Twenty years ago this month (August 2003), Ryan Atwood crashed into the private school world of Newport Beach, his very presence shaking up the lives of the teens and families all around him. With few precious words and cryptic batted eyelids, Ryan thrust found-family brother Seth out of his shell, enchanted troubled girl next door Marissa out of her predictable bubble, shocked socialites, water polo jocks, and newspaper nerds, alike.
A catalyst for a show full of drama, but probably more heart than the wave of prime time soaps in rode with. Yes, The O.C. was full of nonsense, but the characters and the relationships, the non-competitive friendship between main characters Seth and Ryan, created a warmth at the core, that gave the impression that The O.C. was sweeter, somehow more relatable, than teen soaps that came before, or those that followed after.
A little over ten years ago, I was attempting to articulate what lies at the centre of the TV Teen Drama. I studied narrative, and character, and themes, and identities, in an attempt to conceptualize a genre. The shows I chose to study ranged, from earnest, heartfelt, realism to high melodrama, but always with teens and high school at the centre.
Naturally, I HAD to include The O.C. in my list. When this show came out in 2003, it slotted itself into my life perfectly: this was the teen drama in which the characters on screen were exactly the same age I was. Not one year older, not my age while I was watching, but came out 5 years earlier. If Marissa, and Summer, and Seth, and Ryan had gone to my school, they would have been in my grade! They were my peers.
Sure, they were rich, and dysfunctional, and lived in Newport Beach, and could drive, and had cell phones, which I definitely didn’t have yet. But they were my age! I can’t quite articulate why that mattered, but it felt significant, that a show this wild and adventurous and fun would come about just in time for me to turn 16 (around Chrismukkah). I bonded to this show, and the sweetness at the centre of a spicy prime time teen soap can’t be denied.
It can be overlooked, and this show is not without its flaws. Namely, pouring about three seasons of plot into the first 27 episodes might have had something to do with both how easily it got its hooks into people like me, and also how it went a little off the rails a little too quickly. But despite the drug overdoses, the inappropriate adult-teen relationships, the improbable love triangles, and the many many fancy parties, I keep coming back to the sweet gooey centre. The Seth and Ryan hanging out in the pool house. The moments of calm in between all that other stuff, where friends actually like spending time together and being goofy. Where teen boys can hug each other without gay panic. Where found family and friendship can actually comfort in the midst of prejudice, and guilt, and all kinds of capital D Drama.
Somehow in the midst of all that, The O.C. was somehow… relatable? Like, despite never having been to California, never having experienced private school identity politics, never having dressed up for a fancy soirée, let alone bought a new outfit weekly, I could identify with these kids’ ennui, their style of thrill seeking and intimacy seeking that just resounded with relatable TEEN FEELINGS.
So, I think it’s fair to call The O.C. groundbreaking, and utterly of its time. The aughts were a decade when cell phones were new. Social media wasn’t a thing yet. The line between private and public was in the process of blurring. This show became iconic, for its soundtrack, and its drama, and for letting the Seth Cohens of the world be leading men. It created outsiders out of cool kids, and romantic leads out of comic book geeks, and assured us that that was OK. In the midst of glitz, and reputation, and expectation, and wealth, it carved a space for love of all kinds, and even made space for jokes.
It’s weird to get all mushy when I think about how Julie Cooper slept with Marissa’s high school boyfriend and then Seth’s grandfather (what is this show?!), but I honestly don’t think so many of us would have loved it so much if it was all inappropriate relationships, alcoholism, and water polo bullies with no soft warm heart at the centre of it all.
So thanks for all the feelings, O.C., I still celebrate Chrismukkah every year.
