The 2000s were a defining decade for indie and arthouse films—experimental cinematography and quirky characters with trendy wardrobes dominated the film industry. Recently, one such movie, Thirteen (2003), has been making rounds on social media, coinciding with the resurgence of the Y2K aesthetic that has encompassed both clothing and its larger surrounding culture.
I was first introduced to this movie through a clip that appeared ad nauseum on my Instagram explore page: two teen girls size each other up as the camera pans over their outfits in a series of rapid close-ups. Call me after school. We can go shopping on Melrose, says the one with heavy eyeliner and a belly piercing. The other, markedly less cool, accepts her offer enthusiastically.
The aesthetics alone drew me in. Low-rise bootcut jeans, leather studded bracelets, and Converse All Stars recalled Y2K fashion in its most authentic form; many commenters under each repost were similarly intrigued by their style.
In my mind, Thirteen was likely to be be another coming-of-age film no different from Mean Girls or Clueless, which explore the plights of teen girls—drama, gossip, crushes, and all. While important for universalizing the teen girl experience, these movies often explore such topics in a lighthearted and surface-level manner. Yet the film subverted my (admittedly) shallow preconceptions.
In the opening scene of Thirteen, for example, we witness the aforementioned girls take turns huffing a can of computer duster while repeatedly hitting each other in the face until blood is drawn. In their delirium, the pain doesn’t register—rather, they’re both giddy with excitement.
The rest of the movie takes on a similarly energetic yet dark tone. The protagonist Tracy (Evan Rachel Wood), starts eighth grade as a wholesome, poetry-loving honors student who, despite leading an externally stable life, self-harms and smokes to cope with the stress of having an absent father and overworked alcoholic mother. Soon she befriends Evie (Nikki Reed)—the “cool girl” with the belly piercing and trendy clothes—and is dragged down alongside her on a downward spiral of theft, hard drugs, and superficial romances.
The movie’s rawness is embedded in nearly every aspect of its production. Reed co-wrote the script when she herself was 13, alongside director Catherine Hardwicke. Reed took charge of the storyline and characters; she based Tracy’s character on herself and her experiences with her parents and peers. Hardwicke merely used her knowledge as a film director to structure Reed’s creation. They finalized the script within six days. The dialogue and characters are thus unequivocally authentic—especially considering that both actors were 14 when cast in the movie.
The actual shooting of the movie, which happened over the course of 24 days with a low-budget handheld camera, was characterized by the same sense of chaos. Fast-paced scenes, dynamic shots, and experimental lighting echo the excitement and ephemerality of Tracy and Evie’s exploits.
For the average person, the events that take place in Thirteen may seem worlds away from reality. Yet the movie provides a heart-wrenchingly real depiction of growing up. Everyone can relate to Tracy’s desire to fit in and become “cool” and the inner turmoil that accompanies it, even if they don’t necessarily dabble in drugs and petty crime or go to such lengths to escape the reality of their home lives. All the same, the film never glamorizes such destructive behavior; it serves as a cautionary tale, warning viewers that the highs the characters indulge in are only temporary.
