“Prom” and the bland, creeping evil of girl culture
Disney's wannabe tween hit mixes retro gender politics, impressive hair and empty multiculturalism
Topics: Prom, Disney, Glee, Quick Takes, Movies, Entertainment News
Here’s what I want to know about “prom.” Not the new Disney movie “Prom,” which is a would-be tween-oriented hit so scrubbed and sanitized and not worthy of paying attention to that it can barely be said to exist at all. I want to know when the senior prom, the ritual pre-graduation party involving corsages and limousines and (in my day) hilarious feathered hairdos and tuxedos in unnatural pastel shades of polyester with enormous foldover lapels, lost its definite article. (At my school it was actually called the senior ball — the prom was for juniors — and I don’t think I know anybody who physically attended it. But let’s move on before I start bawling about the girl I didn’t ask who is now a prominent anthropologist.)
Anyway, in normal American speech it was once called “the prom” or “the senior prom”; these days “Prom” seems to have become a trademarked proper noun, and also a subset or metastatic offshoot of the corporatized girl-culture that brought us the princess craze. I suppose if my daughter (who is 7) had heard about Disney’s “Prom” and wanted to see it, I’d let her go, with kind of a sinking feeling just below my solar plexus. First of all, it wouldn’t make much of an impression on her because it’s so boring, and second of all, it would strike her as a story set among a Stepfordian alien civilization, one with similar artifacts to our own but entirely different folkways and hairstyles.
You certainly don’t expect a Disney live-action movie to be ambitious or edgy, but you don’t necessarily expect this degree of sloppiness either. “Prom” was directed by Joe Nussbaum, who’s made a couple of mediocre youth-oriented movies already and favors a musty, hazy look that makes it seem as if Whateverville High in an unnamed Midwestern suburb is enduring a series of smog days, or the effects of a nearby forest fire. His cast comprises pretty girls with perfect teeth and cascading ringlets of hair, improbably spackled with makeup, and pretty boys with perfect teeth and uneasily shellacked hair. (Only, some of them appear to be repeating 12th grade for the fifth or sixth — or 11th — time.) Everyone in the movie delivers their lines in the same bright, presentational style, and behave in every take of every scene as if they have just met but are really glad to have done so and even more glad to be high school seniors in the most awesome land of all.




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