. He made it a point to make us study the art of Blues music in his curriculum and asked of us to write a Blues song of our own. For all of us in the class, especially me, afraid of making music or at the very least, singing it to the class, he tried to help us reconsider by repeating the phrase, "Expand your spaz". What does that mean? Simply put, to have enough confidence to leave your comfort zone and try something new. It was at that moment I was forced to "Expand my spaz", and I totally hated every minute of it. I recited my ghastly crafted Blues song "Study Hall" with my back turned to the entire room. I couldn't face my snickering, adolescent classmates. No rhythm, no grace, I read it completely monotone. I felt a light brush hit my back. It was a paper ball someone threw at me. Flash forward to Twelfth grade, when I starred in a Theatrical production of John Cariani's "Almost, Maine". When you "Expand your spaz" there's no turning back.

This is the essence of Eighth Grade, the new independent summer sleeper by Bo Burnham, and it's bound to become one of the most important films I've ever watched. Important because, perhaps for the first time, I can point to an onscreen character and say definitively "That's me right there". Kayla, played heroically by a new American star, Elsie Fisher, is a character as close to my personal childhood experience as any film has ever captured. A film that unflinchingly looks into not simply the stereotypical "awkward" times of the middle school child, but the enhanced torture it is for someone with crippling social anxiety. Kayla has a big personality and a heart that wants to break free. But she's relegated to the deep depths of social media to express how she really feels. By day, she is the nobody of her jr. high school. The only girl awarded "Most Quiet" as a year-end superlative. Trapped and timid is she to find her corner in the non-digital world. For me it was watching movies, for her it is V-logging on YouTube to a nonexistent audience. But with the guidance of her quirky father, she begins taking chances. From the positive, like making friends with a High School senior life coach, to the negative, where a young boy attempts a crude sexual advance during a game of "truth or dare". Kayla tears her wall down and let's the world beyond her bedroom in and by the film's end, she learns that she's grown and became the girl she always wanted to be. She feels normal. She is normal.

Cinematically, Bo Burnham amplifies the internal anxiety and fear of Kayla so powerfully, it makes it's audience squirm. Every blemish and boil is visible. It's a virtual reality experience without the cockamamie goggles. We live vicariously through Kayla's world and we want her to win, desperately. When she falls, we feel for her. When she cries, we cry. When she longingly looks at the hot boy in school, we revert back to glory days of first love and sweaty palms. There's a little something we can all relate to with Kayla. For millennials especially, it's mandatory viewing. While I didn't go to school when nearly all students were head's deep in their smart phones or substituting fire drills with mass-shooter drills (disgusting that this even has to be done these days), the challenges that Kayla faces are timeless. It opens nation wide this weekend and it deserves the blockbuster treatment.