Earlier in 2018, Disney Channel released Z-O-M-B-I-E-S, a musical about a cheerleader who falls in love with a zombie. A neon pink and green, Disneyfied Warm Bodies, complete with the obvious thematic naming convention of its main character – R and and Julia, meet Addison and Zed. It is poppy, upbeat, and definitely cringey. I loved every fucking second.
This probably sounds like a post about me finding my own “guilty pleasure,” unexpected gold. No. I love Disney Channel original movies. I always have. I floated the idea of a podcast reviewing them before realizing no one else my age seems to like them. You will find very few DCOMs I don’t like – and the same goes with anything in the same style. The reason for this has been something I’ve been trying to dig up for some time.
So here’s a cool segue: I am clinically depressed. I have been since I was around twelve, which was also when I was diagnosed as autistic, and a couple of years before any doctor would admit that, after many incidents hiding in school supply closets and vomiting before tests, that I might have an anxiety disorder. Regardless of the varying range of diagnoses, rest assured that I have been a disaster for pretty much my entire life.
Because I was being consumed by my own malfunctioning brain from a very young age, I realized after a while – perhaps after a few too many first-day “icebreakers” and “how would you describe yourself?” – that I…didn’t really know what kind of person I was. I didn’t know what write down as my “likes” – I didn’t like anything. I didn’t know how to describe what made me happy – nothing made me happy. I didn’t even have a comprehensive list of things I didn’t like, because a lot of times depression isn’t the same as hating the world – for me at least, it was completely lacking any desire to be a part of it.
I’ll bury my first theory deep in here: maybe my interests are so “immature” because I didn’t enjoy them when it was appropriate, and now I need to explore this because I didn’t think I’d make it this far.
Or because a I fucking love musicals.
I really do. My family was huge on them – my brother and I wore out a cassette tape of selections from Cats, allegedly, though I think my dad probably chucked it out the window. My brother was in most school plays in some form. I tried out for Les Miz my junior year and did not get any part at all. I have an entire playlist of soundtracks from stage and screen musicals. Mostly pedestrian stuff, Hamilton and Dear Evan Hansen and Be More Chill, like all the kids. But it’s fucking great. The soundtrack to Mean Girls? Iconic.
But listen – a lot of those Broadway musicals, the ones that win Tony after Tony? They’re bummers. Man, Les Miz is a bummer. Evan Hansen does not get the girl. The SQUIP might still be active and take over the world. High school still sucks. Alexander Hamilton has been dead for 200 slutty, slutty years.
And listen – I’m all for great narratives, I hope I’m writing them. I admire good pacing and exposition, I live for well thought out plots and characters. But sometimes I just don’t need ‘em. Let my brain hibernate, entertained by pretty colors and catchy songs. Let me fall asleep to the High School Musical trilogy. Let me sink into that early-2000s abyss of glitter and Grease rip-offs.
As much as I want to think they’re getting “better,” whatever that means, Disney Channel movies, especially the musicals, follow a standard beat sheet. Usually very heteronormative and mostly about high school popularity. And that’s business, I guess. Know your audience. I am part of your audience, Disney, and it’s somehow still working on me so serve it up. The only ones I can think of that really stray are Lemonade Mouth (which is based on a book I was thrilled to hear there would be a movie about) and aforementioned Z-O-M-B-I-E-S. The former has the benefit of pre-written source material to grab from, while the latter just pleases me by having the main couple actually communicate and be supportive of one another, and not relying on a big misunderstanding or lie as the hinge that holds the movie together.
Would I have liked it better if it was a little gayer? Yes, but I can say that about a lot of things. I could write a full dissertation on why everything could be a little gayer, that doesn’t make this musical zombie romance less enjoyable.
Nothing is really holding it together, to be honest, it’s a mess, but I will defend it with my dying breath.
Formula does not have to be bad. I stand by that. If you like it, like it with reckless abandon.
We, as human beings, all have a comfort zone, and sometimes retreating into that zone for a little while (say about 90 minutes) is okay. You should obviously be striving toward self-improvement, be working hard, but dude you can’t be always on. I would not have survived my first two years as an MFA student if I had to act like I wasn’t a fucking weirdo, if I hadn’t begun starting conversations at parties with “hi, I’m socially anxious but I need to branch out, how are you? I’m terrified right now.”
Be true to yourself, because in the end you’re stuck with yourself for the rest of your damn life. Are you going to be sitting in your easy chair at 70 wishing you’d analyzed the HSM trilogy a little better? Or are you going to just know that Ryan is definitely gay, and that they only paired him with Kelsi in the third movie is because people kept saying either that or that he and Sharpay banged on the reg, and that he should have ended up with Chad, but you also like Taylor so there should be some healthy polyamory going on but everyone in 2006-2009 was a fucking coward? Those are the stories you pass on to the grandkids.
Anyway, that’s kinda it. My next post, after I move, will probably be about serial killers or something.
–Brynn
Noise From The Basement 