Check out this hella tight essay I wrote for my English class:

High Fidelity, based on the novel of the same name by Nick Hornby, is a sort of unusual classic of modern film. It is not particularly uplifting or insightful, nor is it especially aesthetically pleasing. In short, it is not a film for film buffs. That said, High Fidelity holds its somewhat cult classic status without wavering. It is a kind of anthem for an entire generation, as though a particular person so many of us seem to be has been perfectly epitomized in the character of Rob Gordon.

While High Fidelity may not be a movie for film buffs, it is certainly a movie for music buffs, which is evident from Rob Gordon’s opening line, “What came first- the music or the misery?” The music, it seems, is often the first thing people will describe when asked about the film. Though every song in the soundtrack blends seamlessly with the narrative, most fans of the film describe the soundtrack as oddly unsatisfying. To a professional music fan, the choices are safe and obvious, with just enough semi-obscure music thrown in to make it feel edgy. To a lay person, on the other hand, the soundtrack is pretentious and inaccessible. The music choices in the film are, perhaps, the greatest insight into Rob Gordon’s character - following the status quo just enough to be accepted, while professing just enough love for the obscure to make him cool. It is this pattern that coaxes an almost Shakespearian wise fool moment out of Jack Black’s character, when he says “Tell me, Rob, how can someone with no interest in music own a record store?”

It is not, however, only Rob’s love of music that is feigned. The film opens with Rob’s girlfriend walking out on him, prompting him to shout of list of his top five most traumatic break-ups (with Laura, his most recent ex, purposefully left off). He then yells after her, “If you really wanted to screw me up, you should have gotten to me sooner!” It becomes apparent, however, throughout the film, that Rob’s interest is not in women, but in the break-ups themselves and the misery that follows. Rob is not, as he would have the viewer believe, a caring, sensitive soul whose heart has been crushed by woman after woman. He is, in fact, a self-indulgent loser who perfers to be unhappy than to take any responsibility for his own life.

The aspect of Rob Gordon’s character that is most apparent throughout High Fidelity, however, is not his professed love of music, nor his love of misery, but his hatred for mankind in general. He is the poster child for misanthropy, masquerading as an outcast. One friend of his even observes of Rob and his employees, “You feel like the unappreciated scholars, so you shit on the people who know less than you… which is everyone.” Indeed, it seems the only thing Rob hates more than himself is everyone else.

With all this in mind, it is hard to understand why a film like High Fidelity would be so widely adored. What person would ever admit to identifying with such a pathetic character who, even at the end of the film, experiences such minimal and artificial growth? Rob Gordon, however, with all his flaws, is the voice of so many underachieving and under-appreciated Generation X-ers. He is grunge gone indie, like so many of his real-life contemporaries. What’s worse, however, is that those who emulate Rob Gordon’s character have turned from music-loving, relationship-inept misanthropes to ultra-fashionable, all-consuming sociopaths. The “hipsters” of Generation Y have adopted Rob’s ideals into the very core of their culture so that these days, obscure songs are obvious choices, obvious songs are under-appreciated classics, and the inability to get along with others is a virtue. No one wants to admit it (or at least they shouldn’t), but nearly all of us in the much-dreaded Generation Y are Rob Gordon, and that’s why we love him.

I got an A.