Review: "Eighth Grade" Finds the Comedic Heart of Wanting to Be Accepted

Elsie Fisher in Eighth Grade

In the opening scene of director Bo Burnham's Eighth Grade, Kayla (Elsie Fisher) stares into the camera, distorting her image with pixelation as she espouses tips on how to be a better person. But here's the question: how does a middle-class, socially awkward kid know what's best for the world? Throughout the course of the comedy, there's an exploration of self that delves into the typical awkward phases of childhood, especially on the cusp of the highly romanticized high school years, and wonders how anyone knows anything. With the adults poorly using contemporary slang such as "lit" and "dabbing," the film already feels like a miscommunication, that nobody could understand Kayla. So how then can she expect people to understand her views on how to be a confident person through YouTube videos, of which reach a tragically low amount of people? The answer is one of the most painstaking, honest, and funny comedies of the summer that finds a way to take characters who do nothing but look at phones and find their inner humanity.

There's a certain irony to Kayla's YouTube videos, of which become her own personal words of wisdom throughout the film. As much as she says great yet generic ideas, her life is quite the opposite. She records a video on confidence, but soon finds at a birthday party that she's insecure. It becomes painful when the reality becomes that the only world that she knows, and who is willing to give her advice, is the internet. It's a world run on endorphins distributed by Instagram 'like' buttons, and pictures with funny filters. It's where everyone can take meaningless pictures of themselves looking cool and have it be their defining feature. Since Kayla is in eighth grade, it's hard to argue that she has much of an identity, instead trying to form her own through a world that isn't tactile. Any friends she tries to make in the real world immediately dismiss her for something on their phone. Kayla is an everygirl in that she tries to belong, but in reality struggles to believe her own hype.

Burnham is himself a viral video sensation, having been made famous through comedic sketches and songs over the past decade. It makes sense then that he knows the struggle to belong as he films these prepubescent children going through struggles that are rather universal, but new at that age. The idea of feeling like an outcast, being harassed by boys, or feeling like your father (Josh Hamilton) is walking in on you as you discover your sexuality. There's plenty that's awkward about Kayla's life, and Burnham manages to find the realness in every moment. With an electric pulse of a score by Anna Meredith, he creates this romantic vision of middle school that is in its own ways as self-reflexive and mature as someone could be. There's still the acne, the feeling that parents don't understand, and just the belief that it's possible to be wise beyond your years. Burnham's camera manages to find moments that have traces of ugliness and discomfort and give them an honest light. This is a world that is familiar, even if the audience didn't go to school in the age of social media. He understands that even if a camera reprogrammed how everyone talks to each other, it's still striving for the same acceptance.

Eighth Grade is quite possibly one of the first of few films that understands the modern era's reliance on social media. It's inescapable as a feature in film nowadays, but few films have managed to explore how the internet impacts lives better than Burnham. It isn't just that it consumes time, but more importantly why it does. How does having Snapchat make preteens more "adult" than a generation before? The film is very candid about what kids do for attention, but it also manages to use the meditative glow of a screen as Kayla scrolls through Buzzfeed articles and pictures for hours on end as a way to explore deeper texts. It's a desire to be this artificial self, this one that is more perfect than the acne-ridden, insecure girl who also can't say a full sentence in front of boys. It's one full of hormones and desperation, trying to be an authentic self when the opposite is what people desire more. By focusing on middle school students instead of something more typical like high school or college-aged characters, Burnham also tears back a view at how young this behavior starts, and inevitably how it shapes the rest of their lives.

It also helps that Fisher gives one of the year's best performances. For starters, she embodies the awkward nature of a young girl, doing her best to break through and become something greater. She wants to be a viral sensation, whose wisdom impacts many. Instead, she's still got years ahead to finally look like more than a child. She stares at other girls, wondering why she can't be that pretty, or why they can't talk to her. Even her wardrobe is at times disparagingly different from others. While the film never establishes too well that there's a popular crowd, there's still that sense that Kayla isn't part of it, and the ability for Fisher to embody that slow, optimistic view of the future is an endearing part of the film. She sells the kindness and the timid, observational nature in ways that make her story seem almost autobiographical. It also helps that Hamilton's work as her father develops into a heartwarming and powerful relationship in the third act.

It's incredible to think that Burnham could a make a film this aesthetically pleasing and this philosophically perplexing. While his stand-up has generally been entertaining, he looks to have a second act in his career as director, and hopefully will continue to find the humanity in 21st century culture. Many films have used phones for humor or plot devices, but Burnham has found a way to give it depth, to find why everyone is so attracted to it. Eighth Grade's obsession with the authentic self is an ironic tool, but it inevitably reflects the heart of childhood and how there's a desire to belong. It isn't just that the internet is a distraction, but that it now allows a permanent digital footprint to connect even the most introverted of kids, no matter how awkward. Take the phone away, and Kayle feels like any great teenage character, full of angst and desperation. It's a miracle that this doesn't feel forced or insincere, but even more-so it proves that movies about using social media can have depth. The matter is just being willing to understand the psychology behind it all.