throughout the decades, film watchers have time and again born witness to the inherent bitchiness that is so often a prominent aspect of the multi-faceted female character, even (and often especially) in relation to her so-called friends. in this respect, as in multitudes of others, art mimics life. it's not that men DON'T treat one another with their own sort of hierarchical name-calling and blatant mistreatment--this is also part of human nature--it's just that women have perfected an implicit meanness at such a young age and to such fine capability that there really is no comparison. girls use stealth and finesse to traumatize their victims, knowing exactly where and how hard to hit with words that could curb a grizzly bear were it susceptible to such things. Jawbreaker is brilliant in the respect that it captures this particular piece of the female persona to a remarkable degree, and then shows us what can happen when it all goes horribly wrong. even the most devious of these characters can eventually take a misstep, leading to her own rapid downfall at the feet of the minions who, only moments before, simultaneously despised, feared and adored her--and all with the tenacity and devotion one affords to a queen.
as onlookers, we should ourselves applaud the downfall of this character--and wholeheartedly, but somewhere deep down there is a piece of each of us in her; and so we temper our applause with the bittersweet tang of self-acknowledgement. we know this girl, we've seen this girl, and on some level, we've been this girl. she is as vulnerable and as unsure as we are in the end, and for this--as rotten as she appears to be underneath the extent between her perfectly coiffed hair and her perfectly shellaced toes--we find we must feel some amount of empathy.