Feel the Pain

Rarely have I seen the tortures and traumas of adolescence zeroed in under the microscope as well as they are on Freaks and Geeks. The short-lived TV show traces the travails of the Weir siblings Sam and Lindsay and their small circle of friends, family, acquaintances and foes. Sam and his chums Bill Haverchuck and Neil Schweiber represent the geek half of the titular equation. Bill’s like an exponentially magnified version of Paul Pfeiffer from The Wonder Years, all lanky awkwardness, dorky demeanor and perpetually gaping mouth. Neil’s the smart-alecky, sweater vest wearing Jew, always quick with a corny quip or canard. But Sam arguably gets fucked with the most. Woefully shy and shrimpy for his age he continually shoulders abuse at the hands of his peers. Oddly enough, he’s the most promising and endearing of the three. Lindsay, former mathelete and brainiac, aligns with the freak camp, hanging out with the stoners and burnouts in the ennui-inducing wake of the death of her grandmother in an attempt to shed her former image. Leading that side of the cast are James Franco as the rougishly vacant slacker chieftain Daniel Desario and Jason Segal as Neil Peart-obssessed loafer Nick Andopolis. The ep that leads in with Nick ‘practicing’ on headphones in his basement to Rush’s “Spirit of Radio” on a 29-piece drum kit tricked out with spiraling rainbow stage lights & DIY fog machine (dry ice dropped in a metal bucket) had me rolling on the floor.

The school faculty and parental characters are just as biting and sardonic. Jean and Harold Weir are the typically well meaning, but bumbling parents largely oblivious to the troubles that are a daily tax on their children’s lives. Coach Fredricks comes on like that gung ho jocko gym teacher you always hated. Mr. Rosso riffs as the reality check version of the hippy dippy guidance counselor from Beavis & Butthead, painfully unhip in his forced faux hipness. But none are caricatures and there’s surprising depth and range to their behavior. A modest but effective array of guest stars grace the screen as well including Jason Schwartzman as a slippery fake Id salesman who works a cover gig in a men’s boutique. The show is bursting with meticulous detailed late-70s/early-80s nostalgia. From striped velour Izod™ shirts to high-water Toughskins™ the wardrobes of the cast are spot on. So is the music, which runs a wide gamut from arena rock ringers like Kiss, Styx and Van Halen to the cheesiest delegates from the AM dial including Kenny Loggins, Journey and Billy Joel.

Plot lines dance around familiar themes: cutting class, starting a garage band, falling in with the ‘wrong’ crowd, generally bearing the brunt of ridicule and ostracization & trying your damnedest not to go insane negotiating the long, booby-trapped road to adulthood. What’s most impressive to me is the degree of gravitas that permeates each episode- even when leavened with often side-splitting humor many of the stories tread regions that are mordant and unsparing in their depiction of the demoralizing high school condition. A bitter pill to swallow when you stack the show against such comparatively candy-coated fare as any of the teenage tripe on the WB or UPN and reason enough as to why the show was sadly shelved in its first season with only 12 of the 18 taped episodes actually broadcast. The dvd set, a direct result of rabid fan lobbying, does the show’s memory proud and is brimming with extras including scores of commentaries, deleted scenes, production notes and other assorted ephemera. It’s a damn shame this show hit the skids so early, but the frayed silver lining is that it never had a chance to slip in quality.