Not even Molly Ringwald could save Netflix’s new teen romantic comedy.
In the wake of the #MeToo movement, at a time when women’s rights are in and sexualizing women is out, it seems rather odd that Netflix chose to stream its latest teen flick “The Kissing Booth.” The film, starring Joey King, Joel Courtney and Jacob Eldori, seems like an innocent coming-of-age flick at surface level. But it’s actually drenched with sexual exploitation and toxic masculinity.
The story, based on a book written by 15-year-old Beth Reekles, focuses on life-long friends Elle (King) and Lee (Courtney) and their rulebook for an everlasting friendship, which includes not dating Lee’s dreamy and dangerous older brother Noah (Eldori). Obviously, things take a turn when Lee and Elle coordinate a kissing booth for a school carnival fundraiser, where Noah and Elle haphazardly start a secret and forbidden romance.
For the past month, teens everywhere have swooned over the characters, “shipping” Noah and Elle on their romantic journey. But all the common rom-com tropes – pop music, montages, and of course a cameo by teen movie queen herself Molly Ringwald – are distracting teenagers from the film’s true red flags.
This film could have been a great coming-of-age story about a high school junior who has never been kissed and goes on a journey of sexual identification and experimentation with the support of her best friend.
But unfortunately, within the first ten minutes of the movie, Elle is objectified, depicted in a short skirt with men staring at her body. A guy she doesn’t know comes up from behind and slaps her butt, landing both of them in detention. (She agrees to go on a date with him, by the way.) Multiple scenes focus on Elle needing to be saved by Noah or Lee because other men give her unwanted attention. The kicker is the moment when Lee discovers Elle’s hidden relationship. He says that Elle was the only “thing” he had that Noah didn’t, and now Noah had her too. Even Lee, Elle’s best friend, sees her as a “thing” to possess and not a person.
Elle navigates a world of stock characters like the dorky best friend, the OMG clique (à la Mean Girls), and Noah, the stereotypical leather-jacket-wearing womanizer on a bike. If Elle’s depiction is problematic, Noah is no feminist dream either. We know nothing about him except that he’s notorious for getting into fights and he’s graduating in the spring. We learn through one line of exposition that he is attending Harvard in the fall but never see or hear about his academic achievements. Before their romance starts, he’s constantly coming to Elle’s rescue because “she’s like a sister” to him. Elle worries that she will be another one of his “conquests” yet longs to be on his arm. When their relationship blooms, supposedly we should be happy for them, but he consistently lashes out, and breaks into fights for Elle’s honor. (Side note: Elle is a strong soccer player who effortlessly throws Lee into the pool ten minutes into the film. She can take down anyone without a man.) Teens may view his protectiveness as sweet, but the vibe is also possessive and controlling.
Noah and Elle’s relationship is hardly a model for healthy communication. The day after they have their first kiss, Noah takes Elle’s virginity — it’s consensual both times but the pace is so fast it made me squeamish as a viewer. The audience never sees their relationship develop into anything more than sexual. A musical montage of them frolicking on beaches distracts us from seeing them as having any emotional complexity. For a moment, a discussion about mental health and therapy opens itself up between the two, but it’s brushed off so quickly the conversation never has a chance to develop.
Throughout the film, it’s unclear who the antagonist is supposed to be. Is it Noah, the older Romeo who’s off limits? Or is it Lee, the best friend who won’t accept Noah and Elle’s relationship? Sure, it was refreshing to see a storyline other than two best friends of the opposite sex falling in love with each other. But for someone who’s been Elle’s best friend since birth, Lee never seems to support her in any way. For example, when she gets wasted at a party, he stands there watching, opening the door for someone else to step in and help her out, i.e. Noah. Each scene they’re in together feels strictly for exposition. If their friendship is based on Dance Dance Revolution, ice cream, rules drafted in kindergarten, and unnecessary territorial behavior, isn’t it worth reevaluating?
It’s 2018. Young people need better examples of how to treat each other in healthy ways. It was disappointing to see the talented Joey King settle for a story that could have done more to promote a strong female character instead of leaving most plot-driving decisions to her male counterparts. This movie should be watched as a learning tool about toxic relationship dynamics, not for a romantic, heart-swelling experience.
Erin Ben-Moche is a New Voices reporting fellow. She recently graduated with a degree in journalism from Oakland University.
