![]() Of course the students’ liberal maturity is a joke too: one of them, pretty-boy Eric (Dave Franco, younger brother of actor James but a visual sibling to Tom Cruise, or maybe the grandson of Montgomery Clift), is peddling a hellacious hallucinogen known as HFS. “If only I’d been born 10 years later!” Meaning he wouldn’t have got beat up so frequently. “Environmental awareness, being tolerant,” Schmidt says in wonder. Yet the school seems like Eden, with studious and socially enlightened kids. The girls are nice and the boys are good looking at Sagan High, which two raw Officers - the dumb jock Jenko (Channing Tatum) and the clever misfit Schmidt (Jonah Hill) - have just infiltrated to bust a suspected drug lord. Cannell TV series about young cops working undercover in high schools, and whose only justification was that it starred Johnny Depp in his showbiz infancy- is that it tilts some of the clichés in the general direction of my rosy memories. One of the appeals of 21 Jump Street - a rough comic makeover of the 1987 Stephen J. They must have been left back about 11 times. As it is, though, every teen movie looks to me as if it were set in a school called Fantasy High, where the students are all in their mid-20s or older. That way, I could see the tropes in these films as sweet or painful personal flashbacks, rather than cinematic conventions as remote from my experience as a Western gunfight or a Martian romance. Joe’s, or at least an extracurricular activity. Watching high-school movies - almost any high-school movie, from Porky’s through the John Hughes oeuvre to the genre’s current apotheosis and parody, 21 Jump Street - makes me wish that student unrest had been part of the curriculum at old St. The place was less like The Blackboard Jungle‘s North Manual High, more like the sedate Hailsham in Never Let Me Go. And though some of the kids had started to drink, nobody pushed dope in the study hall. Our school was in what might have been called a rough neighborhood, but we weren’t preyed on by taunting townies. I don’t recall any ritual humiliations - you know, jocks thumping some shy nerd against a locker. Mine lacked thugs-in-training, flirtatious teachers and warring cliques more ferocious than the Crips and the Bloods. Follow must have gone to the wrong high school.
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