A girl runs through the woods in a panicked frenzy. It’s the stuff of nightmares (and also something out of Chilling Adventures of Sabrina)–and that’s just what it turns out to be as our heroine, Vivian Carter (Hadley Robinson), begins screaming in terror only to realize no sound comes out. When she wakes up, it’s clear, of course, that the dream was a metaphor for her worst fears about herself: that she has no voice. That she is nothing more than a meek, complacent little girl. And in the past, maybe this worked well enough for her, but the arrival of a new student at Rockport High named Lucy Hernandez (Alycia Pascual-Peña) causes her to reevaluate her entire existence. And how she could ever feel so comfortable “keeping her head down.” This, paired with a college application that asks, “Reflect on a cause you feel passionate about. Explain its significance to you and what steps you took to make a change,” spurs Vivian to do something not only “revolutionary,” but quite analog. That is to say, start an underground zine that’s actually printed and xeroxed. Then again, the story takes place in Oregon. Where, as we all know, the 90s still live on in people’s hearts. Along with the riot grrrl movement that Kathleen Hanna became the face of (for Washington and Oregon–the collective “PNW”–became so interchangeable in those musical glory days, even if most of the culturally relevant bands were formed in Olympia–e.g. Nirvana, Sleater-Kinney and, yes, Bikini Kill).
Based on Jennifer Mathieu’s 2017 book of the same name, Amy Poehler’s involvement in Moxie as director, producer and actress should come as no surprise based on her quote featured on the novel’s cover: “Moxie is sweet, funny and fierce. Read this and then join the fight.” Poehler seemed to take her own advice in choosing to direct and produce the adaptation, written by Tamara Chestna and Dylan Meyer. Of course, there are some key changes in the transition from book to screen, like the fact that our antagonist, Mitchell Wilson (Patrick Schwarzenegger), has such carte blanche not only because he’s a white male football player, but because his father is the principal of the school. In the movie, the principal is instead Shelly (Marcia Gay Harden), an inexplicably passive woman whose entire goal in life is to never have to file paperwork that needs to be escalated.
The English teacher Vivian and her fellow female students are subjected to, Mr. Davies (Ike Barinholtz), also doesn’t seem much better in terms of advocating for women and not turning a blind eye to the numerous injustices small and large that transpire right in front of him every day. Appropriately, a sign in Mr. Davies’ class that reads more like, “You Don’t Matter Give Up” instead of “You Matter Don’t Give Up,” is telling of his and every other brainwashed-by-the-patriarchy being’s attitude at that school. What’s more, the pressures of holding the universe together have been put on Gen Z entirely (especially the girls) as Mr. Davies “wisecracks,” “Unless one of you people fixed global warming, your summer vacations were boring and don’t matter.”
And, speaking of holding the universe together, in the background of the classroom is a subtly presented poster that proves the infinite value of a good set designer. On it is the cliche quote from J. D. Salinger: “She wasn’t doing a thing that I could see, except standing there leaning on the balcony railing, holding the universe together.” From a lesser read work of his called “A Girl I Knew,” it is both entirely fitting and completely ironic that a white male should be the one to say what a girl’s “function” is. But yes, make no mistake, women do hold the universe together.
The white male writer parade continues as Lucy, not knowing any better, takes a seat in the odious front row, after which a discussion about The Great Gatsby reminds one of the exchange in Ginny & Georgia when Ginny (Antonia Gentry) calls out the reading list for having entirely white male authors save for a token book that will be dredged up in time for Black History Month. Mr. Davies doesn’t help mitigate his aura of misogyny when he calls on Lucy with the query, “I’m gonna ask you the first question that we apparently have to ask about every work of art now, no matter what it’s about or what time period it was created: how are women portrayed?” Lucy bites back, “Well, I think the real question is: why are we still reading this book? It’s written by some rich white guy about some rich white guy. And I guess we’re supposed to feel bad for him because he’s obsessed with the only girl he can’t have? I mean, if the point is to learn about the American dream, we should be reading about immigrants, or the working class, or Black mothers. Or at least someone who doesn’t already have a mansion.”
Mitchell is quick to interrupt Lucy and defend the book as a timeless classic, just one of many examples of how he silences women with the expectation that they’ll actually stay quiet. The “small things” men do and think they can get away with because women politely try to ignore how grotesque it is also becomes elucidated when another student in the class, Kaitlynn (Sabrina Haskett), tries to sit down and Mitchell’s jock stooge, Jason (Joshua Darnell Walker), takes the seat so she’ll end up on his lap. When she gets understandably scandalized and scurries away, he shouts, “I got a seat right here for you!” This is just one form of the many “microaggressions” we see displayed by the male gender throughout Moxie. At the grocery store, one such common microaggression that men don’t even realize they’re doing as a means to further belittle women is illustrated when the checker instructs Vivian’s mom, Lisa (Poehler), to put her eggs on top of the bag. As though she’s too dense to know to do that herself thanks to the wonders of common sense. And no, one can rest assured this would not be said to a man. “Hey girls, let me help ya out here,” he says, appearing out of nowhere. Lisa assures, “Oh that’s okay, we got it.” The employee insists, “Okay, just make sure to put the eggs on top.” Not taking his “politeness” as a reason to stay quiet, Lisa condescends, “So I shouldn’t open up the carton and just dump them all in there?” “Just trying to help,” he replies, getting uppity himself for being called out on something he thought was “nice.” Lisa continues, “I know how to pack my own suitcase. I can pack my own grocery bag.”
Lisa’s “flare-up” in expressing herself to show contempt for how patriarchal attitudes bleed into even the most mundane of tasks is our first indication that she was once a riot grrrl herself, when the revolution was hot off the presses. Literally. Because Bikini Kill had a fanzine. Ones that are still tucked away in Lisa’s “Misspent Youth” box. That Lisa also used to sing the lyrics to “Rebel Girl”–“That girl, she holds her head up so high/I think I wanna be her best friend, yeah”–“activates” something within Vivian when she sees the exchange between Lucy and Mitchell. “Keep your head up high, Vivian!” her mother shouts out to her on the first day of school as she’s walking out the door. This statement comes back when Vivian tries to offer some form of consolation to Lucy in the hallway, saying, “Look, I just wanted to say ignore Mitchell.” Lucy demands, “Why should I have to ignore him? Why can’t he just not be a dick?… He’s dangerous.” Vivian assures, “I don’t think he’s dangerous. I think he’s just annoying.” Lucy counters, “You know that annoying can be more than just annoying, right? Like, it can be code for worse stuff.” Vivian foolishly exposes her meekness with the counsel, “If you keep your head down, he’ll move on and bother somebody else.” Lucy balks, “Thanks for the advice, but I’m gonna keep my head up. High.”
Feeling foolish for being so ready to suppress her own emotions, Vivian gets to talking to her mother that night, and asking her what sixteen-year-olds care about. Lisa says, “When I was sixteen, all I cared about was smashing the patriarchy and burning it all down.” Hence, her various mementos of the riot grrrl movement. It’s after this conversation that Vivian starts digging through her mother’s 90s-era trunk, pulling out the trappings of Bikini Kill fanzine glory. One manifesto reads, “Because we don’t want to assimilate to someone else’s voice, standards of what is or isn’t. Because I believe with my whole heart, mind, body that girls constitute a revolutionary soul force that can and will change the world for real.”
In contrast, Principal Shelly declares at a pep rally, “Those girls got moxie. In fact, this entire school’s got moxie, am I right?” she declares of some cheerleaders, likely unaware of what moxie means, as it’s a term billed as being “a hundred years old.” Though if you live in Maine, you’ve probably at least heard of the soda the word comes from. But in its true definition of having “verve,” “fortitude,” and “backbone,” Vivian is quick to adopt the moniker for her own zine’s name, throwing it back in the principal’s face for using it to describe some obedient, patriarchal ideal of women.
Another trigger for Vivian is The List that gets circulated (in the style of another 90s staple, My So-Called Life) every year. The one that labels girls as things like “Most Bangable” and “Best Rack.” At the pep rally, it’s sent out to everyone like a Gossip Girl blast, at which time Vivian has reached a new apex of wondering why she’s taken everything she sees around her with a shrug and a continued silent vow to “keep her head down.” Seeing herself put on the list as “Most Obedient” is what really sends her over the edge.
When Lucy tries to tell the principal she’s been branded as “Biggest Cunt” on that list, Shelly brushes her off (yet again) with the platitude, “Sticks and stones, sticks and stones.” Not exactly the best image to evoke for a Black woman. Vivian, dealing with her own emotions, storms out of the gym, running into two meatheads on the way. “Uh oh, we’re in trouble,” one goon says after they scare Vivian as she’s leaving. His fellow goon assures, “Her? She’s not gonna do anything, come on.” Oh, but she is. Vivian is about to go off for the first time in her life. Using the principal’s own antiquated word against her, Vivian decides to call her zine Moxie!
Seeing her put the magazine together is the most empowered we’ve witnessed her be thus far. And it does make a difference to a girl when she doesn’t sit idly by and let things happen. Like the protests going on this very weekend in honor of Sarah Everard. A woman who couldn’t even walk home alone at night without effectively risking her life. And risked to a person specifically employed to “protect” people a.k.a. an officer of the law (here, the movie A Girl Walks Home Alone At Night feels bittersweet, for Everard had no such agency as The Girl in this movie). Everard’s kidnapping and death highlights the need for movies like Moxie to be made. Because even if the government keeps talking about implementing new laws that might make harassment of women a crime, it’s still, in the end, just talk. Women are the ones who take action. Any action necessary to protect themselves. No matter how big or small. From protesting to doing something as “minimal” as creating a zine. Which is where Vivian gets the outlet she’s been searching for to express that the status quo at their school is not okay.
After keeping it old school and going to the print and copy place to make a “shitload” (i.e. fifty) of copies, Vivian suddenly loses her nerve after placing a stack in the girls’ bathroom as she asks herself, “Oh my god, this is so stupid. What am I doing?” But it’s too late, destiny has intervened to allow Vivian to maintain some modicum of moxie as other students have already walked in, prompting Vivian to hide in one of the stalls. In this moment, it must be admitted that Vivian’s insecurities about seeing her cause through are a bit annoying, especially since she seems only to get reassurance for her actions from women of color (case in point, continuing to keep the hearts and stars she drew on her hand out of solidarity when she sees two other Black girls with them drawn on).
However, maybe her self-stifling personality would make less sense if her father situation was as it is in the book–which is to say, her father is dead. Ended up crashing his motorcycle on the streets of Portland when Vivian was eight months old. In this version of events, he is a martyr and a rebel. In the movie version, he’s just another father who has abandoned his child. And that makes a big difference in interpreting Vivian’s own rage toward the patriarchy, as well as why she internalizes her insecurities. A contempt for men, after all, can so often be traced to the first male they were ever exposed to: Daddy.
As Moxie starts to gain traction among some of the girls, the sexist double standard at the school rears its ugly head once again. After the Best Rack “win,” it’s no surprise that the principal should flounce into the classroom and ask, “Kaitlynn Price, do you have a sweater or a jacket?” as though it’s Very Important Business to interrupt the instruction for. “Oh you in trouble! That’s what you get for trying to dress like Britney Spears,” Jason says as Kaitlynn’s led out of the room. Because, again, Britney is still held as the benchmark for steering all girls wrong…since Gen Z will never have a sexy pop icon.
Speaking of Gen Z moments, at a Hawaiian-themed party that Vivian is invited to by her woke feminist love interest, Seth (Nico Hiraga), her best friend, Claudia (Lauren Tsai), comments on the theme, “This doesn’t feel culturally sensitive.” But then, why should getting “lei’d” at the door of a party come as a surprise at a school where Mitchell goes unchecked by any authority figure, even the female principal. On that note, as the actress that played the mild-mannered teacher in Mona Lisa Smile who doesn’t understand why Katherine (Julia Roberts) can’t just behave and “act like a lady,” this is another well-suited role for Marcia Gay Harden. Incidentally, Katherine Watson would certainly not stand for any of this 1950s bullshit in the twenty-first century, especially since she wasn’t even standing for it in the 50s when female subjugation was the rule.
As for the men who say and do nothing even if they’re not “misogynists,” this inaction remains an insidious contribution to why patriarchy is still pervasive and widely accepted. “That’s so convenient for you. You get to say this is a ‘women’s issue’ so you don’t ever actually have to do anything,” Kaitlynn asserts to Mr. Davies as he tries to ignore tits spewing out of tank tops in his classroom the day the Moxie girls protest by showing up to Rockport High in this type of shirt. Kaitlynn adds, “This dress code may seem like ‘whatever’ to you, but I say it’s another way to control women. And if you’re doing nothing, then you’re part of the problem.”
While Vivian’s social life has taken off since starting Moxie (despite remaining anonymous), Claudia is left by the wayside. Her introverted personality and strict mother lends Claudia a certain Lane Kim (Keiko Agena) vibe to Vivian’s Rory Gilmore (Alexis Bledel), except this time, unlike Lane, Claudia calls her best friend out for her white privilege by reminding her she has the luxury of taking risks that Claudia can’t. Even though she did so regardless by not ratting Vivian out for being the mastermind behind the publication. Thus, among other punishments Claudia must endure, “My mom is making me deep clean the rugs to atone for my sins.”
When Seth asks her why she doesn’t take ownership of being “Moxie,” Vivian explains, “I like that Moxie kind of just speaks for itself.” This is said while lying next to Seth in a coffin, as he’s decided rebel girls like to be taken on impromptu dates to funeral parlors.
Returning from that little rendezvous, Vivian is jarred when she comes home to find Lisa sitting in a dark corner of the room and sporting a Sleater-Kinney tee while waiting up for Vivian. She’s not mad, she just wants to meet Seth, formerly known to her as the boy who pissed his pants on a field trip.
As Vivian’s “coming-of-rage” escalates, though, she begins to lose sight of what courage really means. And it doesn’t include hiding behind an anonymous identity. It takes another anonymous person coming out of the woodwork to galvanize Vivian to truly speak up without the mask of the zine.
All the while, fellow Moxie girls rally around one another to show support. “We’re here to celebrate the end of the mediocre white dude’s chokehold on success,” Lucy yells into the microphone at the rest home where Claudia volunteers (having provided it as a celebration venue). Wouldn’t that be a pretty thought? But we’re still such a long way from that chokehold being truly undone.
And, as “empowering” as Moxie wants to be, there’s an odd sense of melancholy to the idea that the best girls can do in the present to revolutionize is borrow from a tactic that’s already been done, not to mention one that can never be re-created when zines are Instagrammed and photos posted for the “cause.” As Kathleen Hanna knew, the second “girl power” becomes commodifiable, it’s no longer really power (hence her media blackout in the 90s when their movement started to get too oversaturated).
The “girl power” motif is sent way over the top when, during a cover performance of “Rebel Girl,” Lucy randomly decides to kiss Amaya (Anjelika Washington), in a moment that seems purely designed to say, “Yeah, lesbianism is the ultimate declaration of feminism.” Overall, there’s a kind of Diablo Cody sensibility to the script (particularly Juno), which is compounded by the “alt-rock-ified” soundtrack (e.g. a cover of “Heaven” better left to DJ Sammy). And so, although Moxie sends an important and still relevant message about women needing to find their voice and not be afraid to use it as loudly as possible, there are one too many cheeseball moments to make it an “edgy” movie befitting of an homage to Bikini Kill’s own trailblazing form of patriarchy-smashing.
And sure, it’s easy to stylize and adopt as a movement now, solely because of the hell the band endured when it was all happening. As Hanna remembered, the riot grrrls were “very vilified during the 90s by so many people, and hated by so many people, and I think that that’s been kind of written out of the history. People were throwing chains at our heads–people hated us–and it was really, really hard to be in that band.” Now, with a further wave of a twenty-first century wand, Bikini Kill’s toil can be reduced to whatever Gen Z wants it to be. In some regards, that’s a lovely and beautiful thing, in others, it just goes to show that this generation has nothing of their own.
