It was appropriately coined in the 80s by Cyndi Lauper that “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun.” Though it would take a few decades for t-shirts and memes to rework that sentiment as “Girls Just Wanna Have Funds,” this, too, was most applicable of all in the Decade of Excess. For Angela Delvecchio (Kellie Martin), the character based on high school murderer Bernadette Protti, that want was magnified tenfold as a result of living in the affluent community of Santa Mira (based on Orinda, California). Became a want so severe it transcended into a need.
One compounded by her own family’s housing and socioeconomic status not quite measuring up to the girls that Angela aspires to be like–dubbed a wannabe the same year, 1984, the term was coined thanks to Madonna fans dressing up like her. Namely, the most popular sophomore at Santa Mira High (actual name: Miramonte High School), Stacy Lockwood (none other than Tori Spelling). After a pep talk at the kickoff assembly of the year from the school principal, Ed Saxe (Terry O’Quinn), Angela decides she has it within herself to become one of the “bright and shiny girls.” More than just a wannabe. Ergo a sudden desire to try out for cheerleading. Additionally, she secures a job at the administration office, where Stacy also works–which makes Angela believe they’re sure to become the best of friends.
After the first day of school is complete, she gets a ride home from her friend, Jill (Margaret Langrick), whereupon her excitement about the future this year holds is dashed by the sight of her father, “average” Joe Delvecchio (Andy Romano). A glaring reminder of their class. As she approaches him tinkering on the car, she announces, “I got a job at the attendance office with this girl who’s really cool.” Barely looking up from the car, he says, “That’s good Angela, you know work gives you dignity.” She looks on at him sadly, as though suddenly being reminded of their “humble,” working class roots compared to the rest of the town.
As the year progresses, Angela’s desire to go on a ski trip becomes the first of many instances of trying to “keep up with the Joneses.” Jill reminds her, “It costs seventy-five dollars for the trip. And then you’ve gotta have skis, boots, clothing.” Only briefly daunted, Angela declares, “I’ll earn it.” Cut to a montage of her babysitting, washing cars and painting houses–followed by the “counting cash scene” that then enables her to go to the mall to look for the gear she’ll need to make herself fit in. Alas, she’s forced to have a Pretty Woman moment, though she’s obviously too low on the totem pole to even register on a salesperson’s wavelength. One that might appear in the scene to degrade her. Instead, that role falls to Jill, who tells her that she can’t even afford a single boot in the place, and that they ought to look into rental skis and then see if they can borrow a snowsuit from someone.
The next “cut to” moment finds Angela staring at herself in her full-length mirror, studying her dowdy appearance in someone else’s beige-ish parka. The appraisal of her decided gaucheness prompts her to declare to Jill, “I’m not going.” “Nobody cares how you look,” Jill assures. Angela snaps, “I care, boys care–everybody cares!”
And yet, they might not have, if only Angela was able to sit back and watch while another unpopular girl, Monica Whitley (Kathryn Morris)–though still with more affluence than Angela’s family–is eviscerated by Stacy when she pulls an Angelina Jolie in Girl, Interrupted by reading her diary aloud to everyone else staying in the room. Monica, still in the shower, is then subjected to the humiliation of having the day’s private thoughts recited, prompting Angela to try to intervene by saying, “Stacy, that stuff’s private.” Unmoved, Stacy retorts, “Excuse me. What are you, anyway, Monica’s guardian angel?”
At that moment, Monica emerges from the shower. “I’m going to kill her!” she screams, soon making her a number one suspect in the eventual murder of Stacy. When Angela tries to calm her down, Monica seethes, “What would a wannabe like you know about it, anyway?”
Watching this exchange, a switch seems to flip in Stacy that makes her realize just how grossly groveling Angela is. Which is why, the following morning, Angela has turned into her new target as she “quips,” “Nice clothes, Angela. Where’d ya get ‘em, a thrift store?” Not unlike that scene in Pretty in Pink when Benny (Kate Vernon) snidely remarks of Andie’s (Molly Ringwald) clothing, “Nice outfit. Where’d you get it, Five and Dime store?” The pressure of feeling like she needs to “keep up” with the financial “abilities” of these peers (a.k.a. their parents) is only further compounded by Stacy’s blatant ostracism. Her genuine belief that someone like Angela can never belong no matter how “nice” or “sweet.” And, as psychology will tell you, the longstanding effects of ostracism can lead to increased feelings of unworthiness and aggression. Hence, the outcome that results from the manner in which Angela is treated.
The Meadowlarks a.k.a. Larks (Bob-o-Links a.k.a. “Bobbies” in the real life story), a “society” that serves as another way for rich bitches to gather under the guise of “volunteering,” is the next frontier Angela wants to conquer despite her setback on the ski trip. And she does miraculously manage to get picked for the group, even though Stacy certainly can’t understand why.
Still feeling the lack of acceptance, augmented by Stacy being the one that dictates who’s “in” and who’s not, Angela gets the harebrained idea to make up the story of a dinner party being thrown for the Larks to invite Stacy to it. Subsequently, Angela shows up at her house on Saturday to pick her up. Disappointed to see her, she almost doesn’t go along. “Nice wheels,” Stacy mocks when she’s finally talked into getting inside the car. A look down at the crudely placed knife next to some cucumbers leads Stacy to further balk, “What’s this? Hors d’oeuvres?” “Oh, um, my sister… she sometimes fixes lunch in the car,” Angela replies in embarrassment. Stacy derides, “Mm, that’s real class, Angie.”
Upon parking in the church lot nearby, Stacy and Angela get in a heated argument as Stacy continues to berate her, making it clear to Angela that no matter what she does, she will never be truly accepted. She’s not the “real deal.” Read: not rich enough or blonde enough to be considered “at Stacy’s level.” Or maybe, quite simply, just not enough of a cunt.
In the wake of the murder (a crime of passion, if you will) that rocks the entire community to its core, Stacy’s affluent parents appear on television to announce, “Our Stacy was popular. She was an athlete, cheerleader, an all-American kind of girl. She was the Establishment. And we have to ask ourselves if her killer was not anti-Establishment. Someone who does not agree with the way the majority thinks and acts.” What Mr. Lockwood does not take into account is that the Establishment does a plenty effective job on its own of rendering “the other” anti-Establishment when they’re made to feel that way for not being able to “pay to play.” The rigged game called capitalism, that is. In the present era, the smokescreen about this so-called “majority” Mr. Lockwood refers to has been somewhat lifted (though there is still a long way to go). Which is why the fact that the murder took place in the 80s is of particular note. A peak conservative era as spurred by Reaganism and a general ball gag of repression.
As the guilt of her actions starts to take an emotional toll, Angela can overhear her mother (Valerie Harper, because it’s a Lifetime movie) telling her father that she’s worried that Angela will never find happiness if she keeps constantly striving for more rather than being happy with what she has. “Sometimes I think she’s ashamed,” Joe tells Mrs. Delvecchio. “She never brings anybody home. The other kids all have so much, and we don’t have any—” “We have everything we need,” Mrs. Delvecchio interjects.
It isn’t long after this moment that Angela is finally backed too far against a corner by the FBI (with the agent being played by none other than the Fresh Prince patriarch himself, James Avery), confessing to her crime.
Once the revelation about Angela being the killer spreads through town, the priest at the local church (Eugene Roche) is bold enough to suggest that the pressures of materialism as related to belonging were at least partly responsible for the murder. He proselytizes, “It is a time for us to look deeply into our values and examine our goals. We’re a close-knit community. You either belong or you do not. As I agonize over the events of the last six months, I wonder if Angela didn’t feel the community’s pressure to be the best—be the brightest, own the finest and the most expensive—felt these pressures and judged herself a failure. I wonder if what we’re seeing is not the attitudes of the parents being visited upon the children.”
Naturally, not every adult is as sympathetic to the reasons that might have driven Angela to this temporary form of madness. “There is no more problem with materialism here at Santa Mira than there is anywhere else,” Principal Saxe announces on the news, as though that’s supposed to be conciliatory.
In contrast, Angela’s defense attorney offers during Angela’s unnecessarily public trial, “No one wants to be a hod-carrier in Santa Mira. You’re supposed to be beautiful and successful and popular. Perfect. Angela was none of these things.” Damn, way harsh Tai–but that defense lawyer has to make his point as he continues, “And her fear of failure eventually became too much for her to handle. It was this fear of public humiliation that led her to kill in the first place.” More specifically, fear of humiliation by not being enough of a capitalistic douchebag, as it were. Per the propagandist instructions of society and “adults” in towns like Santa Mira.
