There’s not a whole lot I miss about the series of late-90s cycle of teen films. I don’t miss Freddie Prinze Jr. that much, nor Seth Green, nor memories of Carson Daly and TRL. But I’m not being ironic when I say I’ve been waiting for Sarah Michelle Gellar‘s comeback for years. The Grudge and The Grudge 2 notwithstanding, I felt a great loss at the non-weekly recurrence of homegirl in my life. Because there was a time–strangely enough–when she stood as an example of someone who had done it right. Although ‘it’, at the time–and in all fairness–meant high school.
But even in the world of a supernatural teen program, she cinched it. She could deliver a cutting phrase, and a roundhouse kick. She was at once bubbly and sinister–she reminded me of Barbara Stanwyck–always ready to–if not cut a bitch, undercut a bitch. And then drive some stake into a bitch’s chest. She was sassy, and it wasn’t obnoxious. And you could believe that she listened to Ani DiFranco in the waning hours. She didn’t have the edge of an Angela Chase, but something of the same sensibility. If all the ’90s role models attended the same high school, they probably wouldn’t have been friends, but they’d certainly have been on each other’s radar, in that resentful but curious way that teens have of noticing each other.
It may be obvious at this point that I’m obsessed with the idea of Ringer, but too afraid to watch it. I don’t really want to see Sarah Michelle play homicidal twins in a show that looks like a combination of Wifeswap and I Know Who Killed Me–nor do I want to see another of CW’s take on the lives of rich Manhattanites (whose trademark seems to be wearing a low ‘I’m visiting an art gallery’ bun and form fitting beige outfits). They say you shouldn’t meet your idols–the question is, should you witness your idols comebacks? After all–we all know how Sunset Boulevard ends.