Retroversy

Heartbreak High on Netflix is a show rife with what I like to call “idealized edginess”. It aims for “raw honesty”, to portray Generation Z “as it really is”, but it’s probably not as true to life as it likes to claim it is. Think of it more like a deliberate response to the overly saccharine teen drama series of yore. If these depicted teens as adults want them to be, Heartbreak High and other shows of its ilk presents teens as they want to be portrayed. Everyone’s a little queer, everyone has lots of sex, everyone does lots of drugs and nothing bad ever comes of it and most importantly, everyone’s is casually okay with just about anything that would make your average suburban parent choke on their Chardonnay, from polyamorous hookups to covering up for friends who commit armed robbery.

It can be a bit comical how much of a theme park ride through all of the pressing issues Gen Z cares about Heartbreak High is at times. Diversity! Police brutality! Toxic masculinity! Autism awareness! Yet no matter how self-congratulatory the show may get about it and how eager it is to unquestioningly present its idealized edginess as the new norm, it firmly plants itself on the right place of history. The occasional slip-up reveals that this is still a show written by adults trying to appeal to children — I’m pretty sure non-binary people don’t actually talk exclusively in lines that look like they came straight from Tumblr circa 2013 — but overall, the whole thing works surprisingly well. I don’t quite think our kids are living in the world Heartbreak High depicts just yet, but I can’t exactly blame them for wanting to either.

In se, this is nothing new, yet what sets apart Heartbreak High apart from contemporaries like HBO’s Euphoria or Netflix’ atrocious 13 Reasons Why is the fact that it is overall a pretty optimistic affair. The cinematography is colourful, the costumes are vivid and outrageous, and the script finds a nice balance between topical drama and surprising hilarity. Provocative as it may be, Heartbreak High is never cynical or nihilistic, and its characters are as fun to hang out with as they are flawed. With plenty of levity in the form of clever jokes or heart-warming moments of genuine intimacy, it cuts through the oppressive fatalism the other two aforementioned series have become infamous and controversial for.

Heartbreak High‘s ultimate saving grace, however, are its characters, who exist at a strange intersection between common teen drama stereotypes and flesh-and-blood human beings. Most of them both play their role straight to a T and subvert the stereotypes associated with it at the same time. Sure, the quirky autistic girl is always fidgeting, always brutally honest and always fixated on a fantasy world of her own making, but she’s also depicted as highly emotionally intelligent and more than capable of picking up on social cues. Sure, the foul-mouthed kid with the mullet and the tracksuit deals drugs and hangs out with the wrong crowd, but he’s also queer. Not in the “I am a raging homophobe compensating for something” kind of way you’d expect, but in the “shy smiles and butterflies in my stomach” kind of way. It’s pretty damn refreshing to see a show like this having its cake and eating it and getting away with it, too.

The best example of this approach is probably the character of Darren. Ostensibly, they are a relatively stereotypical gay (or in this case, non-binary) best friend archetype. You know the kind. Fiercely loyal to their friends, sassily putting down jocks left and right and not going five minutes without reminding people that they’re not like the others Darren is all that, but they are more. Their story is about more than being the gay best friend. They struggle with being accepted by their parents, for example, but not in the way you might think. Contrary to what the cliché prescribes, Darren’s folks are, in fact, broadly accepting of how they identify, or act, or dress, but parents and child still end up clashing because, for example, Darren’s stepfather is uncomfortable having to explain what being non-binary is to his mates when they come over to watch the football.

This registers as a far more narratively interesting conflict than the usual comical bigotry we see from parents of queer kids in other shows. Don’t get me wrong, that kind of bigotry absolutely exists, but from a storytelling perspective, the nuanced take has more potential, both for comedy and drama. It allows, for example, for Darren to also not be completely innocent when it comes to their strenuous relationship with their father. Darren is quick to assume their father is out to get them, for example. They regularly mock and belittle him for his stereotypically masculine interests, as if his masculinity is an intentional threat towards their queerness. It makes for good comedy, because there is no designated good guy and no designated bad guy, but most of all, it makes for good tragedy, when you realize Darren feels so vulnerable and terrified of being cast out that they immediately assume the worst of their parents, even when these parents try their hardest to be accepting, but fail to be perfect.

Nuance like this is what saves Heartbreak High from being yet another brooding, desensitizing prestige drama that wants to show you what kids today are really like. It truly seems to get teenagers, both what they want themselves and the world to be like, and what they are actually like. Also, it certainly helps that the entire show is set in Australia, which in and by itself makes just about anything coming out of the characters’ mouth 20 per cent funnier and more iconic. Eetsway!