Bottoms

There is a specific kind of "ugly" that only exists in the high school comedy universe—usually a character who is one pair of glasses and a ponytail away from being a supermodel. But PJ and Josie are, quite refreshingly, genuine social pariahs. They aren’t just "quirky"; they are the kind of "gray area" losers who make everyone else in the room slightly uncomfortable. I watched this while wearing a pair of compression socks that were three sizes too small, and the physical restriction honestly mirrored the claustrophobic social anxiety of the opening scenes perfectly.

Directed by Emma Seligman, Bottoms takes the DNA of the 2000s raunch-com—think Superbad (2007) or American Pie (1999)—and mutates it into something far more surreal, queer, and unhinged. It doesn't just subvert the genre; it treats the genre like a sparring partner and knocks its teeth out.

The Art of Being Truly Unlikable

The engine of this film is the chemistry between Rachel Sennott and Ayo Edebiri. Having worked together on the anxiety-inducing Shiva Baby (2020), their shorthand is telepathic. Sennott plays PJ with a frantic, predatory selfishness that is usually reserved for male leads like Jonah Hill. She’s desperate, she’s occasionally mean, and she’s willing to lie about spending time in "juvenile hall" just to get the attention of the school’s elite cheerleaders.

Edebiri, meanwhile, is the perfect foil as Josie. While PJ is the gas pedal, Josie is the brake—though the brakes are failing. Watching Ayo Edebiri attempt to flirt is like watching a car crash in slow motion; it’s painful, cringe-inducing, and deeply relatable for anyone who spent their teenage years overthinking their own heartbeat. Most modern comedies are too afraid of letting their protagonists be genuinely shitty people, but Bottoms treats its leads like the messy, horny idiots they are.

The supporting cast is equally game. Ruby Cruz provides the film’s emotional anchor as Hazel, while Havana Rose Liu and Kaia Gerber play the "hot girls," Isabel and Brittany, with a surprising amount of interiority. To my surprise, Kaia Gerber actually has comedic timing that doesn't feel like a 'nepo-baby' handout. She plays Brittany with a vacant, ethereal quality that makes her the perfect object of PJ’s misguided affection.

A World Built on Glitter and Broken Ribs

What sets Bottoms apart from the current crop of "Netflix-aesthetic" teen movies is its commitment to absurdism. The world of Rockbridge High is not our world. The football players (led by a hilarious Nicholas Galitzine as the fragile, dim-witted Jeff) wear their full pads and helmets to every class. There is a giant mural of Jeff in the hallway as if he’s a fallen war hero. The school’s obsession with its failing football team is treated with the gravity of a cult.

When PJ and Josie start their self-defense club—under the guise of female empowerment but secretly just a way to touch girls—the violence is not stylized or "cool." It’s crunchy. People get punched in the face, hard. There is blood, there are bruises, and the girls genuinely learn how to beat the hell out of each other. Maria Rusche’s cinematography uses a saturated, pop-art palette that makes the red of the blood pop against the locker-room pastels.

The score, co-composed by Charli xcx, adds to the frantic, "cool girl" energy of the film. It feels like a fever dream of the 2020s, capturing the irony and hyper-fixations of Gen Z without ever feeling like it’s "pander-y." It’s a film made by people who clearly love the genre enough to burn it down.

The Marshawn Lynch Factor

If you told me ten years ago that one of the funniest performances in a 2023 queer comedy would come from a retired NFL running back, I would have assumed we were living in a simulation. Marshawn Lynch plays Mr. G, the club's reluctant faculty advisor, and he is a total scene-stealer. He spends most of his time reading a book called A History of Feminism (which he clearly hasn't opened) and delivering lines with a deadpan nonchalance that suggests he wandered onto the wrong set but decided to stay because the catering was good.

Turns out, Lynch took the role as a way to honor his sister, who is part of the LGBTQ+ community. Knowing that adds a layer of warmth to his character, even when he’s being a completely incompetent teacher. It’s this kind of "behind-the-scenes" heart that keeps the movie from feeling too cynical.

The production itself felt like a lightning-in-a-bottle moment. Filmed on a modest $11.3 million budget, it feels much bigger thanks to its stylized direction. While the third act veers into territory so over-the-top it threatens to break the movie’s own logic—involving a rival school, a pineapple juice allergy, and literal explosions—the sheer audacity of the script (co-written by Sennott and Seligman) carries it through.

Bottoms is a loud, bloody, and hilarious middle finger to the idea that queer cinema needs to be "important" or "polite." It’s a movie that celebrates the right of teenage girls to be just as stupid, violent, and motivated by hormones as the boys have been for decades. It’s a cult classic in the making, the kind of film that I can see being quoted at sleepovers for the next twenty years. If you’re tired of comedies that feel like they were written by an algorithm to be "pleasant," go get punched in the face by this one.