Among my inner circle of high-school friends, real names weren’t spoken often. In fact, if a teacher who had known our real names had listened to any of our conversations, they would have walked away convinced that the group of us were experiencing a mass identity crisis. We weren’t ill, though (at least not in THAT way)! The real explanation was far simpler: once you joined our group of friends, you were bestowed with a nickname. Contrary to how I’m making it sound, these names weren’t some kind of weird club initiation; we simply thought nicknames were cool, and we naturally gave them to people we thought were cool.
Since we were comic-book and movie nerds, most of our nicknames grew from those parts of pop culture. My friend Carlin adopted the nickname Clark, after Superman’s secret identity Clark Kent. My bestie Tyler went after Batman (he’s still the biggest Batman scholar I know) and took the name Bruce upon himself. There were other friends with other nicknames that I can’t recall. Sorry, guys, but if you’re reading this, you know who you are!
Personally, I was blessed with the name Leonardo, my namesake being the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle of the same name. I was given this name for a specific reason. Was it because of my leadership skills? My drive to improve? My skill with katana swords?
Nah! It was because I liked pizza. Like, a lot.
You may be thinking, “Sure, but every teenager likes pizza, right?” Yes, that’s true, but you don’t understand. I ate pizza SO much that I had a school-wide reputation for it. See, some smart franchisee had chosen to build his branch of Little Caesars directly across the street from my high school, which meant that those five-dollar Hot N’ Ready pizzas were within easy reach come lunchtime. I took advantage of this stroke of good fortune; two or three times a week, I would troop across the street, buy one of those pizzas, and devour it over the course of the lunch period. Yes, the WHOLE thing. If I was feeling generous, maybe I’d give a friend a slice. Generally speaking, though, the pizza was mine, and it was ALL going into my gaping maw. (It’s only by the grace of God that I don’t have Type 2 diabetes today.) Since I’ve always been tall and my metabolism was going strong, I could do this and gain little weight. I loved it!
(By the way, it wasn’t just the pizza that kept me coming back. I also thought one of the pizza chefs was pretty cute, and I’d take any opportunity I could to flash her a grin and say hello. Beside the point, though!)
Once I had my pizza, I’d take my lunch to the hall where my locker was and sit down. I’d lift the lid of the pizza box (cherishing that initial whiff of melted cheese and pepperoni grease), crack open my bottle of Sprite, and start eating, sitting near the doors that led to the parking lot. Throughout the lunch period, I’d watch as people went in and out those doors.
I didn’t want to miss a chance to talk to Nancy, after all! (“Nancy’s” name has been changed for reasons that will become obvious in a moment.)
Nancy was the second of three big crushes I harbored during high school. Each of these crushes fell into a different category: (1) not compatable with each other; (2) really liking her but realizing that it would never be; and (3) what I think may have been my first brush with real love, not infatuation. Sadly, Nancy fell into that first category. I was blinded by infatuation, though, and I didn’t realize that we wouldn’t go well together.
Nancy was always kind to the infatuated puppy who ate lunch and talked with her (hey, that’s me!), and she would always exchange a few words with me as I ate. Through this, I learned about her interests and goals-none of which aligned with my own plans or personality. This didn’t matter to me, though; for someone with as low a level of self-esteem as I had in high school, personalities and plans were negligible if a relationship was in the cards. I began to shuffle my personality around to suit what Nancy seemed to like. As a result of this unhealthy behavior, I began to change, and not for the better.
Tyler-a close and true friend then and now-was the first to tell me that my feelings for Nancy were hurting me. He told me this silently, as we texted each other in math class (using our graphing calculators, set to alphabet mode). Anyway, Tyler told me that he was concerned about me and the way I was changing, and that it would be best if I stopped pursuing Nancy. Naturally, as a lovestruck teenager, I ignored Tyler’s advice.
Eventually, I gathered enough courage to ask Nancy for a date. She turned me down in no uncertain terms, letting me know that I simply wasn’t her type. As you can imagine, I was shattered for a little while; after all, I had geared myself entirely around grabbing her interest. Eventually, though (and with the help of Tyler and my other friends), I picked up the pieces of my broken heart, learning that I shouldn’t feel the need to put on a facade for someone I liked. If a relationship was meant to be, I wouldn’t feel the need to put on a false front.
Why did I tell you that long story? Because it ties directly into the things I love about George Lucas’s American Graffiti!
(Quick note: what you’ll find below is a fan-made trailer. I usually don’t include such things in my essays; usually, I favor the official studio trailers. However, I found this one so moving-and so much better than the official trailer-that I made an exception!)
American Graffiti unfolds over the course of one night: the last night before summer vacation ends and school begins again, bringing an end to the summer of 1962. As night falls and the hot rods pull out of Mel’s Drive-In, the story branches into several different tales, following an ensemble of teens on their nocturnal adventures:
– Curt Henderson (Richard Dreyfuss) graduated from high school at the beginning of the summer. He’s scheduled to leave for college in the morning, but he’s tempted by the idea of staying home-and the possibility of dating a beautiful blonde woman driving a white Ford Thunderbird (Suzanne Somers) who expressed a very strong interest in him through her rolled-up car window. As Curt spends his night searching for the elusive blonde and embarking on adventures with The Pharaohs (a local gang), Curt thinks about the life-changing decision waiting for him in the morning.
-Meanwhile, another recent grad, Steve Bolander (Ron Howard), is having no trouble deciding what his next life move is going to be! He’s excited to go to college and see what the world’s like beyond the limits of his hometown. However, this means having to leave his girlfriend (and Curt’s sister), Laurie Henderson (Cindy Williams) behind, since she doesn’t graduate for another year. Ath the beginning of the evening, Steve says that he’d like an open romantic relationship with both of them free to date other people while Steve’s away. This revelation makes a tough time even more difficult for Laurie as she struggles with the implications of such an arrangement. As the night unfolds, Steve and Laurie argue, break apart, come back together, and repeat as they decide what they want to do with their relationship.
-As a gesture of goodwill, Steve lends his car, a beautiful white ’58 Impala, to Terry “Toad” Fields (Charles Martin Smith) for safekeeping while Steve’s at school. Terry, a nerdy junior who feels like an outcast among his peers, is excited by the boost in social status a nice car provides, and he takes to the streets feeling like hot stuff. Eventually, he picks up Debbie Dunham (Candy Clark), a confident, outgoing blonde who likes Terry for his intelligence and kindness. Terry, however, feels insecure when he compares himself to Debbie’s bold personality, so he begins to lie about himself to build his stature in Debbie’s eyes. As the night unfolds, the lies grow more difficult for Terry to control…
-John Milner (Paul Le Mat) is considerably older than the rest of his friends. He graduated a couple years ago, but he’s reluctant to go to college or even leave town; he’s famous for being the fastest hot-rod racer in the tri-county area, and he doesn’t want to let that status go. In order to keep said status, he spends his nights roaming the streets in his yellow deuce coupe, picking up women, and occasionally racing to keep his reputation strong. This evening, through a unexpected twist of fate, he ends up giving a ride to Carol Morrison (Mackenzie Phillips), a high-school sophomore excited to be in the company of a local legend. John’s less enthused. The two spend their evening bickering, bantering, and, eventually,, developing a mutual respect. However, John’s also concerned about the arrival of Bob Falfa (Harrison Ford), a brash, new-guy-in-town with a ’55 Chevy that just might be faster than John’s coupe…
I could write a whole essay about each of these stories, and the idea of doing so is tempting; perhaps, before this blog is finished, I’ll end up revisiting American Graffiti a time or two. Today, though, I want to focus on the Terry-Debbie tale, how I relate to Terry’s plight, and what I learned from his last night of summer vacation!
We first meet Terry as he cruises into Mel’s Drive-In on his Vespa scooter, holding his head high as he gives Steve a wave. It makes Terry feel cool to count Steve as a friend; after all, Steve was class president and dating the head cheerleader by the time he graduated, and having such popular friends tends to elevate one’s social status! Terry only gets to bask in the shared status for a second, though, before he loses control of his Vespa and crashes it into a trash can. It’s both a funny gag and a moment of economic storytelling! In a few seconds, we’ve been told everything we need to know about Terry’s attitude toward himself. Incidentally, it could easily be a portrait of me during my high school years!
As American Graffiti unfolds, we see that Terry has the same problem that I had with Nancy! From the second he sees Debbie walking down the street, Terry rolls down his window and supplies her with a pack of lies, telling her tales about celebrity encounters at traveling Dick Clark concerts and other exciting-sounding nonsense. Debbie accepts Terry’s stories at face value and, seeing him as a man of the world, drags the hapless nerd into a whirlwind series of adventures: including almost being shot by a liquor store owner; stalking “serial killers” down out-of-the-way dirt roads, getting into fistfights with car thieves, etc. Debbie meets each challenge with enthusiasm and an infectious sense of humor, while it’s all Terry can do to not crap his pants with fear. All the while, Terry struggles to maintain his web of lies, tailoring his tales to suit Debbie’s likes and dislikes. Nowhere is this more apparent than in this scene (which, incidentally, features my favorite bit of music in a movie full of great oldies)!
(For the record, all that talk about the horses, hunting, and Jeep pickups is pure, undiluted bull. You probably already knew that, though!)
One of my favorite details in the scene you just saw comes right after Terry moves in for a kiss. After being temporarily paused by Debbie, Terry immediately goes into apology mode, telling her “I didn’t mean it.” He’s completely unaware that Debbie is one-hundred percent open to being kissed by Terry-and maybe going even further. I think this moment stands out to me because I know exactly how Terry feels at that moment. In fact, that tentative version of romance was my dominant attitude for years!
See, in my teen years, it was hard for me to believe that any girl would be romantically interested in me. Since this attitude was firmly rooted in my mind, it began to affect my actions whenever I had the nerve to talk with one of my crushes. I’d tailor my personality to fit my crush’s interests (as I mentioned before) and I’d apologize whenever I was turned down for a date, as if I’d insulted my crush by having the audacity to like her. My self-esteem was at a low ebb during my middle- and high-school years, making it difficult to have a romantic relationship (even with people who obviously liked me, like the girl who left me a secret-admirer note in my locker and eventually asked me to preference during my senior year).
As I said, I struggled with those feelings for years until I eventually came to my senses. I came to realize that I had a lot to offer the people around me, that I was someone worth knowing and worthy of love, and that I had just as much a right to be happy as the people who surrounded me every day!
Anyway, Terry’s thread of lies is abruptly severed when Steve (Ron Howard, in case you forgot) takes his car back, leaving Debbie and Terry stranded at the drive-in (kind of like John Travolta!) Debbie doesn’t understand why Terry’s sitting dejectedly in the gutter; after all, doesn’t Terry have a Jeep they can pick up? Forced to come clean, Terry confesses the truth behind every lie he’s told over the course of the evening. Debbie’s understandably annoyed (“Well, how am I gonna get home?”) and walks toward a nearby group of guys, asking for a ride. Terry watches her walk away before hanging his head, alone and more depressed than when we first met him.
Eventually, however, Debbie re-approaches Terry, sitting down beside him. Terry braces himself for a tongue-lashing that he knows he deserves. Debbie has something else to tell him, though, and since I can’t find the scene online, I’ll let you read what she said in this excerpt from George Lucas, Gloria Katz, and Willard Hyuck’s screenplay!
Terry looks at her, feeling a little bit better. Then Debbie hits him with this:
I think this scene is beautiful! It’s also a vitally important moment, because it marks the end of Terry’s character arc. He’s had a wild ride of an evening, picked up a potential relationship (and a definite new friend), and learned something important! That lesson can be summed up as neatly as this: things turn out better when you’re just yourself! It’s hard to see when you’re looking at words on a page, but in the movie, Candy Clark’s performance makes it clear that Debbie likes the real Terry a lot more than the “cool” image he’d been projecting. Her eyes widen a tiny bit, her smile grows a little bigger, her face lights up, and she speaks a teensy bit more excitedly. It’s obvious that while she liked Terry’s “cool” persona, she could come to love his real personality. It’s obvious that Terry sees the difference, too!
It can be easy to fall into the idea that we need to be a different person to get the happiness we desire. When that happens, it’s usually because we don’t like ourselves; at least I know that was true in my case, and George Lucas shows us that Terry feels the same way about himself. Facades and fake stories may temporarily get us what we think we want, but good situations built on lies and deceit won’t last. In the end, if we want enduring love & happiness, we need to accept ourselves for who we are-flaws and all-and be brave enough to expose that side of ourselves to the people we care about most. When we take this approach and let the chips fall where they may, things work out for the better. I’ve learned this lesson in some powerful ways, and I love that George Lucas includes it in American Graffiti, a little teen movie that turned out to be a masterwork!
The Vintage Vestibule 