Heathers is a teenage Twilight Zone
About twice a year, I develop a hyperfixation with Heathers (1989). Ever since my friend first introduced me to the ’80s staple, I’ve found myself increasingly obsessed each time I rewatch it — first with the characters, then with the script, the time after with the colors. And from the raging popularity the film has garnered throughout the decades, I can tell I’m not the only one. Heathers pulls you by the collar of your shirt and kisses you with the opening scene, only to shove you away with a smirk at the end. It’s intoxicating — this much is certain.
But it’s not just because of the witty chatter, or the well-acted scenes; this obsession cannot be attributed to something as simple as great costume design or the allure of Christian Slater and Winonna Ryder. Heathers is every angry teen’s deepest, darkest high school fantasy, sure — but it is much more than that. Heathers is an alternate reality — a modern Twilight Zone where even the jocks sound eloquent in their stupidity, and murder is just a blemish on your school picture day face. It is a world where the most surface-level teenage drama sprouts wings and grows uglier than the usual side-eyes and cruel words it produces — instead generating bloody limbs and funerals. In this way, the film’s enticing essence goes far beyond some typical teen hyperfixation.
Although it’s not all about what makes Heathers a good movie that makes it an intriguing one, some of the dialogue, character dynamics, and overall ambience of the film most certainly contribute to its Twilight Zone-esque mystique. We all know and love some of the most famous quotes — “What’s your damage, Heather?”; “Fuck me gently with a chainsaw. Do I look like Mother Theresa?”; “Are we going to prom or to hell?” — and fawn over their quoteability; the way they just seem to glide right off the tongue. But these lines attribute more than simple admiration — they are too perfect for the mouths of teenagers, therefore seeming to reflect not the cleverness that young people speak with, but that in which they believe they do. In this way, these lines are the characteristics of a fantasy world — not just a fictional universe, where everything is more polished and put-together, but one that seems otherworldly even as you are fully immersed in it.
When Peter Dawson asks for a VHS copy of the footage of Westerburg students “joining hands” in the cafeteria for his Princeton application, it sounds ridiculous. It’s a comedic line written undoubtedly to garner laughs, but it’s the fact that this statement is treated with such genuine earnestness from other characters that makes it all the more surreal. Not unlike this silly scene, the dynamic between JD and his father is just as surreal, as they refer to each other as the other’s identifier — “Hey son!” “Hey dad.” — and speak of nothing but demolition, destruction, and the death of JD’s mother throughout the movie. Similarly, the just barely comprehensible repetition of Veronica’s interactions with her parents — “God, why do I ___?” “Because you’re an idiot.”; “Great pâté but I’ve gotta motor if I don’t want to be late to ___.” — follows a similar bizarre pattern, exhibited with a completely straight attitude, but giving a sense of uneasiness in its dreamlike demeanor.
In fact, the entire movie feels like a dream. So much so that during the one dream sequence that occurs, it takes more than a few moments to even realize that it is a dream. The iconic “nag, nag, nag” scene just barely strays from the look, sound, and feel of the rest of the film; from the camera angles to the colors to the eerie music, it all fits with the mysterious nature of the film as a whole.
Furthermore, although the movie is just under two hours, the drama that occurs seems to go on forever. With one “suicide” after another, the characters — student body, staff, and even parents — become completely consumed with the events, the high school, and adolescence. Nothing else matters, and a world outside of Westerburg is only hinted at through college application references and scolding parents. While of course it is only natural that the high school itself is the primary focus of the film, for the characters, it is as far as they ever look. At Heather Chandler’s funeral, Veronica states that she “just [wants her] high school to be a nice place”; as JD attempts to soothe Veronica after the murders of Kurt and Ram, he justifies their actions based on the fact that the two had nothing left to offer the school. By the end of the film, however — even after JD exclaims that the school was society — we realize that this was just one bump in the busy road of high school drama. Prom hasn’t even happened yet! As the students meander back to class from the pep rally, Veronica walks back in looking as if she’s literally been through hell, and no one but Heather mentions it. And as Veronica and Martha fade further away from the camera, it’s suggested that whoever and whatever exists within this alternate world is still very much alive. Just like an episode of the Twilight Zone, although the story being told ends, it is strongly suggested to continue on in its own little universe outside of our viewing.
Therefore, it only makes sense that the most dangerous and deadly drama within the film is that which would be considered objectively surface-level and adolescent. The Heathers are bullies, annoying, and cruel, sure; Kurt and Ram terrorize every “nerd” in the school — but the way in which Heathers depicts murder as the logical response to this is in and of itself a Twilight Zone-like characteristic.
“We killed them, didn’t we?” “Of course.”
Although we don’t technically know what’s going to happen before it does, the entire movie seems to set up the feeling that we do, so that when the murders happen, they feel less like a shocking instance and more of an “of course” one. Between the eerie music, the off-kilter characters, and the surreality, the act of murder within the Heathers universe feels logical if not natural; just as Veronica gets seduced by the act of it, so do we. Therefore, in presenting this shallow drama in only the most menacing and deadly light, Heathers reminds us that even the most childish drama is still drama; that all you really need is discontent and a willing participant to make back-of-the-class daydreams become tangible realities.
Furthermore, in depicting the world of Heathers as an essentially teen Twilight Zone, it allows us to indulge in the idea that the negative emotions we feel towards our high school peers are not only valid, but sexy. In high school, drama always feels bigger than it really is — something you never really realize until long after the fact — and Heathers takes this literally, by depicting with a straight face not how high school drama really is, but how it feels. In high school, we feel like the most clever, interesting beings in the world; our school becomes our society, and everything is louder, bigger, and closer to the end of the world. So we see ourselves in Heathers — with sharp words, quick minds, and diabolical plans. The wild and eccentric feel of the film is just the right temperature to match our perception of high school drama; therefore, Heathers makes us feel just as mysterious and meaningful as we do experiencing real-life spats with our peers.
When JD says, “Our love is god,” it is more than a well-written line — it is a reflection of our perception of adolescence when we are teens: there is nothing in the world bigger than us. And this is exactly what Heathers shows us: not simply a witty teen movie; not even just a dark comedy. Heathers takes high school spats and turn them into threats on steroids, while simultaneously depicting a universe in which everything that we perceive as teenagers to be provocative and desirable to be just so; where even as one chapter of drama closes, another is opening somewhere within the same universe. The film is a modern teenage Twilight Zone, reminding us that although the chaos we create can be murderous and appalling, there is something overtly sexy to it, and after all — chaos is what killed the dinosaurs, darling.