Few song intros have the transportive power of hearing Nelly proclaim, “It’s hot in... so hot in HERRE.” Suddenly it’s 2002 again, and the DJ at whatever club or bar mitzvah or prom you’re at is blasting the year’s most infectious party anthem. A horde of Aéropostale-clad eighth graders is shouting, “good gracious, ass is bodacious” and screaming about taking off their clothes. The air is thick with the scent of Princess by Vera Wang.
Whether you yearn for the days when people cared about the VMAs or you experience something akin to PTSD at the thought of low-rise jeans, chances are you have very visceral memories of the early aughts. And in her new film Senior Year, out Friday on Netflix, Rebel Wilson taps into that generational nostalgia with a feel-good comedy that takes her back to high school and back to the year of our Lord 2002.
Directed by Alex Hardcastle, Senior Year follows Stephanie Conway (Wilson), a woman who wakes up from a 20-year coma and decides to go back to high school to finish her senior year. As a teen played by Mare of Easttown’s Angourie Rice, Steph was the quintessential queen bee: a beautiful, popular cheer captain on the verge of losing her “bottom-half virginity” to her spiky-haired beau. Now 37 years old, she is desperate to have the perfect end to high school that she missed out on because of a cheerleading stunt gone horribly wrong. And in order to have the perfect senior year, she must be crowned prom queen, of course.
With the emotional age of a 17-year-old and the body of a woman nearing 40, Steph doesn’t know how to make sense of the new world she’s woken up to. Her nemesis from the cheer squad, Tiffany (Zoe Chao), married Steph’s high school boyfriend (Justin Hartley) and moved into her dream house. Her closest friends from her pre-coma life, played by Mary Holland and Sam Richardson, now work at their old high school as the principal and librarian, respectively.
Above all, though, Steph cannot wrap her head around the mentality of inclusivity, acceptance, and social awareness that seems to have overtaken the youth of 2022. When her new teen friends try to explain that there’s no lunch table hierarchy in the cafeteria, their insistence that “everybody is popular” does not compute. “Oh no, that’s not how life works,” Steph replies. “There’s only, like, three ways to become popular: to be a cheerleader, to work at Abercrombie, or to let guys go in the back door.”
The “woke” characterizations of the current high school students are definitely heavy-handed, like how a writer’s room of, well, 37-year-olds might imagine teenagers talk to one another. But their PC cheer routines about climate change and gun control, filtered through the lens of Stephanie’s bewildered judgment, are dripping with irony and provide some of the film’s funniest moments.
While Wilson’s deadpan one-liners mostly land, the hilarious Holland is unfortunately underutilized here. After so often playing the comic relief in films like Happiest Season, Holland instead plays the straight man to Wilson’s over-the-top personality. But she makes the most of what she’s given comedically, while also offering the most emotionally compelling narrative of the film when her character opens up about her struggles as a gay teen in high school.
The best thing about Senior Year is the soundtrack, which, in addition to the aforementioned Nelly bop, includes “Candy” by Mandy Moore, “Man! I Feel Like a Woman!” by Shania Twain, and “A Moment Like This” by Kelly Clarkson. There’s a dream sequence dance number to Britney Spears’ “Crazy” involving Wilson doing the actual choreography from the music video. You’ll want to add Christina Aguilera’s “Come on Over Baby (All I Want is You)” to all your playlists after watching. And hey, remember “She’s So High?” You certainly will, and yes, it still slaps.
The whole film is essentially an Easter egg hunt of throwback references—Tamagotchis, Ally McBeal, and butterfly clips abound. Steph suggests The Real World: New Orleans as a prom theme and affectionately calls everyone “skank.” Details like a lingering shot of the signature watermelon-colored tube of Great Lash mascara on a vanity table bring up long-buried memories of group trips to the girls’ bathroom between classes. Both thematically and aesthetically, there are obvious references to classic high school movies like Bring It On, Never Been Kissed, and American Pie. There’s even a cameo from one-time teen queen Alicia Silverstone.
While Senior Year may not be as laugh-out-loud funny as we want it to be, its tributes to the tackiness of the early aughts strike a fun balance between “what were we thinking?” cringeiness and loving reminiscence. It’s an easy-to-watch nostalgia trip worth taking.
