Thoughts on Ja’mie: Private School Girl

I have put off writing this review because, initially, I wasn’t comfortable submitting to my honest opinion. I am a loyal fan of satire, from Monty Python’s Life of Brian to Waiting for Guffman, from SNL to The Colbert Report, from Trey Parker and Matt Stone to Sasha Baron Cohen. I love a risqué joke that is searingly self-aware. I laughed out loud reading American Psycho. I devoured books like White Girl Problems and Dirty Rush. Growing up, I adored Eloise—a hyperbolic portrayal of a rich spoiled brat that doesn’t feel hyperbolic at all. Eloise’s brazen behavior feels unacceptable to the point of being lovable. Reading Eloise was my earliest memory of allowing myself to laugh at a character who I knew was a bit of an asshole.

Feeling comfortable enough to laugh at anything is a privledge. Something about Ja’mie feels a little too on-the-nose for comfort, even for a satire. Characters like Borat or Bruno do cringe-worthy things, but I don’t dirty laughing at their antics because those characters are so far removed from what I encounter on a daily basis. It’s easy to laugh from a distance. Ja’mie isn’t like that; she feels like someone I grew up with. Her environment feels like a not-so-skewed version of my high school in the late 90s. Characters like Borat and Bruno are morons who have heart. Ja’mie? Not so much. Ja’mie is—through and through—a terrible person.

So when I say I loved this show, what I mean is I loved it as a SATIRE.

 

Shelley Duvall’s Cigarette Explains SATIRE

Ja’mie: Private School Girl is filmed mockumentary-style, capturing the reality television spirit of the mid 2000s. It follows Ja’mie, a prep school prefect at an all-girls private school in Sydney, Australia. Ja’mie, played by Chris Lilley, is a pretty, popular, domineering tour de force who has one goal: win the Hillford Medal, which is awarded annually to the top Year 12 Hillford student who displays excellence in all facets of academic life.

Reveling in her role as a head prefect, Ja’mie exhibits all the behaviors that a wholesome teenage might not. She is a boy-crazy, elitist, racist, homophobic, body-shaming, foul-mouthed, spoiled brat who will go to any lengths to maintain her looks and social status as a top Hillford girl.

And Linda, I could not look away.

Lilley’s performance is so committed, so convincing, I found myself suspending disbelief that Ja’mie was a real person. Good drag is an illusion. While Lilley’s physical illusion of Ja’mie is not convincing, the spirit of it is. In fact, I think that’s what champions the show’s absurdity; despite Lilley’s masculine qualities, you find yourself believing that Ja’mie is one the prettiest, most popular girls in school. Lilley’s coarseness on the outside mirrors Ja’mie’s coarseness on the inside. (Sorry, I didn’t want to use the word ugly—Chris Lilley, you are not ugly, I’ve seen pictures of you. You’re lovely, you look like Tobey Maguire’s more adventurous cousin. I’d party with you.)

I won’t go too deep into the show’s content, but over the course of six episodes, we follow Ja’mie as she navigates her last year at Hillford. She goes to class, hangs with her friends, dates her crush, she sings, dances, does “charity” work, all while being a manipulative lush whose ass-backwards bigotry deserves a hard bitch-slapping from the Asian lesbian community (watch the show, you’ll get the joke).

What it is about prep schools that just works in fictional storytelling? Harry Potter. Gossip Girl. School Ties. The Little Princess. I assume it has something to do with exclusivity—having an all-access backstage pass to how the affluent class lives. Which would explain why most stories follow behind the shoulder of a more “lowly” main character (Max in Rushmore. Charlie in Scent of a Woman. Mia in The Princess Diaries.). What other gated-communities do we often find ourselves drawn to? Crazy Rich Asians and Saltburn make a good show of how we fetishize excessive wealth and beauty. Grey’s Anatomy and Nip/Tuck sold us on the facade that doctors are horny AF. I’ve certainly watched Burnt more times than I care to admit. My favorite though? Convents. Thank you, Sister Act. Thank you, Benedetta.

So, why 4 stars? Why not 5? While it succeeds in its ability to delight an audience who enjoys seeing bad people do bad things while under the delusion of thinking they’re a good person, the show never quite touches the heart of being a girl in high school. A mockumentary often sacrifices plot to stand on the shoulders of its quirky characters, riding the comedic tension between the environment and what those quirky characters do that counteracts that environment. No matter how grating or cringe-worthy the journey, there is almost always a pivotal moment that pulls back the curtain on the overall joke, revealing the heart underneath it. In Waiting for Guffman, cast members bond over efforts to put a good show. In What We Do in the Shadows, vapid vampires feed on humans, but still manage to give off warm found-family vibes. Even South Park has moments of sincerity, always leaving room for some beat of empathy no matter how offensive the topic might be. Ja’mie lacks heart, not just in its main character but in the show overall. We never see where her true vulnerably lies. Even when Ja’mie flubs her dance number she’s been practicing all year, hoping the performance might secure her spot as the Hillford Medal recipient, we never really feel the weight of that failure because we’re never allowed to see how much Ja’mie truly cares about anything in a way that isn’t shallow. Having said that, her awesomely absurd closing speech/presentation at graduation does carry a certain tits-out feminist swan song quality, acting almost as a closing argument to Ja’mie’s overall manifesto: I’m learning to be me. I won’t spoil the ending, but it was pitch perfect. Definitely the deciding factor between 3 stars and 4.

If you like politically-incorrect mockumentaries that walk a fine line between absurd and offensive, this might be the show for you.

JA’MIE: PRIVATE SCHOOL GIRL | Created by Chris Lilley | ABC (Australian Broadcasting Corporation) & HBO
Premiere date: October 23, 2013

 

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