‘My So-Called Life’ (1994-95) probes hearts, minds of ’90s teens

W.G. Snuffy Walden’s “My So-Called Life” (1994-95, ABC) theme song encapsulates the series, which itself encapsulates 1994-95. An ominous opening tone calls to mind dark days of public high school as a raw institution. But then the song segues into plucky strings that indicate new friendships and sunny days. Then it crescendos to jangly guitars that are as Nineties as Angela Chase’s flannel shirts.

The only downside of the opening credits of Winnie Holzman’s masterpiece (remarkably, the only show where she has sole creator credit, although she did write for other Marshall Herzkovitz/Edward Zwick projects “thirtysomething” and “Once and Again”) is that the names don’t match up with the actors’ images. Instead, we get a hodgepodge of moments, including the incongruous image of Clare Danes walking down the hallway with brown hair. Angela famously dyes it red in the premiere, her first blatant attempt to define herself as an individual.

So-called standout actors

The entire cast is great, but two actors stand out. Danes is the same age as 15-year-old Angela (actually younger in the pilot episode), and she brings coltish and frying-pan-faced awkwardness to the table. She grows more beautiful thanks to the wardrobe, makeup and hair departments (despite other characters’ critiques, that red dye job is kinda great), and by flashing her huge, irresistible smile.

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My memory of the show had Angela as self-centered (in the way of all teens), but that’s her starkest quality only in the early episodes. We soon learn she is at least aware of her self-centeredness, particularly as illustrated in when she agrees with all of Brian Krakow’s (Devon Gummersall) criticisms (she has been blowing off class to make out with Jared Leto’s Jordan Catalano in the boiler room) but asks if he will teach her geometry anyway. By the end of the 19 episodes, Angela’s empathy casts a wide net. Note the intentionally softened tone with which she speaks to Brian (the taken-for-granted neighbor), when she realizes he has been harboring feelings for her.

Danes went on to “Homeland” and a top-shelf career. Not so much for the second standout, Wilson Cruz, whose life as a gay actor in the 1990s rather closely mirrors that of Rickie Vasquez, perhaps explaining why he’s so amazing in the role. Rickie is rejected by his family, and is apparently not straight, as cued by his use of makeup and his ability to hang out in the girls’ restroom over the complaints of no one. Angela guesses early on that he’s bi, but we learn in the finale he’s gay.

But the character can be appreciated by any outsider; he’s the classic person who doesn’t quite fit in yet is ultra-observant of other people and overly attached to his handful of friends. Even his best-friendship with alcoholic Rayanne Graff (A.J. Langer, wonderful with her youthful eyes couched in a face that has seen hard times) is co-dependent in a way that’s more likely to hurt him than her. “MSCL” is set in its time with the cautious way it approaches Rickie’s sexual orientation. Fortunately, that mirrors Rickie’s own timidity perfectly.

So-called Fortysomethings

Also of the era: The show gives as much screentime to the parents (Bess Armstrong’s Patty and Tom Irwin’s Graham) as to the kids. A purely teen drama was not on the radar of network TV back then. (Even four years later, “Dawson’s Creek” – Season 1 of which borrows heavily from “MSCL” – gives a surprising amount of attention to Dawson’s mom and dad.)

Fortysomething Patty and Graham’s issues are generally compelling, with experiences from their youth often paralleling what Angela is going through. Graham is always the cool dad, and Patty becomes cooler as the show goes forward. She surprisingly becomes a trusted ear for Rayanne and Jordan and, most wonderfully, a shoulder for Rickie to cry on.

While the potential tryst between Graham and restaurant-business partner Hallie Lowenthal (“should’ve been a bigger star” Lisa Waltz) makes for gripping-if-soapy melodrama, it’s kind of nice that ABC canceled the series before a divorce storyline. It’s nice to think of the Chases as the stable Midwestern family you can count on. (“MSCL” is set in Pittsburgh, the easternmost Midwestern town.)

The Chases come complete with a younger daughter, Danielle (Lisa Wilhoit), who is ignored by everyone, to the brink of outright comedy. “MSCL” has room for a subtle sense of humor about both life and TV-show-making. See also the character of Tino, an acquaintance of seemingly everyone at Liberty High School. You won’t find an actor listed on IMDb, because although he’s mentioned several times, like Kramer’s friend Bob Sacamano on “Seinfeld,” Tino is never seen. As Rayanne sums Tino up in the finale, he’s “kind of unreliable.”

So-called teen drama

Even though it was better at more things than we might remember, “MSCL” is most reliable as a teen drama. For one thing, it robustly tackles teen issues and situations, with many episodes centering on a single theme (even though the continuity from week to week is excellent for a 20^th century network drama). But more impressively, it captures the way teens think and feel. Angela narrates a specific feeling (from Jordan taking up residence in her brain, to her annoyance at her mom saying “swab”). We think “That is so true” and want to hug her for being so relatable.

Despite an occasionally dreamy quality — from the gauzy lensing of the pilot to the dream sequences of the finale to a depressed Angela listening to the Cranberries’ “Dreams” in between — “MSCL” could more accurately be called “My True Life.” Real details abound in the way everyone interacts. The teens call fellow students by their full names, and Patty says “that Rayanne girl” and “that Rickie boy” before she gets to know them. (Angela does not offer formal introductions.) Angela doesn’t know how to define her life, but then again, that’s what life is: a search for definition.

“My So-Called Life” is a 19-episode analysis of the inherent weirdness of life, particularly teenagerdom. The brilliance of Holzman’s show (which also features three elite teleplays by Jason Katims, later of “Roswell”) is in that it makes sense of life – as much as possible. It soothes us as we realize our horrific problems are also faced by Angela, Brian and Rickie. And they, ultimately, are dealing with it.

Here are my rankings of the all-too-brief run of 19 episodes, with episode number and writer(s) in parentheses:

1. “So-Called Angels” (15, Holzman and Katims)

For some reason, this Christmas classic ranks in the middle of the pack among IMDb voters. I’m guessing it’s because of the religious and supernatural aspects. But director Scott Winant, returning from the first two episodes, captures the sparse, lonely beauty of a secular (yet surprisingly spiritual) American Christmas. This frigid Pittsburgh is not technically depopulated – indeed, we go into the heart of the city more than usual — yet the lens only has eyes for our characters. Rickie is crashing in a makeshift building for the homeless, and Angela heartbreakingly says of a homeless girl “She could be me” in a classic Angela-Patty conversation/confrontation. For once, Angela isn’t merely emotionally right, but also actually right as she criticizes her mom’s decision to go to the authorities in order to “help” the homeless teens.

Angela’s line is in regard to Juliana Hatfield’s unnamed wandering teen, whose mind-blowing and heartbreaking secret is revealed in a final act that will have you piling used Kleenexes next to your couch. Hatfield is a stellar instance of a non-actor being perfectly cast, as her shy speaking voice and downcast glances are exactly right. The singer-songrwriter’s “Make It Home” (which leads off the “MSCL” soundtrack CD) becomes a new holiday classic for depressed people who find themselves more depressed at Christmastime. Holzman and Katims nail the big drama, but also the little things, such as lonely Brian’s desire to find familial warmth with the neighboring Chases. Other episodes are perfect in their own way, but “So-Called Angels” is the only one guaranteed to make me cry at a half-dozen different moments — even though I know they are coming.

2. “Life of Brian” (11, Katims)

Todd Holland (later of “Wonderfalls”) delivers great direction in this hour that starts off with the potential for humor as Brian, rather than Angela, is the narrator. Indeed, we do get some irony, such as Brian assuming everything is wonderful over at the Chase household. (Brian’s parents aren’t awful, but they view him as a scientific subject, a precursor to Willow’s mom seeing her as an age group in “Buffy’s” “Gingerbread.”) But ultimately this is a sober episode (no pun intended, as Rayanne begins her attempt at sobriety), wherein Gummersall’s blank expressions perfectly pair with Katims’ writing of Brian’s thoughts. This is one of those powerful hours of teen TV (I’m also thinking of “Buffy’s” “Lovers Walk”) that shows how people can hurt each other without trying to when they lead with their hearts rather than their minds.

Teens can be accidentally cruel — Brian’s rejection of Delia (Senta Moses, who has a Brittany Murphy thing going) is among the series’ most harrowing scenes – even though they might be kind and soft on the inside. Another great moment: Angela hugs Rickie, who is crushed after a pseudo-date with a possible fellow gay youth backfires. Then he gives her a nod of permission to go pursue Jordan, even though it’s a moment of “fitting in” he’ll never have; Cruz always handles moments like this perfectly. As down as we might feel for Rickie, though, things likewise don’t go well for Angela, as Jordan is flabbergasted by her lack of directness. Showing her maturation, Angela realizes her role (if not her motivation) in messing up the Brian-Delia pairing. In the end, we have a perfect Brian episode that (appropriately) ends terribly for him, but there’s sweetness to go with the bitterness: The wallflower gets a taste of what people mean when they talk about, like, life, or something.

3. “The Substitute” (6, Katims)

Katims’ debut doesn’t do anything new with the trope of the inspirational teacher, yet it smoothly takes advantage of our familiarity to explore it in shorthand. The cinematic-feeling hour is driven by Roger Rees as Vic Racine, the titular lit teacher who inspires Angela and a good chunk of the student body. Even Jordan – whose reading disability is noticed by Racine — calls him “the best teacher I ever had.”

“The Substitute” is fantastical enough that I almost expect it to be a dream episode or Vic to be a ghost. In the end, it’s a stark commentary on how there are no incentives (other than their own sense of pride in their jobs) for public school teachers to be great; indeed, they are sometimes punished for being great. Angela’s pro-freedom-of-expression push in the final act arguably makes the episode overstuffed, but it’s essential because this is the point where she realizes the world is filled with injustices. Vic says “Wake up!,” and she does, following in the footsteps of Brian (in episode 3) by standing up to the censorious principal (Bennet Guillory) of the ironically named Liberty High.

4. “Pilot” (1, Holzman)

The dreamlike lenses of cinematographer Ernest Holzman (Winnie’s brother) put 1994 in a time bubble we can return to whenever we want, with the drab school hallways becoming more comforting and less terrifying as time passes. My views toward the characters will change with time, too. Angela will eventually slot in as a heroically oppressed and intelligent Everyteen, but she doesn’t start that way.

In this first episode, Angela illustrates how dumb teen girls can be. When she and Rayanne are nearly assaulted by older guys outside a bar – saved only because a policeman happens to come by – she views them not as sexual harassers, but as “just guys” – even though she is recounting the scene to Brian, a guy who would never act that way. For now, Brian is not representative of “guys” (or even “one of the gals”); he’s invisible. As for Angela, she’s doing pretty well at achieving “cool” status. The incident, and her survival, makes her the talk of the hallways.

5. “In Dreams Begin Responsibilities” (19, Holzman)

Not originally intended to be the finale, this nonetheless serves as a grace note and launches a thousand “Brian or Jordan?” essays. Brian’s feelings become known to Angela via a letter he writes to her under the guise of Jordan writing it. The episode starts with Angela’s low-grade nightmare about trying to talk to Jordan only to be met with total indifference.

Although we do learn of Jordan’s depth via his talk with Patty (who, not accidentally, sees him as a parallel to her own high school boyfriend who was dreamy but not a long-term option), Angela’s dream isn’t totally wrong. I mean, Jordan calls Brian “Brain” and it’s not because he’s trying to be funny; he really is mentally shallow (if not as emotionally shallow as we might’ve thought). Continued exploration of threads like Graham-and-Hallie, Brian-and-Delia, and Rickie’s situations (being gay – which he says out loud for the first time — and his housing struggle) are unfortunately lost to the cancellation. But the final moment is perfect to go out on: Angela drives off with Jordan, but her thoughts (for the first time ever) are on Brian.

6. “Self-Esteem” (12, Holzman)

It’s tempting to undervalue this episode since it comes on the heels of the masterpiece “Life of Brian,” and because the Angela-Jordan smooch-fests in the boiler room are not my cup of tea. However, Holzman does have a lot to say about the titular theme, centering on the fact that Angela’s self-esteem is unhealthily dependent on Jordan liking her. She admits in her narration that her life is split into kissing Jordan and not kissing Jordan (but even in the latter case she’s thinking about kissing Jordan).

The episode’s use of Buffalo Tom as the name-dropped band at the local club ages well in the sense that Buffalo Tom remains cool. But the balance between the (pseudo-) live music and the drama of Jordan snubbing Angela in public is awkward. As “Buffy” would later show, (pseudo-) live music plays better in build-up or reflective scenes rather than amid the core drama. Still, when “Late at Night” returns as background music over the final sequence – wherein Jordan and Angela hold hands and every main character looks on — it makes for a poignant episode-capper, because it can be seen from so many points of view (including crushed Brian’s).

7. “Resolutions” (16, Ellen Herman)

In a sequel to “So-Called Angels,” Cruz gets to display his acting chops again. We get a heart-wrenching sense of the toll it takes on Rickie to not only be homeless but also to try to keep up the guise that he has somewhere to stay. In a very 1995 moment, we learn that Mr. Katimski (Jeff Perry, “Alaska Daily”) isn’t brushing off Rickie’s need for a place to stay out of disinterest in his student’s well-being. Rather, if the school system finds out Katimski is gay, and secretly living with his boyfriend, it could have serious repercussions for his career. “Resolutions” has a “very special episode” vibe, but so what? It is indeed special.

8. “Why Jordan Can’t Read” (7, Liberty Godshall)

This is the first Jordan-Angela episode that transcends the awkwardness of her crush to become giggle-worthy. Although moments are well-staged by director Mark Piznarski – from the kiss-in-the-car that actually goes well this time (compared to episode 2) to Angela’s awkward hallway date proposal – it’s Danes’ performance that takes it to the next level. Angela’s love (whether puppy love or true love isn’t relevant at this point) for Jordan is apparent in the actress’ eyes. It’s truly heart-stomping when Jordan stands her up after she had gotten dolled up and told her folks to expect him to stop by.

Jordan’s not all bad – he himself is shy about meeting Angela’s parents – but we see and feel these events from the main characters’ perspective, even though the title wrongly suggests this will be a Jordan episode. Also look for compelling Brian moments, particularly his irritation at Angela inviting Jordan to “The Bicycle Thief,” which Angela only understands because Brian had explained it to her. Although Leto (whose versatility I didn’t grasp until after this series) is the obvious pick for “most understated actor,” Gummersall deserves a nod too. Brian’s jealousy and secret love for Angela is subtle enough that Angela’s obliviousness is believable.

9. “Betrayal” (17, Jill Gordon)

The episode starts with Angela realizing she is over Jordan, and her gloriously newfound freedom is captured when she dances around her room – including, not by accident, in the spot where she had broken down crying over Jordan standing her up in episode 7. But similar to how an alcoholic can backslide, Angela finds her feelings resurfacing in a heart-crushing way when she learns Rayanne (backsliding herself) and Jordan had sex. Gordon artfully uses “Our Town” dialog – and Piznarski delivers evocative direction of the late-evening play rehearsal — to illustrate the Angela-Rayanne conflict. In a follow-up to “Life of Brian’s” themes, we again see how everyone hurts each other without meaning to. Angela uses Corey (Adam Biesk), a sexually ambiguous mutual crush, in an attempt to get revenge on Rayanne, ignoring Rickie’s feelings for Corey in the process.

10. “Dancing in the Dark” (2, Holzman)

Angela is obsessed with a Jordan Catalano who is so vaguely “perfect” that he could be a “Sixth Sense”-style figment of her imagination if we didn’t see other people also interact with him. But then she actually has a one-on-one scene with him in his car. He’s ready to kiss her when she’s not ready – twice! Then she’s ready to kiss him (as we know from her inner monolog) but he has (understandably) given up.

Later, Graham tells Angela that “boys your age … can sometimes not know how to be what you want them to be. My point is that, it’s really hard to figure out how to be a man.” Jordan can’t read Angela’s mind, but the adult Graham can. Holzman understands the universe’s sadistically bad sense of timing by lining up bumbling and sexually driven high school guys with romantic-fantasy-driven high school girls. As illustrated by Graham and Patty, these contrasting types can eventually get together. But it might take a while.

11. “Other People’s Mothers” (10, Richard Kramer)

Most of this episode is dominated by Rayanne’s unhinged alcohol-driven behavior. Although Langer pours herself into the role, Rayanne’s troubles skew dangerously close to “Afterschool Special” or even Jessie-in-“Saved by the Bell” territory. But then there’s the intense final act, Patty’s time to shine. We’re hit with a fascinating thematic turnabout: Rayanne’s mom’s (Patti D’Arbanville) permissive parenting perhaps is not so cool. It’s the strict Patty who saves the day by being a mature adult, getting Rayanne to the hospital. Plus, Patty admits that in addition to not being able to stop Angela from doing whatever she wants, she also trusts her daughter. Patty isn’t as out of touch with Angela as we might’ve thought.

12. “Pressure” (13, Herman)

This is a smart treatise on teen (and societal) pressure to have sexual intercourse. Told through the lens of Angela’s partly self-imposed, partly peer-imposed, partly Jordan-imposed pressure, it illustrates the irony of how sex means too little to those who are experienced (Jordan, Rayanne) and too much those who are inexperienced (Angela, Brian). Also peppering in humor – like when “sick-minded” Angela thinks of her teachers having sex, and when a soft-core porn tape finds its way into her backpack — Herman comes to the refreshing conclusion that neither POV is universally right nor wrong. It’s different for each person, and that’s fine.

13. “On the Wagon” (14, Elizabeth Gill)

We catch up with Rayanne (backgrounded since her near-fatal binge-drinking scare in episode 10) and revisit her unhealthy codependent friendship with Rickie. We should’ve known “MSCL” is too smart to have Rayanne simply sober up offscreen, but – as has become its hallmark – it cleverly tricks us into thinking she is fine. Indeed, Patty’s assumptions that Rayanne has taken up drinking again are wrong, and Rickie’s fear that Rayanne’s failure at open-night mic will lead her back to the bottle is likewise misplaced. But then in a simple moment of happiness – while waiting in line for a movie with her friends – Rayanne takes a drink, and “On the Wagon” brilliantly shows how perilous the quest for sobriety can be.

14. “Guns and Gossip” (3, Justin Tanner)

The most libertarian episode is slow-building but effectively bittersweet in the end. Badgered by the principal to go on the record as a witness in a shooting (perhaps implicating Rickie), Brian stands up for his rights in a righteous scene. The principal plays the political card he has to play: He installs metal detectors. This is perhaps intended by Tanner as a statement on the high-crime times, as the episode is peppered with the Chase parents’ dialog about how things used to be better back in their day. But I find the appearance of the metal detectors to be a universal end-of-innocence moment, gaining an extra chill in that the students quickly adjust to this new normal. In the “Gossip” part of the episode, we get one of the most beautifully 1994 scenes: Angela listening to the Cranberries’ “Dreams.” The lyrics perfectly outline her situation as she, 1, deals with the reality that she’s not likely to have sex with Jordan and, 2, tries to squirm away from her mom’s talk about using a condom.

15. “Strangers in the House” (8, Gordon)

For a hospital episode (and one that uses an extremely minor character, Sharon’s father, as the sick person), this is pretty strong. We see the different ways people react to a scary situation, capped by a touching reprise of the restroom crying scene from the pilot, when former besties Angela and Sharon Cherski (Devon Odessa) admit they miss each other. In what almost plays like an exploration of men’s mental health, Graham has to get out of the house because he’s feeling so much pressure in his job that he dislikes. And in a nice moment that shows Brian isn’t invisible to everyone, Sharon calls out Angela for taking him for granted.

16. “The Zit” (5, Betsy Thomas)

The lasting image is Angela toying with the pimple on her chin, hyper-aware of it even though the students around her are not. Patty tries to be helpful, but in a moment that sums up teenagerdom so well, Angela narrates her annoyance at her mom using the word “swab.” Thomas writes a powerful monolog about girls’ insecurities about their looks, as Angela believes she is “ugly”; she’ll never be pretty like her mom. Five episodes in, we realize Danielle won’t always be a running joke as the ignored younger sibling. In a nice conclusion – where we see that the smiling Angela is far from ugly — Danielle joins Patty for the mother-daughter fashion show.

17. “Father Figures” (4, Holzman)

An unusual misfire (by “MSCL’s” standards) from Holzman isn’t totally her fault. The chemistry isn’t there between Armstrong and Paul Dooley (ironically, Holzman’s husband) as Patty’s curmudgeonly dad. He’s acting in a broader show, although admittedly the theme is disconnection between father and daughter. The more compelling version of the titular theme is between Angela and Graham, as she’s going through that odd phase wherein she has to knock her dad off a pedestal, and is looking for reasons to be mad at him. Somewhat weirdly, he’s mad at her, for not going to the Grateful Dead concert when she supposedly has defied her parents’ orders to skip the show.

18. “Halloween” (9, Gordon)

This incomplete-seeming episode becomes more interesting when examined as an inspiration for “Buffy’s” “I Only Have Eyes for You,” which aired three years later. A Liberty High senior in 1963 died from a prank gone wrong, and his ghost – seen only by Angela – haunts the school. Although this is a weak episode – partly because the B-plot of Graham and Patty being turned on by their costumes is not as amusing it wants to be – it’s important for establishing the supernatural in the “MSCL”-verse. This groundwork will be famously mined in the superior holiday episode “So-Called Angels.” One comedic highlight, though: Danielle dresses up as Angela for Halloween, and Wilhoit nails the mannerisms.

19. “Weekend” (18, Adam Dooley)

The term “filler episode” is used by TV critics, but technically there is no such thing: Writers’ don’t intend any episode to be filler, except those clip shows sitcoms used to put out. But this one plays like filler: You could skip it and not miss out on any character arcs, the only “MSCL” episode where that’s the case. It tries to be comedic via Rayanne handcuffing herself to the Chases’ bed, by Patty getting drunk on vacation, and by Danielle taking a turn as the narrator. Danielle does get some funny lines – her life consists of being kicked out of one room after another, and when her crush Brian accidentally brushes against her arm, it makes her day. Still, especially since it’s the penultimate hour, this is a wasted one. It’s the only outright bad “My So-Called Life” episode.