Bro Cinema

Road Trip

The Girl Next Door

We’ve viewed a lot of critically acclaimed films during this never ending movie marathon: Portrait of a Lady on Fire, Her, The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo, Minari, She’s The Man, just to name a few. And as much as I love films that celebrate the art of filmmaking, as much as I admire complex, evocative cinema, I would not be the connoisseur that I am today without my love for cheesy, silly, over the top movies like the ones we viewed this evening. I was craving something easy, comforting, and low stakes like our Trashy 2000s night. And after weeks of diving into the dense filmographies of so many acclaimed and awarded directors, I felt it was time to visit the nether-region of cinema: a time of beer-soaked, raunchy narratives that defined my childhood—the era of chick flicks and buddy comedies. This was an era of bro-sploitation—where young adulthood was mythologized to the point of seeming like the peak of human existence. It was a time where every parent’s nightmare was realized in the form of the fictional teenagers on screen, with their hedonistic, voyeuristic tendencies that caused them go to great lengths to just party, lose their virginities, and write speeches only to rip them up and deliver messages straight from the heart in the end. While we still had much to learn in the nineties and the early 2000s, this era seemed to be some of our last moments of genuine, untethered cinematic freedom—where directors weren’t afraid to indulge in slapstick and actors were encouraged to perform as ridiculously as the scripts called for. No one was trying to get an Oscar, no one was attempting to send a compelling message, the goal of these films was simply to be as goofy and as uninhibited as possible—and boy were they. Some of my earliest childhood memories are not of seeing my family and friends, but of watching trailers for movies like the ones we watched tonight: where every bit of sex and drugs and bro-bonding was squeezed into a minute and a half of curious, seemingly dangerous viewership. While there are MANY films in this genre I could’ve selected, Todd Phillips’ 2000 feature Road Trip really does feel like the perfect place to start—not just because of my sister’s close working relationship to leading man DJ Qualls—but because this film served as one of the more foundational texts of bro cinema. In trademark Todd Phillips fashion, there was a hefty dose of testosterone, gratuitous female nudity, and over the top hijinks that always include a race against time and at least one explosion. Even though this bro-down was doused in douchery and quintessential early 2000s sexploitation, Road Trip was easier to stomach and far more subtle than Joker. But I’ve talked enough shit about Todd Phillips. (For now.) I’m not going to lie to you and tell you that Road Trip is a heartwarming, down to earth film, but I will say that apart from the undeniable sexism, it was better than I expected. And while that previous sentence is bound to be unearthed years from now to cancel me, you have to consider the fact that every movie that came out in this time was this exact genre, made for and by dudes, and still I was not terribly offended by this one. DJ Qualls’ performance was star-making and Breckin Meyer is once again typecast as the one other nice guy of the bunch. Even though he cheats on his girlfriend and accidentally sends her a sex tape of it. Remember when that was the premise of a movie? Tom Green was doing what he does best in his portrayal of the weirdo on campus, Paulo Costanzo played the intelligent stoner well (just a few years before Kal Penn would evolve such a role into Kumar) and Seann William Scott played the same character he’s always played—if not slightly less likable than usual. There were plenty of insane plot points and surprising cameos, but the craziest part of this film might’ve been that DJ Qualls, Anthony Rapp, and Andy Dick were all playing straight characters. It’s fun, foolish, and the exact kind of stupid you’d expect from this time, but it was somewhat nice to see Todd Phillips not take himself so seriously, as his cameo is truly ludicrous, and truly disgusting. It didn’t have much of a moral compass, which I was not shocked by, but what was shocking was The Girl Next Door, and its sincerely sweet ethos. While the film begins with a montage of high school hecticness that would’ve made me terrified of becoming a teenager, The Girl Next Door reveals itself as an unassuming but charming story of goodness. Emile Hirsch is peak cute in this film, so much so that it practically broke my heart as I watched with the knowledge that he’s a known abuser, and the rest of the cast was exceptional—back when Paul Dano was typecast as a nerd and Olivia Wilde was just a background actress with a few nothing lines. I’m not saying this film is a feminist triumph or anything, but I will say that every moment that could’ve been exploitative or libidinal, always turned into something far more interesting. And of course there were odd moments, for example: the needle drop of “Under Pressure” shifting to a HARD left into Elliot Smith, but there were so many enjoyable qualities—Timothy Olyphant playing a psycho in Johnny Knoxville drag, for one. If Road Trip was a pleasant surprise, then The Girl Next Door positively blew me away. Watch it before it leaves Netflix at the end of August, and feel the same shock and awe that I did. These movies are meant to be enjoyed, not analyzed—well at least not too close—and enjoy them you shall. Maybe.