While it might seem merely an arbitrary decision to set the narrative of Little Fires Everywhere in the 90s not only because of its current on-trendness but because it was the last viable decade anyone can remember, there is a method to the so-called madness. And not merely thanks to the source material for the show, Celeste Ng’s 2017 novel of the same name. Ng herself lived in Shaker Heights in the 90s, graduating from Shaker Heights High School in 1998, which imbues the narrative with an “I lived it” authority. One that Reese Witherspoon, too, could identify with–at least in terms of coming of age in the 90s. Perhaps that’s why the novel spoke to her loudly enough for her to want to adapt it with the help of Liz Tigelaar, and eventually asking Lynn Shelton (who seems to have taken a break from directing movies in deference to TV–incidentally, she also directed an episode of that other Witherspoon success, The Morning Show) to executive produce and direct.
Witherspoon’s nose for binge-worthy literary adaptations would, naturally, prove infallible once again, as the thoroughness with which the story is told is a large part of why it’s so engrossing. But back to the pertinence of the 90s for this particular tale. Not only relevant because Ng grew up in that time and place, but because, despite the lingering association with the decade as a modern time–one filled with seemingly more progress and promise than what we have now–there were still glaring signs of inequality and segregation. Affirmative action, of course, would be one of the most shining examples of that as this was one of the last eras in which it was overtly promoted as a means for ensuring equality, when, in fact, its effects often resulted in further separatism and resentment (on the part of white people, primarily). Elena Richardson (Witherspoon) is a prime instance of the 90s (and beyond) white woman convinced she’s politically correct and pro-equal opportunity as all get-out. Not seeing that her deliberately “over corrective” behaviors are what makes her all the more racist. A tendency that leads her to “help” a single mother named Mia Warren (Kerry Washington) who lives out of her car with her only daughter, Pearl (Lexi Underwood). After showing them a house she rents out (one she used to live in herself) and Mia turning it down for the price, Elena ends up lowering her demand for the sake of “giving them a break.” Little does she know, alas, that their presence in Shaker is about to have the most monumental ripple effects on her own family.
Her eldest daughter, Lexie (Jade Pettyjohn), seems to have overtly adopted her mother’s approach to going out of her way to prove her “wokeness” by dating a black classmate named Brian (SteVonté Hart), in addition to befriending Pearl after she feels guilty for stealing a story from her own struggles with systemic racism and using it for a personal essay with slight amendments to apply to Yale. Before Lexie got on board with a friendship with Pearl for her own selfish motives, Elena’s youngest son, Moody (Gavin Lewis), is the one to develop a fondness for her, starting from the moment he rolls up to the house to help her and Mia move in wearing his, what else, puka shell necklace. Which everyone from Adam Sandler to “Dawson Leery” was wearing in the 90s (proving, once more, that only twenty years needs to lapse for a trend to become recycled, for this one was originally a fad from the 70s, thanks to surfer culture and David Cassidy). Granted, the guy who tended to wear this was nothing short of a douche or a dweeb.
Lexie, too, is filled with her own deluge of allusions, from talking to her friend on the phone about not worrying over the need to tape Buffy the Vampire Slayer a.k.a. Buffy (making her “at the gate” on WB’s soon-to-be devout following since the show premiered March 10th of 1997, the year in which most of Little Fires Everywhere takes place). She’s also very concerned at one point with the household being out of SlimFast, a “diet-friendly” indulgence she and Elena both compete over, and one that rose to the forefront in the 90s thanks to the nonstop playing of testimonial-style commercials that occasionally included celebrity endorsements from the likes of Frank and Kathie Lee Gifford. And though it’s clear Izzy (Megan Stott)–referred to as Isabelle, to her dismay, by Elena–is the clear pop culture queen of the family, Lexie at least has a My Best Friend’s Wedding poster up in her room, a movie that came out June 20, 1997 (again proving the set designers and researchers for the show were very on it in terms of just barely cusping September ‘97 with their accoutrements and mentions).
The most personality-less member of the family, Trip (Jordan Elsass), is a jock-ish sort who only seems to take pause from sports and “macking on” girls when they’re all in the living room arguing over whether or not to watch Ricki Lake or Jerry Springer. For any junior high or high school student of the decade, this, of course, was one of the essential pieces of after-school viewing–one might even do their homework while watching, with Ricki Lake premiering in 1993 and The Jerry Springer Show in 1991. As part of the boom in tabloid talk shows, each one offered their respective piles of trash gold, and some might even go so far as to tape one while watching the other–if they were as decadent as a Shaker Heights family (or simply just an old woman taking a break from regular soap operas).
While the Richardson family is living their life of leisure in the living room, Mia and Pearl are starting to settle into the town, although before that moment, Mia seems determined to distract Pearl with “on the road” fare like magazines. Which is why she gives Pearl the “okay” to pick up an issue of YM with Spice Girls on the cover for the August ‘97 edition. As far as pop culture juggernauts went that year, there were few bigger than the Spice Girls (for the Lewinsky scandal wouldn’t start to break until later that year and for most of 1998). Which is likely why Pearl also chose to go to a Halloween party that year dressed as Scary Spice, a choice Moody calls her out for by saying that she shouldn’t have let Lexie force her to be that particular Spice just because she’s black. To which Pearl replies that she wanted to be. Elsewhere at the party, Brian shows up as Bill Clinton, whom he refers to as “the first black president” (something Toni Morrison would immortalize him as in a 1998 piece for The New Yorker).
As Pearl seems to fit in seamlessly with the Richardson family, Izzy starts to spend more time over at Mia’s after getting to know her a bit at her own house, since Elena thought it would be the non-racist thing to do to hire Mia as their maid–which she PC-ifies with the title “Household Manager.” As Mia makes meatloaf (not to be confused with the one-hit wonder) the first afternoon, Izzy opens up to her about her troubles at school, quoting Fiona Apple’s instantly illustrious VMAs speech by noting, “Fiona Apple was right. The world is bullshit.” That year, it had aired on September 4th, with Chris Rock as its host. Mia would tend to agree with the statement, though she feels most of Izzy’s sentiments are negated by her white girl privilege. If it wasn’t for her artistic and lesbian inclinations, they might not have struck up such a rapport. Indeed, lesbian allusions abound in the show thanks to Izzy being frequently made fun of by her now ex-best friend, whom she had a sexual relationship with for a year. Alas, when her friend becomes popular, Izzy has to be made the freak scapegoat, as she’s called “Melissa Etheridge” or a picture of Ellen DeGeneres with the infamous headline “Yep, I’m Gay” is put in her locker. Even Elena takes to the stereotyping by putting an article about the Lilith Fair on her daughter’s bed. In a room that prominently features a 12 Monkeys poster.
Still, this doesn’t stop Izzy from embracing who she is, at one point listening to the Juliana Hatfield Three’s “Spin the Bottle” (a staple of 1994’s Reality Bites Soundtrack) while making a collage featuring, who else, Etheridge in it. Just a little something she’s making for Mia, who has been opening her eyes to the possibilities of art with her SVA-alum ways. And yes, there is, of course, a requisite flashback episode to New York in the 80s and what a magical time it all was as a means to further spur one’s nostalgia for better, less Orwellian days.
Regardless of the (ersatz) affinity Elena, in turn, feels with Pearl, it doesn’t stop her from prying into Mia’s life, starting with her following her car one day, a Chevy Hatchback, and then accusing her of something because of seeing this make and model, to which Mia retorts that every broke ass in America (in the 90s) has the same car. Elena returns that not all of them have a telltale “Mover and Shaker” bumper sticker on the back of it (thanks to Pearl over enthusiastically putting it there). In spite of their glaring tensions at the outset, there is a brief instance of the two playing nice with one another in the second episode, “Seeds and All”–a.k.a. the book club episode (fitting, since Little Fires Everywhere is a cliche of the average “book club” book). The one in which Elena wishes the group had decided on reading Memoirs of a Geisha (a title that cuts it close to the timeline we’re in, having been released September 27, 1997) instead of the cruder, bawdier The Vagina Monologues (1996). Each piece of literature having their respective zeitgeist impact in popular culture (the former title would inspire the concept for Madonna’s “Nothing Really Matters” video).
The Richardson children play nice with Pearl, too, while watching TV with her, and Lexie explaining to Pearl as though she’s some sort of Martian about how the Real World Boston wouldn’t compare to Real World San Francisco, mainly because of the delicious drama of Pedro having AIDS. Moody despises when the two meatheads of the siblings talk to her, insisting that they should skip prom and rent a movie instead. Specifically Before Sunset. Yes, he’s definitely the Dawson type as far as puka shell necklace wearers go. And, speaking of Dawson, it is fellow 90s “it” guy Joshua “Pacey Witter” Jackson who plays the Richardson patriarch, Bill. Largely checked out of matters in his role as hard-working father. Indeed, embodying the quintessential sort of dad of 90s male confusion and sensitivity: present, yet removed. Just as he is from events like Moody going with Pearl to the school dance… with Izzy in tow. Mercifully for Pearl, who doesn’t want Moody to get the wrong idea, for she predictably has a crush on Trip, the “dreamier” of the two brothers. In the meantime, songs including Savage Garden’s “I Want You” and The Cardigans’ “Lovefool” play in the background to punctuate the high drama of any 90s teen dance (as evidenced by “I Want You” also playing in the second episode of Dawson’s Creek’s first season).
To the point of music offering a significant role in every episode, use of a cover by BELLSAINT of Alanis Morissette’s “Uninvited” in the fifth episode, “Duo,” packs a powerful punch. The original being released in February of 1998 for the City of Angels Soundtrack. With the equal tempering between music and film-related pop culture, so it is that Moody’s friend also feels inclined to mention that maybe Pearl is secretly meeting up with his dad behind his back and that’s why she’s being so secretive all the sudden, using the 1992 Drew Barrymore-starring Poison Ivy as a barometer. In the credits of the last episode, too, the local Shaker Heights movie theater’s marquee is prominently displayed with the titles, Gattaca, Excess Baggage (underrated, truly) and I Know What You Did Last Summer.
Oh, how simple small town life all was then. Or so it seemed on the surface. Which is the entire point Little Fires Everywhere seeks to make. It was an uncomplicated, carefree Golden Age for some. But not people like Mia and Pearl, who couldn’t take effortless pleasure in the same way as Izzy might in suggesting that she and her friend just troll Borders or Tower as a means to while away the suburban boredom. And if you don’t know what these establishments were, then pop culture of the 90s probably doesn’t really matter to you in the first place. But if you watch Little Fires Everywhere, you’re sure to get more than just a crash course in the biggest names and moments of the decade. Not to mention the whole vibe–which is not an easy feat to re-create without meticulous attention to detail.
