Eighth Grade

Comedian Bo Burnham’s directorial debut, Eighth Grade, centers on an awkward teenage girl as she tries to navigate the serpentine trials of adolescence in the social media age. The film’s strength derives from its realistic and updated depictions of social anxieties that teenagers have confronted over time. Unfortunately, these bright spots are overshadowed by cinematic inconsistency. Burnham lacks the ability to accentuate his characters’ development with visual expression, resulting in a film that is enjoyable, but not everlasting.

That said, Elsie Fisher, as main character Kayla Day, shines and is filmed brilliantly. Instead of usual Hollywood glamour, Fisher’s complexion is often charmingly unadorned, providing a sharp contrast with her make-up heavy appearances. These moments are refreshing doses of naturalism, an honest realism lacking in most youth movies. Her pimples and other bodily imperfections are accentuated by Burnham’s multiple close-ups, which provide a sense of loving acceptance — perhaps even adoration — for the awkward stages of puberty that most filmmakers either lampoon or ignore altogether.

Fisher’s masterful acting subtly connotes Kayla’s state of mind, such as when her eyes flit about as she spots her crush, or how her hands nervously twitch when she talks to a boy or the ever-changing inflections of her voice. Though usually reserved in a stuttering quietness, she sometimes gives way to awkward bouts of overexcitement. The combination communicates the constantly calculating mindset of the character and her quest to discover her identity amidst volatile teenage social mores. At times, she seems to revert to the carefree emotional expressions of a child, only to be yanked back to the adult world by her awareness of her growing physical maturity. This is the nature of adolescence — a constant battle between the past carefree innocence of youth and the oncoming responsibilities of adulthood. Fisher’s ability to suggest this tension in her character via a combination of nonverbal actions and subtle intonations speaks to her maturity as an actress.

Fisher’s powerhouse performance is matched by Burnham’s attention to detail in constructing the contemporary adolescent experience, expressing traditional youth conflicts in updated vernacular. He replaces in-person conversations, in which the particular characteristics of classmates and the inner workings of the main social hive traditionally have been communicated, with night-time smartphone tête-à-têtes. Much of the film shows Kayla in her bed, illuminated solely by the blue light of her phone, a phenomenon with which all 21st-century teenagers are familiar. Thus, the room, previously the symbol of lonely contemplation and isolation, is now the hub of outreach, where Kayla follows boys on Instagram with trepidation or attempts to befriend high schoolers by phone. It is a swift and smart reversal of a dated trope. Yet, the film wouldn’t be true realism without the constant references to contemporary pop culture. In place of loud pop-rock and science-fiction references like those of Back to the Future are allusions to Rick and Morty and the cultural phenomenon of memes. With these elements coalesced, Burnham meticulously and successfully recreates modern adolescence for our viewing pleasure.

Eighth Grade also effectively captures the teenage tendency to amplify what are, retrospectively, inane moments. Consider Burnham’s manipulation of sound and visuals during the pool party scene. Feeling overwhelmed by the presence of the popular kids, Kayla pinches her nose and dives under the surface of the water. The sound of the party becomes muddled, barely discernible yet malevolently lurking just above the surface. The kicking legs symbolize the gauntlet Kayla must navigate so as not to encroach upon the higher social sphere. When she finally swims back to the surface, the party sounds are revealed to be normal laughter and bits of innocent conversation and the labyrinthine assortment of legs no more than a few kids hanging out. These moments are the film’s best, capturing cinematically Kayla’s tendency to allow her social stress to distort her perception of the world. Within a few seconds, Burnham portrays Kayla’s awe and claustrophobia and then switches back to the omnipresent perspective — at once empathizing with the character and suggesting that her anxieties are, in a greater context, mundane. For a first-time director, this complexity is quite an impressive feat.

These moments are too few and far between to make up for the somewhat one-dimensional nature of the film’s characters. The awkwardness and verisimilitude of character interactions in the film rarely extend beyond the realm of base amusement, providing a fleeting chortle rather than a lasting impression. Consider how the arcs of three key relationships in Kayla’s life — her father, Gabe (a nerdy boy who she eventually dates), and herself — each end unsatisfyingly.

Kayla’s father is like many; he does not understand his teenage daughter’s affinity for technology and has trouble seeing things from the female point of view. Yet, all is righted when the father delivers a speech at a backyard campfire. She fills him with pride no matter the state of their relationship; she is his daughter and by virtue of that he will always love her and be proud of the woman she becomes. Such sentiments caress the heart, but are totally unwarranted in this film. The character dynamics shown beforehand simply do not lend believability to this dialogue — the incompatible cannot suddenly become compatible because the plot necessitates it. Instead, an act of catharsis should prompt the characters’ finding of common ground. In Eighth Grade, there is no such change. At the campfire, each character is just as lost as they were before and the “heartfelt” speech, as a result, comes across as unnatural.

Similarly, the dynamic between Kayla and Gabe is amusing, yet shallow. Gabe’s screen-time is relatively short, but that limitation should have been an impetus to use cinematic techniques (beyond dialogue) to characterize his growing relationship with Kayla. Contrast what Jean Vigo accomplished in his 45-minute masterpiece Zéro de Conduite. Through experimental uses of slow-motion, homages to past movies, and combinations of animation and live action, he created a dreamlike atmosphere — a reverie — that celebrated youthful rebellion and established a common ground that naturally linked all of the schoolboys together. When it comes to Kayla and Gabe, however, the film mostly uses the screenplay to communicate their strengthening bond, relying on conversations chock full of pop-culture allusions instead of utilizing methods with the camera. The few visual moments between them are fleeting, providing a momentary sense of awkwardness that evaporates as soon as the next scene begins. There is no lasting, cinematic expression that acknowledges their newfound feelings for each other. As a result, this relationship too feels forced and lifeless.

A similar problem characterizes Kayla’s relationship with herself. Having Kayla deliver her inner thoughts via YouTube vlogging is dangerous when it becomes the sole method of conveyance. These moments were charming thanks to Fisher’s performance, but Burnham’s act of using this same trope to denote Kayla’s newfound mindset was ill-advised. This “cyclical method” only works if other elements change, like if the film had employed some distinguishing cinematic techniques when Kayla stands up to the main popular girl on graduation and criticizes her for rebuking kind offers of friendship. There is no difference in the angling of the shots or in the blocking of the actors to symbolize her newfound change in confidence. Even a juxtaposition between a puzzled classmate’s expression and a potentially smug smile on her face would have sufficed. Yet, the dialogue was chosen to outshine everything else — both in this instance and the final vlog — and, as a result, the potential power of Kayla’s character growth was severely hampered.

Although Eighth Grade, in all of its cringe-worthy glory, is notable for its realism in depicting contemporary adolescence — especially in regards to technology and social media — its character dynamics lack the layered complexity that distinguishes truly great youth/coming-of-age films. As entertaining as all of the dabs, awkward teachers, and poorly edited YouTube vlogs may be, Eighth Grade feels like the end result of an externally manipulated concoction, not the accumulation of a natural journey.