"Pen15" and Authentic Adolescence

 

The first time I watched Pen15, I caught my friend starting the first minutes of the show's third episode. It was a fitting introduction to the most outrageous parts the show is willing to explore and depict: an unapologetic, unabashed look into the coming-of-age genre. Maya Erksine, as her younger self— with an embarrassing bowl-cut to punctuate the awkwardness of middle school— going to town on herself hits all the marks of the shocking content that defines hilarious comedy. 

The act transgresses certain boundaries (pubescent female sexuality mostly left hidden and discussed in media for various reasons) to make a bit of social commentary and get a laugh at the same time. It's relatable enough of a moment to push past the image's discomfort and recognize the truth behind Maya's enthusiasm. The narratives of the younger Anna and Maya played by older actresses could have easily slid into the realm of grating and annoying exaggerated. Still, because the actresses also double as the lead writers, the show becomes a self-representational method. The closeness to the experience depicted elevates the show from the typical fare within the genre. Where writers fumble at understanding their subjects, out of touch both in age and cultural understanding, Pen15 ensures that kindness and empathy shine through the inherent cringe of adolescence. 

The rest of the ensemble cast includes actual child actors, and at some points, sure, that can be distracting. Certain scenes that imply physical contact or just bare desire coming from the leads towards their crushes take a bit of work to push past. The deep love between the two middle-schoolers— actually inspired by the leads' real-life adult friendship and ease— distracts from any jarring effect caused by their on-screen presence. It's easy because Maya and Anna have an intimate friendship that I'm not sure I've ever experienced myself or seen on-screen— and it's weird and nuanced enough for comedic and emotional material. Anna and Maya promise to reach every seventh-grade milestone together: from kissing, drinking, and parties. The friendship especially becomes a precious safety-net against the social pressures of the early aughts suburbia. There is an earnest co-dependency between them, full of love, possession, and support (I love the episodes where they show that friendship can be the instigator for the worst feelings of jealousy and insecurities). "How gross can I feel if you do it too?" Anna assures Maya when she shares her secret shame and discovers it's not that odd. It mattered just as much to me as it did to Maya to know that she had someone who would attempt to understand her and experience things alongside her unconditionally. Besides being shockingly funny, Pen15 prioritizes the feel and look of all the feelings of anxiety, yearning, and emotional suffering that make it such a genuine effort of understanding childhood. 

The autobiographical aspect makes the show's structuring of Maya's mixed-race background especially interesting, considering how it intertwines microaggressions into its narrative rather than making race its central issue. The early 2000s setting has something to do with this, being the heyday of the postracial illusion where race seems like a non-sequitur. There are other episodes (like the sixth) in the first season that directly deal with the issue, but overall, Pen15 relegates ethnicity and difference through the domestic sphere and white spaces. The show equally delves into both characters' personal lives, but Maya's interactions with her immigrant mother are tender and fraught with an intergenerational difference. Anna's parents' impending divorce hurts; Maya's circling her mother then running towards her feels like a well-needed intervention. Their dynamic doesn't hide the tension that can exist between the traditional immigrant figure and second-generation youth. But it does not villainize the mother as the obstacle to Maya's developing individuality as some have critiqued Cho's All-American Girl of doing. Maya's rampant masturbation also acts as an innovative, hilarious blend of ethnic identity and adolescent experimentation, where the parental culture doesn't impart sexual knowledge, so the discovery of sexual urges feels simultaneously precious, undiscovered, and guilt-inducing. The duo doesn't fare any better at school, where scenes of actual children teasing them are frequent and yet somehow still hurtful. However, Maya, branded as the UGIS (Ugliest Girl in School), acutely reminds the audience how much race can plague daily interactions and personal narrative. 

Pen15 doesn't try to hide that it is squarely a coming-of-age venture. As the two actresses reconstruct their complicated experiences as teenagers, the show also navigates genre tropes. The entire misc-en-scene hinges on nostalgia imagery that clues us into period details, but the school setting also allows them to explore the protagonists' resistance and experimentation from the social vicissitudes of adolescent feelings. Which is to say, the kids act weird, and you perfectly understand why because you've been there. Middle school has always felt like a fraught time, where if you don't do something quickly, your entire life may be over. Maya stands out more than Anna on this basis for me: her character is so impulsive and anxious about how others perceive her that she acts out. It leads to hilarious situations, but one that also hurt because of their accuracy. I remember going too far and regretting what I had let out in the heat of the moment all too well: Maya dissing her classmate's father's death is just one moment where she exemplifies how adolescents must confront an entire range of vulnerable, awkward, embarrassing, horrifying emotions. Thankfully, I'm no longer in that specific phase but I'll tune in for whatever this show churns out for the catharsis.