Dir. Mark S Waters, 2004, USA, 97 mins Cast: Lindsay Lohan, Rachel McAdams, Tina Fey Mean Girls stars buxom starlet of the month Lindsay Lohan as Cady, raised in the jungle and off to its modern equivalent - high school - for the first time. Immediately, Cady finds herself engaged in a plot driven subterfuge led by her misfit friend Janis, to infiltrate and destroy the Plastics, (think Pink Ladies on diet pills) the all-powerful uberclique running the show. Saturday Night Live sketch writer Tina Fey has the kind of scathing satirical eye for caricature, which helps elevate Mean Girls above the slew of teen fare currently being pelted like soggy toilet paper at the indestructible tween market. Queen Bee Regina (Rachel McAdams) is deliciously adept at terrifying students and teachers alike, and her permatanned minions (Lacey Chabert and Amanda Seyfried) are played for ditzy laughs as they vie for her dubious approval. The power struggle is brilliantly displayed in the threeway telephone bitchfest, which has Regina playing off her 'friend's' affections with the kind of steely satisfaction that won't fail to resonate in the hearts of every little girl who ever secretly hated her so-called best friend. Rather than avoiding clichés, Fey's script specializes in caustic one-liners and quirky turns on stereotypes that facilitate the breezy pace as we watch Cady's imminent transformation from sweet girl Mowgli to bitch from hell - the Halloween "slut rule", the Burn Book, and Regina's wickedly accurate musing on observing teachers out of school "like seeing a dog walk on its hind legs". But more poignantly, this is a clever little close-up on the horribly competitive world of the female clique in all its power and glory. Despite Lohan's now trademark spirited performance, and strong comedic support, ultimately this satire's lack of dark ambition is where it falters. It has little conviction in its agenda, if it even has one above becoming a box office friendly version of the 1989 comedically and psychologically superior Heathers. With so many bubblegum teen films infiltrating our screens, Fey could have made more of the opportunity to explore the psychological process of the love/hate relationships between women, and the debilitating power of the popular word without reconciling with the mass showdown/purgefest and obligatory expositional prom speech. And as a writer of not inconsiderable wit and sharpness, Fey should know that today's teenage audiences are now, more than ever, ready to enter the dark side. Andrea Hubert
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