But I know, I know, life can be beautiful.
I pray, I pray, I pray for a better way
If we changed back then, we could change again
We can be beautiful…
Just not today.
(“Beautiful,” from Heathers: The Musical)

I’ve been fixated on Heathers recently, probably because the musical version has been revived and is currently running in London’s West End. Many of you no doubt remember the 1989 movie starring Winona Ryder and Christian Slater, a film which sparked an undying love for Doris Day (“Que Sera Sera… whatever will be, will be…”), even though she didn’t sing the version used in the film, and which elevated Shannon Doherty to a level of pop culture credibility even Beverly Hills 90210 couldn’t destroy.

Not long before we left Oklahoma, I came across a promo for Heathers: The Musical being staged by a local troupe at the Tulsa PAC (in, um… one of the ‘smaller’ theaters hidden within). My wife and I went, and while she was underwhelmed, I was immediately hooked. This was one of the darkest, most joyful, shameless, full-of-hope productions of anything I’d ever experienced.

Also, there was a rather clever song about testicles which shouldn’t have worked, but totally did. Kudos to the lads who managed to sell THAT one musically and comedically.

It turns out the show had run Off-Broadway for several years to mixed reviews, starting way back in 2014. Much like the movie, it’s a dark comedy which exploits murder, suicide, homophobia, and teen sexcapades (including attempted date rape) for laughs alongside an almost preachy sort of moralizing. Apparently not everyone loves that.

Come back girl, now don’t play hurt – if  you don’t want me starin’, why you wearin’ that skirt?
We can’t be tamed and we can’t be blamed; it’s all your fault that we’re inflamed!
‘Cause once, you were grody and grotty – now you’ve got a body like a Maserati!
Stroke my fur, make me purr! Hey! You wanted to be popular!
You’re welcome – look where you are…
You’re welcome, come get your football star!
You’re welcome – you’ve joined the pros.
Once we squeeze you, you’ll stay squoze.
You’re welcome!
(“You’re Welcome,” from Heathers: The Musical)

For the record, our protagonist escapes that particular situation then murders them both. But, you know… in a fun way.

Dark or not, the messaging of the various musical incarnations is far more overtly positive than the film. Veronica (the protagonist, played by Winona Ryder in the original) is less bad-ass and more earnest, and several supporting characters come across more sympathetically than they did without all the singing. Some of the songs have to grow on you, but are generally at their best when overly ambitious. That ‘shamelessness’ I referenced earlier applies to the sunshiny bits as much as it does the dark humor – and in my opinion, somewhat sanctifies itself in the process.

I don’t seem to be entirely alone in this assessment. Not only is the show doing quite well in London at the moment, but it’s managed to remain oddly popular with high school drama classes and other local-type thespians. Demand was such that the creators eventually produced a separate, PG-ish version for use in settings where repeated uses of f-bombs and slang for various sexual organs might prove distracting. Clearly there’s something about this show that speaks to the high school experience powerfully enough that drama teachers around the country keep going to their principals to explain why they’re inviting parents to a production with such a high mortality rate and a liberal use of language which under normal circumstances could get you suspended for bullying (or arrested for hate crimes).

There are also several English-as-a-second-language versions out there that will really rock your afternoon, if you’re so inclined.

That said, it’s certainly not everyone’s cup of pathos, and I won’t take it personally if you end up not loving it in the same way. (My wife and I don’t agree about this movie or this musical at all, but we seem to still be getting along OK. Love means learning to accept that sometimes she’s just plain wrong about big, important things.) What’s more interesting to me at the moment is why this particular musical resonates with me as strongly as it does.

I’m reasonable enough to recognize that despite the passion of its fans, this show is no Waitress, Hamilton, or Something Rotten. So what is it that keeps me searching YouTube for poor quality videos of high school productions or sketchy rehearsal footage from abroad? Why have I twice spent actual money for bootlegs not nearly as good as what I can find online for free?

I think it’s all that scarred, broken, but ubiquitous hope shining out through the sleaze.

Now, I say my boy’s in heaven, and he’s tanning by the pool.
The cherubim walk with him and him, and Jesus says it’s cool!
They don’t have crime or hatred, there’s no bigotry or cursin’ –
Just friendly fellows dressed up like their favorite Village Person!
Well, I used to see a homo and go reachin’ for my gun –
But now I’ve learned to love – I love my dead gay son!
(“I Love My Dead Gay Son,” from Heathers: The Musical)

More specifically, my affection for this twisted musical stems from three basic sources…

First, there’s the whole “high school is brutal and terrifying” element which runs throughout. Even the popular and powerful kids are full of fears, insecurities, and foibles. We all know this – it’s not exactly news. But it’s portrayed so vividly here that it plucks my little educator heartstrings. While handled differently, it reminds me in many ways of the first three seasons of Buffy, the Vampire Slayer. In that world, typical high school struggles manifested as literal monsters for Buffy to, um… “slay.” In Heathers, those same struggles are simply hyperbolized, making the execution of various antagonists a bit harsher than watching Sarah Geller stake demons, vampires, or those rubbery fish-boys who ate the school nurse.

Either way, however, it’s worth remembering that when you’re seventeen, the stuff that’s happening to you in the cafeteria or at the dance may genuinely be the WORST thing that’s ever happened in your life to that point. Minimizing high school trauma – like belittling high school relationships – is ignorant and elitist. I’d also argue that when it comes to artistic expressions of that trauma – be it Sixteen Candles or Carrie – it’s important to recognize the difference between hyperbolized fiction and actually promoting homicide or romanticizing death. It’s art offering commentary on life… not a documentary or public service announcement. (You can tell by all the singing and the way the actors dress differently to play multiple roles.)

Deep inside of everyone there’s a hot ball of shame
Guilt, regret, anxiety – fears we dare not name
But, if we show the ugly parts that we hide away
They turn out to be beautiful by the light of day!
Why not shine, shine, shine a light on your deepest fears?
Let in sunlight now and your pain will disappear!
Shine, shine, shine – and your scars and your flaws
Will look lovely because you shine!
(“Shine A Light,” from Heathers: The Musical)

Second, I love the idea that hope and acceptance and making life suck less often means the most when done by messed up people in small, inadequate ways. I don’t think it’s much of a spoiler (it’s been over thirty years, after all) to reference the famous ending of the 1989 movie in which Veronica invites Martha (an outcast who botched her own suicide attempt) to rent some movies and make microwave popcorn. The musical closes on a similarly humble note. The massive celebratory group number is effectively post-curtain; the actual denouement (and the antidote to interpersonal horror) is an act of individual kindness and personal refusal to play those reindeer games.

We live in dark times. There are voices still insisting we can change the big problems, and maybe they’re right. It’s worth being reminded, however, that many of the most important things we can do start with much smaller acts. If I were going to start a religion, I’d probably focus on this sort of thing – the feeding, healing, helping, and encouraging of those most marginalized. (It’s a terrible way to take over the world, however, so I doubt it would ever catch on.)

The point is, Heathers – for all its hyperbole and theatrics – is anchored in small, one-on-one human relationships. It’s about the importance of how you speak to people at lunch or how you treat them when they do something embarrassing. These things are huge… because they’re small.

Everyone’s pushing. Everyone’s fighting.
Storms are approaching – there’s nowhere to hide.
If I say the wrong thing, or I wear the wrong outfit
They’ll throw me right over the side.
I’m hugging my knees and the captain is pointing –
Well, who made her captain?
Still, the weakest must go…
The tiniest lifeboat, full of people I know.
The tiniest lifeboat, full of people I know.
(“Lifeboat,” from Heathers: The Musical)

Finally – and I’m not necessarily proud of this one – I like how untethered it is by concerns of propriety or its own potential to offend pretty much anyone. While I’m weary and horrified at the ugliness of our political leaders, religious organizations, and societal spokespeople, I’ve never been able to get too worked up by “offensive” comedians or other artists. I’m not saying I find them all funny or enjoyable, or that I want my tax dollars to pay for crucifixes to get dunked in urine or whatever. There are plenty of people whose comments don’t interest me and whose words or music I find trite and desperate.

Nevertheless, I’m not a huge fan of censoring or shutting down voices I find problematic. Boycott those sponsors and label those lies when appropriate, but I can’t very well throw fits on social media about this or that joke, song, film, or tweet I found loathsome while lamenting the neo-book-burning recently begun by the Republican Party in schools across America. I realize not all speech is constitutionally protected and not all expressions should remain commercially profitable. I’m not ready to tattoo Protocols of the Elders of Zion on my bare butt and run through the mall naked “on principle” – but neither will I discourage true artists from questioning and challenging us via their art.

Plus, I suppose I love a good bit of juvenile snark when well-applied in service of the greater good. And, in the end, that’s what Heathers is all about. Hope in the midst of hell – even when that hell includes high school.

{Minor Update – The London version of Heathers: The Musical is streaming for free on Roku. You don’t have to buy anything or subscribe to anything to watch it. There are some updates to the show which aren’t important for first-timers to recognize, but it’s a high-quality live recording if you’re curious what I’m carrying on about. And just in case your’e wondering, I’m not getting anything out of this. Shockingly, I’m not that central to the British Musical scene.}