A multimedia diary of 1990s child stardom
In 1983, Soleil Moon Frye was just 7 years old when she was cast as the eponymous Punky Brewster in the NBC sitcom about a foster child raised by a single dad. During her tenure on the hit show, Frye found herself filming scenes with astronaut Buzz Aldrin and helping first lady Nancy Reagan stress the importance of saying no to drugs.
It was a time when family sitcoms were immensely popular, with many featuring special episodes designed as life lessons for the viewer.
But it wasn’t long before the child actor found herself navigating a more adult and complex world.
In the new Hulu documentary “Kid 90,” premiering Friday, March 12, Frye serves as both director and subject as she culls through a decade’s worth of home movies, saved voice mails and handwritten diary entries to see if her memories of life as a child actor mirror what she was constantly recording
throughout her adolescence.
Having never revisited these materials prior to making “Kid 90,” Frye presents her film in part as a way of testing her recollections against the raw footage of the actual moments. And make no mistake, this footage is often raw.
Sure, there’s an innocent delight in watching a teenage Frye spend a day at Six Flags Magic Mountain with fellow young actor Leonardo DiCaprio, who was just breaking through with his role on “Growing Pains.” But what’s far more compelling is watching Frye detail the ways in which her rapid physical development as a teenager forced her into a series of roles that valued her body over her talent.
At the age of 16, Frye documented herself undergoing breast reduction surgery. It’s one of many achingly personal scenes in the film, which serves as a loosely stitched, chronological collage of a very specific life that ultimately feels relatable from the other side of the screen. From battles with drugs and selfesteem to the grief of losing loved ones, it’s these moments in the documentary — rarely captured by anyone — that resonate the strongest.
One thing that is certainly unique to Frye is her enviably amazing cast of friends.
In “Kid 90,” we learn about strong friendships forged among the small number of child actors working in Hollywood at the time. Frye invites pals like MarkPaul Gosselaar (“Saved by the Bell”), David Arquette (“The Outsiders”) and Brian Austin Green (“Beverly Hills, 90210”) back for interviews to add fresh context to her treasure trove of documented memories.
The film also unveils incredible footage of a post“Punky Brewster” Frye beginning to rebel against her pure childhood image, be it courtesy of a magic mushroom trip out in nature or trying to persuade a young Jenny Lewis not to mouth off to the cops after they’re pulled over.
And then there are the romances, which arrive courtesy of Charlie Sheen voice mails and behindthescenes footage of rapper Danny Boy O’Connor on tour with House of Pain. While Sheen (who Frye refers as “my Mr. Big,” a nod to “Sex and the City”) appears only in archival footage, Frye reconnects with O’Connor in the documentary to discuss their relationship, which was tumultuous and clearly significant for both parties.
Tragically, “Kid 90” also features a number of familiar faces that did not survive to the present. Among them are the actor Jonathan Brandis (“The NeverEnding Story II: The Next Chapter”) and skateboarder Justin Charles Pierce, both of whom committed suicide before Frye was 25.
“I didn’t hear it and I didn’t see it,” Frye, now 44, laments at one point in the documentary. “I only see it in retrospect some 20odd years later.”
It’s a genuine observation, but one that places unfair blame on the filmmaker. Frye’s regrets are also at odds with the larger picture “Kid 90” paints: that regardless of the hand we’re dealt in life, joy and tragedy are likely to follow.
Other documentaries have made this point in grander, more artistic ways, but there is value in seeing this raw footage that accompanies an adolescence spent in front of the camera. What it shows, however, should not be mistaken as a road map to fixing the past.
Alas, that stuff only exists on sitcoms.