[8.8/10] There’s a funny thing about these updated, transmogrified Shakespeare adaptations like 10 Things I Hate About You. If you didn’t know better, you could call the plots convoluted. There is a complicated web of relationships and deceptions, to the point that you practically need a diagram to explain it properly.
In short, Michael helps his friend Cameron woo Bianca by convincing Joey to pay Patrick to date Kat, because Bianca, per her father Mr. Stratford, cannot date until Kat does. With me? Well then, it turns out that Kat dated Joey, and after Bianca picks Cameron over Joey, Joey picks Bianca’s friend Chastity, while Michael pursues Kat’s friend Mandella, as Kat and Patrick’s tempestuous relationship takes root.
It’s a little dizzying, and yet the complex string of friends and enemies and relationships that tow the line between put-ons and genuine affection track nigh-perfectly into the high school setting. Despite the dense qualities of that big ball of string’s worth of plot threads, the complicated social structures and intersecting circles of high school make for the perfect way to realizes The Bard’s comedies in the modern day.
But 10 things is more than just a transmogrified version of The Taming of the Shrew. It also a charming tale that captures the heart and hazards of adolescence at the same time it exaggerates them for comic effect. What’s most impressive about the film is how it has its cake and eats it too on that front. There are goofy beats and subplots that only happen in teen movies, like unexpected party scenes and famous bands showing up to play contemporary (hopefully) chart-topping hits for the soundtrack.
But amid that broader material, there is a real examination of what it is to play up or down to expectation, a theme present in the work that inspired 10 Things, but which is given new life in the guise of the teenagers who are at that point in the fraught process of growing up where they’re deciding who and what they want to be, in love and in life. The gross wager that turns into real love is a hoary trope (see also: fellow 1990s borrower She’s All That) but by rooting the romance at the core of the film in two people who embrace a thorny image and find the hidden depths behind the prickers in one another, the film does justice to its source material and resonates with a target audience trying to figure out which parts of who they are malleable, which parts are non-negotiable, and which parts are fit to be broadcast to the rest of the world (or at least, the relevant social circles)>
It is also just damn charming. The film is full of quotable lines and crackerjack exchanges between characters. The cutting aside is wielded well and often, and side characters like teachers (including the great Allison Janney) and parents (Larry Miller, who nails both comedy and emotion as Mr. Stratford) provide a backdrop of colorful characters for the main story to flourish in. The writing stands out in 10 Things not just for the amusing lines which liven some otherwise familiar teen material, but for the way it allows the film to, in true Shakespeare form, shift tones into more serious material when it needs to.
The same goes for the characters. Kat shoots off the best zingers in the movie, and with her rebellious attitude and literary bent, it would be easy to turn her into a one-dimensional avatar rather than a character. Instead, the film roots her perspective and demeanor in an experience with Joey that gives form to her concerns of Bianca following in her footsteps, and gives just enough context to her mom leaving to make the crisis of conscience and turning point understandable.
By the same token, Bianca could easily be a generic popular girl, and in fairness, at certain points of the film, she is. But she too has a simple but meaningful arc of playing to expectations only to realize that she doesn’t necessarily like what that gets her, and it allows the two sisters to grow in their understanding of one another in strong scenes that deepen their relationship.
The objects of their affection receive a bit of shading as well. The reveal that Patrick, who puts on a gruff exterior and bears the reputation derived from many humorous urban legends about him, is not as wild as he seems is, perhaps, a predictable one. But he gains strength from the way that he and Kat see bits of themselves in one another, Cameron is a bit flatter, learning a trite if endearingly-put lesson about not accepting the notion that he doesn’t deserve what he wants, but there’s enough there to give ballast to the enjoyable-if-disposable teen romp elements.
Even Mr. Stratford, who is arguably the most outsized major character in the film, gets a bit of shading. While he spits out awkward-sounding nineties slang and is comically overprotective and paranoid of his daughters getting pregnant, the film balances that with a subtext to his insecurities about Kat leaving for Sarah Lawrence. There is a Daria-like quality to the film’s ability to poke fun at the parent-child relationship, but also find the sweetness and sincerity in it.
That’s what makes 10 Things more than the sum of its byzantine bets and love triangles. Some twists are convenient, some gestures a little too big to work anywhere but on the silver screen, and some bits of forgiveness come a little too easy. Still, the film keeps its plot, humor, and drama working in sync, where one scene can make you chuckle, the next will let you get to know a character a little better, and the one after will tug at your heartstrings, just a little bit.
The oh-so-nineties soundtrack immediately places in the film at a specific moment in time, but it speaks to the relatable qualities of that quest to figure out both who you are, and who’ll accept you for who you are, that feel like life and death for all seventeen-year-olds. 10 Things is a touchstone for those who grew up with it, both for the quips and clever asides that let the film crackle, and for the notion of young men and women, cutting through pretension and presentation, and finding something true beneath it, in themselves and in the people they love.
[9.0/10] There’s a scene I’ve always loved from 1954’s White Christmas. A retired general, who’s down on his luck and feels forgotten by the world, walks into a room and, to his surprise, finds all the members of his old division, standing there and applauding him, expressing their admiration all these years later. It’s the most emotionally potent scene in the film.
I felt the same way witnessing Ahsoka see a similar surprise from Anakin. The image of her walking into a hanger bay, seeing Rex and his company not only at attention and saluting their former commander, but decked out in armor that reflects her specific markings, is just as moving.
Both scenes are powerful because of what they signify, what they say about the person who’s being recognized with that gesture: you are not forgotten; your actions made a difference; you are still one of us.
There’s an uneasiness to Ahsoka’s reunion with the Jedi and the Grand Army of the Republic. She left the order. The council and the government they serve betrayed her. She has no titles, no claim to their respect or deference from the formalities of position. There is bad blood, uncertainty, and understandable concern as to what place, if any, she has on a ship like this anymore.
But there are also years of shared battles, adventures, and camaraderie that cut through all that. The strength of “Old Friends Not Forgotten” is that it honors both. The episode does not shy away from the awkwardness of Ahsoka’s return to her erstwhile allies or the fact that she’s forced to ask them for help, or the bitterness she still harbors at the institutions she once served. But it also embraces the heartening rapport, the firm-forged connection between Ahsoka and her master and her comrades, that persists much longer than any official recognition or chain of command could.
So I love the fact that Ahsoka spits venom at Obi Wan for “playing politics” when he prioritizes General Grevious’s attack on Coruscant over the people who need their help on Mandalore. But I also love Anakin’s creative solution of sending a special battalion under Rex, with Ahsoka as an “advisor” to work around hurdles of procedure and decorum. I love that Ahsoka initially tries to keep things professional with her former master, trying to keep a stiff upper lip and ask for the Republic’s assistance like anyone else, only for him to, true to form, immediately ask how she’s been and if she’s OK and treat her like the surrogate sibling she is.
I love that Bo Katan takes Obi Wan to task for not prioritizing her mission on Mandalore given his feelings for Satine, and I love that Obi Wan, also true-to-form, acknowledges those feelings, but refuses to let them sway him over what to do in this situation. I love how Ahsoka eschews the clones’ salutes and the title of commanders, and I love how Rex uses it anyway. I love how Ahsoka calls out the Jedi given her new understanding for how others see them and how they’ve fallen short of their ideals. But I also love how at home she feels wielding a pair of lightsabers that her master has been saving for her.
In short, this is the type of thing that always elevated the best parts of The Clone Wars above other Star Wars stories. The beginning of the long-awaited Siege of Mandalore arc is rife with exciting action scenes and surprising plot twists and callbacks and references to important bits of continuity. But it is first and foremost about these characters, their relationships, and the complicated emotions and issues at play in a fraught reunion, that add a psychological and thematic depth to all of that fanciful space opera.
But hey! That’s not a knock against the action or the twists or the call backs! The fight scenes are all thrilling on their own terms. It is tons of fun to see Anakin pull off another ploy against a droid army in the opening sequence. Him cockily coming in to save Obi Wan’s bacon, replete with an obvious trick against the tactical droid and some jet-packed clone troopers backing him on a suspension bridge, is infectiously fun and absolutely nails the dynamic between Anakin and his master.
At the same time, the skirmishes on Mandalore are just as cool. I cannot tell you how rousing it is to see Ahsoka at the peak of her force-sensitive abilities and training, leaping from ship to ship toward the surface of Mandalore, neutralizing enemies along the way, and playfully one-upping Rex in the process. This is our hero coming into her own, and it is a joy to watch. At the same time, seeing Bo Katan retake the throne room is a nice bit of Mandalorian-on-Mandalorian combat, with the tricks of the trade deployed to perfection and the battle lines nicely communicated with armor coloring and design.
I like the twists and call outs to the show’s continuity. There’s something to the idea that Maul would never be foolish enough to just expose his whereabouts to a foe unless he was trying to lure an enemy there. So I like the reveal that the fact that Bo Katan and Ahsoka were even able to plan this mission stems from the fact that his location being known was a ploy and a trap to force a confrontation with Obi Wan.
It recognizes the history that the two characters have shared, along with Obi Wan instructing Ahsoka to capture Maul alive since Kenobi already killed him once, and it doesn't seem to stop the dude. It involves Gar Saxon and Ursa Wren, adding dimension to their presence in other stories. It raises everything from where the idea of “fulcrum” came from, to Obi Wan’s history on Mandalore, to an off-hand reference to Saw Guerrera. As the shows final arc and the culmination of so many other storylines, “Old Friends Not Forgotten” raises to mind the other pieces of the Star Wars universe, past and present, that The Clone Wars has touched.
But it centers on those all-important relationships between the characters that gave all the pew-pew adventure and excitement meaning. Obi Wan is stoic but tells Ahsoka “May the Force be with you.” Anakin bends the rules but still finds solace in the idea that his padawan leaving the order seems to have happened for a good reason. And Ahsoka herself is reluctant to come back to something she was once a part of, but now carries reminders of scars and ill-feelings, but is still strengthened by her connection to her old master and fellow warriors. Even after all this time and all that has happened, there is still acceptance, appreciation, and loyalty, among our heroes and among the audience watching on the other side of the screen.
