evan rachel wood, holly hunter
nikki reed, brady corbet
jeremy sisto
unfashionable observations rating: B+
And that is precisely what this movie is about: it tells the story of a girl who has stopped feeling. The main character, Tracy (Evan Rachel Wood), is as insecure a teen as they come, partly because of her unresponsive father and her overburdened mother (played by Holly Hunter). Her insecurities are aggravated by Evie (Nikki Reed), the most popular girl at school who is all-too confident and carefree. When Evie initially spurns Tracy’s advances for friendship, Tracy becomes monomaniacally obsessed with gaining her approval. She buys new clothes that mirror Evie’s style, and is willing to do anything—whether it be illegal or not—to please Evie. Tracy suspends all of her feelings, judgments, and desires that previously gave value to her life in order to become one of the cool kids.
Tracy eventually succeeds in transforming herself from a sweet, young poet to a nihilistic bitch that would make Ayn Rand proud. Perhaps what is most shocking is not the fact that Tracy—as the conflicted teen par excellence—dives headfirst into a state of dangerous self-indulgence; but rather the speed with which she does this. In four short months, she is unrecognizable even to her own mother. Adolescence is surely a prime time for discovering oneself through varied experiences, but it is also a prime time for losing oneself in the process.
Most of the performances in this movie were quite good. Nikki Reed’s performance as the tenacious and deceptive Evie is eminently commendable. Personally, I thought that Evie’s character was much more complex than that of Tracy, as she was at once the centerpiece of “cool” and the most neglected teenager in the movie. Unlike Tracy, whose family was separated but still functional, Evie truly had no family. Evie’s story was the stuff tragedy is made of. Tellingly, it was Nikki Reed, and not Evan Rachel Wood, who co-wrote the screenplay.
Thirteen is a wholly visceral experience. A lot of the lighting in the movie is purposely too bright so as to convey feelings of discomfort and unease upon the audience. For the most part, this works well, as we know that Tracy—even though she has abandoned the innocence of her childhood—is still just a teenage girl. Yes, we observe her punching her best friend for fun while on drugs; but that does not mean that she isn’t capable of feeling or caring. She is still a human being—and not despite her flaws, but on account of them. Even so, her young age rightly causes us the discomfort that is complemented by the harsh lighting. The lighting also adds to a kind of docu-drama style that confers a sense of realism and immediacy that directors like Larry Clark (Bully) and Lars von Trier (Breaking the Waves) have perfected.
The movie’s final scene captures the image of tainted innocence perfectly. We see Tracy riding on a merry-go-round, screaming. Surely, that scream is one of pain—the pain of losing her identity, of losing her innocence, of hurting her family, and of hurting herself. But it is also a scream for help. Thirteen teaches us about the fragility of the teenage psyche, and in so doing makes us fully aware—ironically enough—of its terribly destructive power.
I’d give Catherine Hardwicke’s Thirteen a B+.
