Film Review: Acid Test (2022)
Perhaps I’m being overly critical, but Jenny Waldo’s Acid Test doesn’t resemble anything I remember from the early-’90s Riot Grrrl scene. I’m sure I was, at least in part, an oblivious teenage boy back then, but I’ve got a pretty good head for these kinds of remembrances. This is partially because, after all these years, I still think Riot Grrrl — the bands, the politics, the zines, and even the fashion — is one of the most badass movements to ever kick a chauvinist asshole right in the dick. I was, and remain, immeasurably influenced by what I learned from Riot Grrrl. In contrast, if Acid Test is any indication, for Waldo it was nothing more than a short-lived phase.
And you know what? That’s fine because Acid Test isn’t really about Riot Grrrl anyway. Its real story is about privileged suburban overachiever Jenny (Juliana Destefano) having the earth-shattering revelation that maybe Harvard isn’t for her. The politics of radical feminism take a near-permanent back seat to whining and shallow juvenile diatribes about, you know, like, patriarchy and stuff. Even the film’s supposed symbol of sexist power structures (Jenny’s dad, played by Brian Thornton) turns out to be not such a bad guy in the end. It’s gutless, and, if true — as Waldo claims — it’s also pointless.
There’s more: Jenny’s journey of self-discovery begins as she reads Riot Grrrl zines at a punk show and takes acid with a cute boy she likes. (I’m pretty sure we’re already at strike three, but I’ll continue.) Soon, she’s boldly tacking a political sloganeering flier to her bedroom wall and letting her journal know exactly how she feels about it. She also wears her headphones backwards whenever she listens to her walkman (strike four).
It isn’t long before she cuts her hair (in all honesty, this is something the film actually gets close to right — parents in 1992 couldn’t stand it when girls “looked like boys” or worse, lesbians), gets a giant pair of Doc Martens that she’s never shown wearing, and discovers the magic of personal sharpie expression. As she expands her horizons, though, whether or not to go to Harvard remains her biggest concern. Yawn.
Adding insult to injury, Acid Test includes not only zero music from the era, but not even a mention of the movement’s formative bands. I did spot a Bikini Kill sticker and a Slant 6 poster in the background (fun fact: Slant 6’s “What Kind of Monster are You?” seven inch was the second record I ever mailordered), but these afterthoughts hardly make up for the film’s complete lack of authenticity.
Even the live performances (by what I can only assume are real bands) are so completely stripped of urgency and power that they become a near-parody of both punk and radical feminism. It’s as if Waldo has never been to a punk show before, and is attempting to mimic how other movies always incorrectly depict them. For someone who supposedly lived this story, I’m pretty damned disappointed with how poorly such a vital piece of it is represented.
Originally published by ASHEVILLE MOVIES.
