Sleepover Gave Me Nightmares

I went to J’s Saturday night for a little girl hang out time with her and her roommate. Naturally, as three mature 24-year-old young professionals we rented Sydney White and Sleepover and watched them, rapt with amusement, as we noshed on Ameeci’s pizza.

Sydney White was everything I hoped it would be: funny but a little stupid, cute but completely cheesy, predictable but unrealistic. It was Sleepover that surprised me…

Some aspects of sleepovers haven’t changed for the younger generation. In the film, the girls apply Hand Candy nail polish and bop around to the Spice Girls, much like J and I did as middle-schoolers. What are considered idealized sleepover activities, as well as the chosen vocabulary, have changed. Drastically. (This choice line made me gag: “Oh for the love of carbs…!”)

My friends and I certainly didn’t drool over high school guys and then kiss them, as the main character, Julie Corky, does in the film. We would never tell our fat friends they were in fact fat, at least not to their faces. And we certainly wouldn’t be perusing a dating website for “grown-ups” and then sneak into a club to meet a guy who responded to our fake profile. And even if that resource was available to us (we only had AIM in middle school), I’m guessing we would be totally creeped out when we saw it was our teacher who responded. We wouldn't fawn over him and then try and make him look cuter by loosening his tie and running our fingers through his hair as the girls in the film did.

The movie, at its core, was all about conforming to the social norms of high school in order to be liked by your peers. Which is something most adolescents do in order to survive. But the ways the movie glorified fitting in sends a scary message to its viewers.

First things first. Maybe I was completely sheltered, but I NEVER hooked up with a high school guy while in middle school. I mean, we didn’t even think about doing that. Leonardo DiCaprio was enough for us. I remember someone from our 8th grade class being invited to Homecoming (a popular guy named Bronz), but this was a rarity. Those middle to high school lines were boundaries not to be played with. Granted, in 9th grade, I went out with a much-older guy (3.5 years my senior), but for some reason, that seemed more ok than an 8th grader and a 10th grader getting together, as it was in Sleepover.

The fat friend thing was ridiculous. Yancy (yes, Yancy, not Nancy) is admittedly chubby. She laments this fact to her pals as they steal her parents’ SmartCar and squeeze into its front seat. No matter about being chunky, one of her friends says. She asks Yancy, “Which would you rather have: a celery stick or a brownie?” I’m thinking, ‘Oh this is going to be a great message about eating what you want and not giving a crap if people say you are obese.” Ha. Fat chance. After Yancy replies, “Brownie of course!” (of course) the friend, who is celery stick thin, says, “ Ok, so you just have to find a guy who likes brownies too.” In short, if you are fat, stick with your own kind. And Yancy does just that when, at the end of the movie, a pudgy guy asks her to dance. Yancy asks him is he likes brownies, to which he responds, “Are you kidding? Brownies are a very important food group.”

As for the dating site, in the movie it is called “DateSafe.com” and there are close-up shots of it to show it is predator safe and stuff, in case viewers get any ideas. The girls are challenged by the evil popular squad to create a profile and find a guy that night to meet them in a club they are all too young to get into. When making the profile, the girls create a composite of their ideal girl: A supermodel who likes sewing. She gets a date instantly.

Perhaps the culminating moment of the film for me was when the girls tried to get into the high school prom, without tickets. They weren’t crafty, they walked in the front door and the ringleader, Julie, appealed to the homely girl who was playing bouncer and ticket-collector by insulting her: “You're out here collecting tickets instead of being inside at the dance. You spend your weekends doing extra credit algebra, you play way too much Monopoly with your parents, and you've never eaten anywhere near [the popular kids]. And in 4 years I will be YOU unless I get into that dance.” Instead of smacking her in the face, the girl gets kinda wistfully teary-eyed and tells them to get their butts in there.

Yes, I know this is just a dumb kids’ movie, but I can’t help but wonder how these scenes shape impressionable young girls, who are already insecure, confused, and looking for answers about their bodies, their friends, their popularity, and themselves. Sleepover teachers girls that if they aren’t the popular kids, or don’t sit with them or can’t get a boyfriend (even a fat one will do if that’s all you can manage), they are committing social suicide.

I would prefer young gals to watch Sydney White—a story that glorifies being an outsider to the point of becoming completely unrealistic. The main girl's social skills are embarrassing and she not only gets the cute guy, but she overthrows the pretty, bitchy sorority president. She unites the university with her self-proclaimed dorkiness, getting everyone from football players to queen bees to admit and embrace their nerdy tendencies.

It may be misleading, but least Sydney White gives all the Yancies and other misfits out there hope.