08-May-1997 Thursday
For a fluffy movie about two adorable airheads, "Romy and Michele's High
School Reunion" is chock-full of brain-tickling questions. Like ...
"How can Romy and Michele afford a beach-front apartment on Romy's
cashier's salary?" And ...
"These gorgeous babes don't have boyfriends because ... ?"
And my personal favorite: "Why can't `Romy and Michele's High School
Reunion' be `Heather's High School Reunion'?"
Romy (Mira Sorvino) and Michele (Lisa Kudrow) are two Venice Beach dim
bulbs desperate to whip their underachiever lives into shape in time for
their 10-year reunion. Outcasts in high school (Romy was pudgy, Michele had
a back brace), they storm back to Tucson determined to impress the pants
off the cheerleaders and jocks who turned Sage Brush High into one big
torture chamber.
Alas, the scheme to pass themselves off as the creators of the Post-it Note
crumbles at their stilettoed feet, and Romy and Michele are forced to
conquer the reunion on their own goofy terms. Revenge is sitcom swift and
Jelly Belly sweet, but as nice as it is to watch the gals exact their pound
of cheerleader flesh, Romy and Michele's reunion would have been a lot more
fun if they'd turned the whole thing over to Heather.
If Romy and Michele were low on the high-school food chain, Heather Mooney
(Janeane Garofalo) was stuck at the bottom with the plankton and the drama
geeks. Short, smart and ruthlessly observant (a triple curse if there ever
was one), Heather has matured from a furious, chain-smoking adolescent into
a furious, chain-smoking adult. She's a wealthy businesswoman now, but her
post-high-school success (she invented quick-burning cigarette paper) is
but a tiny Band-Aid on a still-pulsing psychic wound.
As written by Robin Schiff, Heather is a bristling ball of bruised barbs,
foul language and underdog wrath. As played by angst poster-child Garofalo,
she is also the dark heart of this cotton-candy movie.
"Aren't you Heather Mooney?" a stunned Romy asks when Garofalo's former
misfit shows up at a Jaguar dealership to pick up her new car.
"Yeahhh," she says dubiously, and between the defiant look on Garofalo's
face and the vulnerable catch in her voice, one word speaks repressed
volumes. "Yeah, it's me. Why shouldn't it be me?" Or, "Yeah, it's me. I'm
buying a Jaguar. What of it?" Or, "Yeah, it's me. I'm rich, I'm impressive,
and if you hurt my feelings again, I'll run you down in the parking lot."
While Romy and Michele do their noodle-brained best to get even, Heather is
happy to stay mad. Mad at the fabulously popular A Group for treating her
like the human equivalent of dryer lint. Mad at Michele for spurning the
affections of Sandy Frink (Alan Cumming), the nerd Heather secretly loved.
Mad at the world for dealing her such a pathetic hand. So when Romy asks
her if she has any reunion message for her classmates, Heather takes a deep
drag and unleashes the truth she's been storing for a decade.
"Why don't you tell everyone to go (expletive) themselves for making my
high-school years a living hell?" Heather says, her not-blue eyes blazing
beneath her not-blond hair. But she can't help hauling her not-stylish self
to the reunion, where she spews at the cheerleaders ("Why don't you go back
to ignoring me like you did in high school?"), exorcises her old
crush("That's Sandy Frink? What was I thinking?") and makes the astounding
discovery that halls of high-school hell were a lot more crowded than she
thought.
In all her profane fury, Heather is a great foil for Romy and Michele's
Day-Glo dippiness. She is also such a liberating blast of noxious fumes
that closet geekazoids can't help thinking about the fun we'd have if the
reunion were turned over to the most interesting person in the room.
At Heather's High School Reunion, the kitchen would serve chicken wings and
sushi, the bar would pour Black Russians and Hammerheads, and the band
would play the misfit anthems by the Kinks, the Replacements and Hole. The
dress code would be Black Tie Never, and Range Rover keys would be
confiscated at the door.
At Heather's High School Reunion, attendees would amuse themselves in the
Justice Chamber, where the former freaks and underdogs could pelt the
former elite with crudites and questions about literature and rock 'n'
roll. Or cool their heels in the V.I.R. (Very Important Reject) Room, where
members of the chess club, the math club and the marching band swap
business cards and humiliation stories, and the jocks and cheerleaders
serve Champagne and sweep up the peanut shells.
And at awards time, Heather's High School Reunion would recognize the
things that count. So despite their killer curves and fab clothes, Romy and
Michele would take the plaque for Best Performance by Best Friends in
Supportive Roles. And the newly rich and famous Sandy Frink would be
honored not for his money or fame, but for being nice in spite of them.
As for Heather, you can find her at the back of the room, cigarette in
hand, peanut shells at her feet, and a smile that could light up the whole
desert. Because living well is fine revenge, but surviving in style is even
better.
KARLA PETERSON can be reached by phone, (619) 293-1275); fax, (619)
293-2436; and e-mail, (karla.peterson@uniontrib.com).