Mid90s: The Absence of Skill
“You're just a little kid.”
From its opening gates, Jonah Hill’s Mid90s presents a protagonist without anything to do. Stevie is bored. As audience members who are fluent in storytelling, we assume that he is going to be given an activity, a skill, anything to push the story forward. And then, not shortly after the movie starts, there it is— skateboarding.
When it comes to specific skills of characters, whether it be cooking, combat, playing a sport, or any other skill under the sun, they are usually either good at that particular skill or bad at it. This statement may seem obvious, but to understand the inner workings of Mid90s’ storytelling, it is groundwork that needs to be laid. These skills, whatever they may be, that characters have are usually the driving force behind a film’s plot. If, in the beginning of a film, a character is good at something, the film will usually revolve around the character using their skill to achieve a goal. This is seen in Maverick from Top Gun (1986), Bryan Mills from Taken (2008), and Andrew Neiman from Whiplash (2014), to name a few. In order to get to the end the film, these protagonists have to use their proficiencies of flying, fighting, and drumming, respectively.
On the other hand, there are films where the protagonist is unskilled or incompetent at a skill is needed. Therefore, throughout the course of the movie, the character will have to either become proficient at the skill or show enough competency to achieve whatever it is they are trying to accomplish. This is seen in protagonists like Daniel LaRusso from The Karate Kid (1984), Mia Thermopolis from The Princess Diaries (2001), and Prince Albert from The King’s Speech (2010). Characters like these must transform into people who are proficient in karate, etiquette, and public speaking in order to progress.
Of course, there are characters who have hobbies that are not necessarily integrated into the plot of a film. Leon in Leon the Professional has a knack for plants. Shaun in Shaun of the Dead enjoys video games. Frances in Frances Ha dances. Usually these are skills that are part of the character’s design before the plot starts. They are character traits and skills that have already been attained before the story. They are meant to give a fuller sense of character and not drive plot. Side characters and antagonists often have skills and hobbies for the purpose of world building and character differentiation.
Mid90s is somewhat of an anomaly when it comes to the relationship between skill and plot. In the beginning of the film, our thirteen year old protagonist, Stevie, played by Sunny Suljic, is malleable— an outcast rendered directionless by a bully of a brother and a coddling mother. He is at the age where interests among kids begin to differentiate. In terms of Stevie’s skills, he has none that are primary. He often peruses through his brother’s room, obviously interested in the knickknacks that adolescence has to offer, but in terms of things that Steve can actually do, we are not presented with any. It is common in films about people who can’t really do anything, that they find a skill they are good at and pursue it. They discover, they learn, they apply. That is the makeup of the story. The protagonists of Boogie Nights and Nightcrawler have this journey of skill development and usage in their respective plots. Mid90s also shares the beginnings of this type of story journey.
Even if you haven’t seen Mid90s, the promotional material and trailers have already included skate culture in them. We have already seen Stevie skateboarding in the trailer, so as we watch, we wait for his skateboarding journey to begin. And then it does. Sort of.
When Stevie first sees the group of skateboarders that he spends most of the movie with, his initial reaction is to pursue skateboarding because it is the thing that is going to get him included in the group. Thus, trades his brother some video games for an old skateboard. After going outside and falling a lot, he goes into the skate shop where the skaters hang out and suddenly, not even 20 minutes into the film, he becomes part of the group. Mission accomplished. We as the audience are put in a strange position. We were presented the skill of skateboarding— something that needs practice. We are expecting to be able to track progress. We are expecting benchmarks. That is what we look for in films concerning skill— progress. In the strange case of Mid90s, progress never happens.
For the most part, other than one throw away (almost accidental) trick never seen again in again in the rest of the film, Stevie remains at the same level of skateboarding. The main point is, he can ride. Albeit, he is always last in the pack of boys, but he can ride. And because his skill never develops, the film has suddenly become like Stevie in the beginning of the movie, directionless. Stevie’s character may now have something to do, but as viewers, we still have no clue what is going to happen next in the plot. We are fluent enough in visual literacy and storytelling to be able to predict story beats and plot points, but Mid90s looks right back at the people watching it and challenges our brains. Just like how Stevie yearns to be acknowledged by society, Mid90s yearns to be acknowledged by its audience. This contrast between the film, that goes against the grain of expectation, and its protagonist, who forces himself into the world of skateboarding, creates a tension when watching. Stevie knows what he is going to do next, but we don’t.
This tension also comes from the fact that we are watching Stevie’s skateboarding happen on screen as a hobby and not a skill used to drive the plot forward. From when he first learns to ride, he plateaus in skill level. Even near the end of the film, he has been hanging out with the group for months and he is still dragging his feet, still falling. Instead of using skill to inform plot, Mid90s uses the absence of skill to inform Stevie’s character. Skateboarding is a vessel into Stevie’s degradation. It soon becomes clear. Stevie, for most of the film, has zero interest in actually skateboarding. His interests lie in only in social perks and status.
Mid90s is a film about what happens when the skills we choose to begin are only used to fuel ulterior motives. Stevie’s transformation from a mushy and directionless tween into an ill-mannered defiant imp is result from his desire for attention and respect. He takes the easy route, skateboarding for notoriety and the feeling of rebellion. We meet Stevie’s opposite in the leader of the skate crew, Ray, a skater who’s sole focus is finding a way to make a living out of skateboarding and becoming a pro. For him, skateboarding is not a way in, but a way out. A way out of poverty, stereotype, and mediocrity. Ray’s skating is the skill which we wish to see manifested through Stevie.
There is a powerful scene where these two foil characters meet. An inspiring speech is given from Ray to Stevie: Why we skate. And suddenly, a breakthrough seems to have been made. They skateboard through the night. Here comes the satisfaction of seeing Stevie succeed. Here comes the plot beats that we were predicting. Certainly after a film with just the fall, we will get a rise. Alas, Mid90s has other plans.
Contrary to our notion of how skills operate in storytelling, Stevie continues to fall deeper and faster than before. We see skateboarding. We hear skateboarding. Yet we are not presented with skateboarding. Mid90s, whether successful or not, presents us with what happens when skills and progress are taken for granted. To take on a skill and choose to do the bare minimum is a perversion of the human ability to learn and grow. This is why films about skills and progress are the norm. They result in triumph and perseverance. From the reviews of the film, Stevie’s infinite descent is perceived as either groundbreaking, unique storytelling or shoddy character development. We end the film with no knowledge of whether or not Stevie will learn from his actions (or inactions).
In casting Mid90s, Hill chose Suljic, a incredibly skilled skateboarder, to play a character far below his real life skill level. In another version of this film, Sunny Suljic is most likely kick-flipping and rail-grinding his way to acceptance. However, Suljic translates his talent of skateboarding into his character’s insatiability and hunger for respect. In a film threaded by an actor’s particular skill (in this case, skateboarding), it is strange to never see that skill progress into a caliber that matches real life. We often see characters who are good at what they do, and we sometimes see characters who are bad at what they do. But rarely do we ever see characters who stay mediocre and stay plateaued— especially in the rapidly changing time period of the 90s.
As an audience, our notion of plot is challenged by Jonah Hill’s meandering script, always shy of what we expect. From preconceived ideas about the way skills drive story, to the film’s coming-of-age veil, we watch Mid90s expecting a rise, but only ever getting a fall. The poster for the film is Stevie staring down at us as if we are on the ground. His expression is one of concern— of understanding. It is a face that knows the consequences of staying down for too long, an epilogue to the events of the movie. It is a simple poster, but it echoes the true nature of the film’s protagonist:
Without a skateboard, head in the clouds, just a little kid.