A Wallflower's Letters to Himself: So High School.

"The Perks of Being A Wallflower"

Wallflowers may linger on the edge, but they’re far from outsiders.

Based on the novel of the same name, the film follows a quiet teenage boy who, after surviving a whirlwind of tumultuous events in his previous couple of years, befriends a group of also "quirky" seniors during his freshman year. From awkwardly tiptoeing through high school to finally finding his stride, he stumbles upon both his place in the world and his true self—one misstep at a time.

Rating: 7.8/10

Drama, 103 minutes, PG-13, 2012

Written and directed by:

Steven Chbosky

I suppose, I'm fortunate enough to, have crossed paths with this indie piece back when I was still clinging to my outdated superstition about teen movies—though, truth be told, I’m confident that no matter the stage of life, some incarnation of my former self would have been utterly smitten by this picture. 

As my eyes once again pause on each of these individuals in the picture above—looking in different directions, as if seeking some hidden escape—the stadium and bleachers appear to belong to them only in its most vacant state. They're still on the edge. This is a story about staking a claim for the overlooked, the non-conformists, the 'odd numbers' in a world obsessed with perfect symmetry—'the majority,' or as they prefer to be known, "the even ones." They're the smudges scribbled in the margins by hormones and a healthy disregard for the status quo. I’ve just realized I have a thing for dashes and am, a slave to my own syntactic pedantry.

I might want to ease up on the dash addiction, but hey, who’s counting?

All jokes aside. Click-Clacks of a typewriter, accompanied the voice of a teenage boy kicked off the movie, much reminded me of the beginning of the musical "Dear Evan Hansen", both narrating in a letter to oneself or another, a common method in therapy to restore self-identity and confidence. Let’s face it, pep talks are rarely self-delivered; they’re the specialty of friends, family, and anyone not currently spiraling in a pit of self-doubt. From there, the story serves up a relatable dose of involuntary solitude, embodied by a protagonist who sees himself as persona non grata, dreading the thought of braving school halls teeming with indifferent hormone junkies.

Charlie (Logan Lerman), the quintessential quiet kid—a high school freshman, no less—experiences what should be a rising-action chapter of his life as more of a countdown. Surrounded by the hum of the crowd, he feels thoroughly out of place, preferring to stay muted in his corner. His life, stuck on repeat, has a suffocating rhythm. Then, like every once in a while you meet someone iridescent in your life (see what I did there?), Patrick (Ezra Miller) and Sam (Emma Watson) enter the scene.

Patrick, a senior, is a whirlwind of wit and flamboyance, the kind of guy who lights up every room he steps into—think class clown, but with sharper edges and a more fabulous wardrobe. Sam, his half-sister, is warm and radiant, her smile the kind of thing that feels like home. They’re the ones who reach out to Charlie, not with pity but with something rare: genuine kindness. It’s not a rescue mission, just an open door, and Charlie, disoriented but hopeful, walks through.

Their little crew might not be winning any popularity contests, but they’re bound together by a love that’s unapologetically real. Patrick is tall, lanky, and unapologetically gay, while Sam is effortlessly lovable, a mix of charm and depth that makes Charlie’s heart do an embarrassing little flip. Of course, she’s got a boyfriend (as if things could be that easy), and she kindly nudges Charlie away from romance and toward friendship instead.

Through them, Charlie stumbles into a cast of misfits: Mary Elizabeth (Mae Whitman), a quasi-punk with a sharp tongue and a definite interest in dating him, and Bob (Adam Hagenbuch), a pothead philosopher who ushers Charlie into the kind of reckless teenage escapades that make for great stories—if you’re lucky enough to live through them.

It’s messy, awkward, and just a little thrilling—exactly what adolescence should be.

I don’t want to spoil all the clever bits and heartfelt moments in this movie—and trust me, I’m already fighting the urge to spill it all. That’s the tricky part about writing movie reviews without diving headfirst into scholarly analysis: I’m driven by sheer self-indulgence, even though I know better. Basically, I’m walking a fine line between charm and disaster.

High school—what a ride, huh? For those counting down the days till it’s over, packed with cringe-worthy choices and emotional rollercoasters, and for those basking in their self-proclaimed popularity: this is a movie about the misfits. It’s about figuring out what love even means, making impulsive decisions that end up hurting your closest friends, and feeling like you just sabotaged the only people who truly have your back. It’s about saying goodbye, finding your footing, and carving out your spot on this spinning rock we call home.

This movie’s got love, but not the glossy, rom-com kind. It’s the kind that shows up when your friends secretly go all out for Secret Santa, pouring their hearts into thoughtful gifts. It’s dragging your shy buddy onto the dance floor at prom, making them feel like the world outside the room doesn’t even exist. It’s standing up for them when the so-called "popular kids" get out of line—no hesitation, no second-guessing. Singing at the top of your lungs while standing in the back of a truck, feeling the wind blowing through the tunnel, moments of freedom are indeed making people reminiscent.

And can we take a moment to appreciate humanities teachers? Hands down, the most understanding adults in high school. Like Mr. Anderson (played by Paul Rudd—because, of course, Paul Rudd) in The Perks of Being a Wallflower. He sees the spark in Charlie, gives him his own favorite novel for Christmas, and speaks with that soft, knowing kindness only a true mentor has.

Remember this iconic exchange:

Charlie: Mr. Anderson, can I ask you something?

Bill: Sure.

Charlie: Why do nice people pick the wrong people to date?

(cue Charlie’s soul-crushing nod of acknowledgment)

Bill: Well... we accept the love we think we deserve.

Charlie: Can we make them see they deserve more?

Bill: We can try.

So, with the holidays just around the corner, go all out. Celebrate. Have fun. But don’t forget the ones who love you most—they’re the real gift. 🎄

11/20/2024