Click ‘like’ for Bo Burnham’s ‘Eighth Grade’
Not even Joseph Conrad had the courage to venture into that darkest of hearts: middle school.
Bo Burnham’s “Eighth Grade,” however, plunges us into the day-to-day experience of a 13-year-old girl, Kayla Day (Elsie Fisher) with just as much intensity as a journey down the Congo. Every sling and arrow, in the mall food court or on Snapchat, is felt acutely. Whenever Kayla’s crush, the (to her eyes) smouldering Aiden (Luke Prael), steps in the room, the world turns slowmotion and the music thunders. End-of-the-year superlatives? The horror.
Such harrowing moments have long been stretched for their comedy (“Middle School: The Worst Years of My Life”) or their torture (“Welcome to the Dollhouse”), but rarely have they been rendered with such precision and empathy. Burnham’s intimate, impressive directorial debut is armed not just with an understanding for the awkwardness of youth but with an anger at what social media and cellphones are doing to it.
The 27-year-old former Youtube sensation turned stand-up comedian turned feature filmmaker is an unlikely guide for such a crucible of adolescence. Burnham’s comedy, while evolving, has typically been theatrically, even combatively brash. His rise was propelled by the technology he’s now turning on. Like Burnham did as a teenager, Kayla hosts a Youtube show, only nobody watches her earnest life advice. “The hard part about being yourself is that it’s not easy,” she says into her bedroom camera before reminding viewers to hit “like” and signing off with a forced trademark: “Gucci!” Sweet, shy and acne-covered, Kayla lacks both an audience and friends. Only one of those matters.
Kayla tries, unconvincingly, to project a confident version of herself online while struggling through lonely days at school.
From the start, we feel the unreasonable pressure put on Kayla by blissful Instagram accounts and savvier Twitter feeds. She spends much of her days and nights anxiously scrolling down screens, fueling her insecurity (certainly not an affliction reserved only for teens). In one scene, Kayla wakes up, does her makeup from a Youtube tutorial, and then crawls back into bed to take a Snapchat selfie. That the Internet is damaging Kayla isn’t hard to get; when her iphone screen cracks, she pricks her finger on it.
But she is gloriously plucky. The Post-its on her mirror read “Go get ‘em!” and “Be sexy!” When an already cringe-inducing birthday party sets up karaoke, we start covering our eyes for the all certain embarrassment to come. But she goes for it. Burnham keeps the camera focused on Kayla and her personal triumph, not the reaction of the teen onlookers. Sorry, Rock. Kayla is the summer’s most awe-inspiring hero.