Nerve

Are you a watcher or a player?  Leemme rephrase that: Are you a watcher or a doer?  This is ostensibly the question posed by the film Nerve.  But I saw something else at work.  (What the hell else is new, amiright?)

The plot is pretty simple:  An “uptight” high schooler, looking to break out of her “uptight” image (anyone else having some Stevie Wonder flashes here?), begins playing an online game (more of an active ARG, I’d say) of dares that increase in wildness as the night progresses.  Throughout, there is constant reference made to the supposed dichotomy of Watchers and Players, with plenty of derision and negativity being tossed the way of the anonymous, shadowy Watchers that include both salivating spectators hoping for blood and wimpy “uptight” folks like the protagonist who just don’t have the natural chutzpah necessary to just up and do things.  As per usual, bold, active personalities are favored over contemplative, introspective ones, the former being actual people while the latter are just aching to have humanity bless them with its presence in the form of action.

I don’t think I need to say that I find such a worldview pretty much bullshit (and not just because I tend toward the latter group myself).  There is this strange assumption that people who keep to themselves or who suffer from anxiety or shyness are less than human, are naturally unhappy with (and because of) their current intersocial state.  If only they’d loosen the fuck up and just dive in, amiright?

Now, it seems as though that’s where the film is really going, but I don’t think that’s the whole story.  Beneath this belabored philosophy is a scathing indictment of names, titles, epithets, labels.  It’s not the inherent qualities of the terms Watcher or Player that deserve our attention, but rather the very fact that we as a society are willing to imbue them with such power, that we’re willing to quickly and readily attach therm to one another, to categorize people into neat little boxes.  This sort of social compartmentalization is blown apart by the film, as Venus must engage with “both” aspects of her personality before she can succeed.  Without complexity, without embracing said complexity, there can be only chaos and pain.

Moreover, the importance of names is brought up time and again.  Venus eschews her given name in favor of the nom d’amusement Vee; “Ian” isn’t her new partner’s real name; everyone uses screen names as they complete their dares; and only when true names are spread throughout the erstwhile anonymous crowd does anything positive come to fruition.  Ursula LeGuin might just be proud, if a bit disappointed in the shallowness of the message.

Names and identity vis-a-vis social labels is the name of the game here, but nothing of any real import is said, as that aforementioned focus on doer versus non-doer is thrust atr us like so many Bowie dicks during Labyrinth.  This is ultimately why Nerve fails as any sort of social commentary, espcially in terms of modern/postmodern youth commentary.

That and shit is just goddamn ridiculous.  Either way.