A Manual on Feminine Teen Angst: Ghost World

If there is a manual on feminine teen angst, Ghost World helped lay the groundwork for it. Whether this film finds you in your teens or late in life, Ghost World offers comfort in the discontentment that comes with growing up, especially for the weirdos, loners, and outcasts. 

Adapted from the graphic novel by Daniel Clowes, Ghost World is a dark-comedy and coming-of-age film with equal parts bite and heart. Our story follows two off-beat, teenage girls during the liminal months post-high school graduation: Enid (Thora Birch), a moody punk searching for meaning, and Rebecca (Scarlett Johansson), a deadpan realist ready for the real world to begin. What starts as a cruel prank on a misanthropic record collector named Seymour (Steve Buscemi), forms an unlikely pairing between Seymour and Enid. And thus, their strange summer begins.

Having grown up with Ghost World, the film's refusal to give clear resolution makes it a staple in the coming-of-age genre. To me, there is no better metaphor for the real world than showing up in life and being met with no apparent direction or answer. Through uncomfortable conversations, misplaced anger, and quiet resentments, director Terry Zwigoff shows us that adolescence in film shouldn't always be a cookie-cutter fairytale. As her relationship with Rebecca becomes distant and her newfound companionship with Seymour deepens, Enid is confronted with the painful uncertainty that is her identity and future. 

Much of what makes Ghost World so iconic is the character portrayals. Thora Birch delivers a performance so raw that it sheds an uncomfortably realistic light on what it looks like to be a teenage girl. Her snarls and eye-rolling alone make a character who was once two-dimensional come to life. Enid, always playing cool and unaffected, is often reactive and moody which ironically reveals her deepest insecurities. In a 2021 interview with The Independent, Thora described the gravitational pull she felt toward Enid, saying, “I was in love with the character beforehand… that kind of fueled me or tricked me into going for it with abandon.” And it shows – her performance feels like kismet. To this day, I cannot think of an actress better suited to play Enid than Thora Birch. 

Contrarily, we have Rebecca who is monotone though direct and proceeds with her goals despite her fears. On the surface, Enid and Rebecca look like an odd pairing, but their shared cynicism makes for a natural, albeit fragile, bond. Scarlett Johansson masters the mannerisms of an anxious young woman - biting her nails and making eye contact with the floor when confronted with uncertainty. There’s something compelling about watching young ScarJo in action. As a film lover, I’ve always found it fascinating to see A-list actors in their early roles -  it invites the audience to witness them at the beginning of their journey toward reaching their potential. 

Then there's Seymour: just as cynical but in ways only years of failure can produce. He is a captivating mix of awkward, endearing, and grim. Steve Buscemi's charm sells you on a character that would be totally unlikable if played by anyone else (the Buscemi Effect as I like to call it). Throughout the film, Seymour is unable to contain just how jaded and wary of the world he truly is, but through those rare moments when he gets to nerd out about his one true love, jazz, a softer side to our Sad Seymour is born. In the hands of a less charismatic actor, these scenes might come off as a guy mansplaining jazz to every woman he meets, but Buscemi sells it. He portrays Seymour with a level of earnestness that allows the character to speak to the music lover in all of us, and that’s The Buscemi Effect, baby! 

These anti-hero character portrayals set against a drab, nondescript city contribute to the overall sense of listlessness. Their city is slowly morphing into a homogenous strip mall - beige and impersonal. The pairing of old-world jazz with a city that's rapidly changing reveals the loneliness and fear of being forgotten that looms over Enid, Rebecca, and Seymour. Much like our adrift trio, living in an ever-evolving city like Austin can feel disorienting. Our disco clubs are turning into high-rises, everywhere you look there’s a Cybertruck. It’s easy to feel like you’re being swallowed by what your city is becoming. 

I attended Hyperreal's screening of Ghost World last month and seeing it on the big screen for the first time was something special. As we approach the film’s 25th anniversary, I've been thinking about what makes Ghost World such a staple in the coming-of-age genre. It’s that the film doesn’t pretend to have the answers to growing up, to the real world, or even to life itself. All of life’s loneliness and uncertainty doesn’t just disappear, and sometimes, simply accepting that can be enough. Ghost World gets that. And in a city that’s constantly changing, there’s real comfort in carving out weird little corners where you feel seen. Sometimes it’s a cheesy themed-diner with your best friend. Sometimes it’s a record store. And sometimes, it’s a dark room full of strangers watching an old movie at a place like Hyperreal.

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