Katie Manzer
CODA (2021). Dir. Siân Heder.
At the climax of Siân Heder’s 2021 coming-of-age film, CODA, Ruby (Emilia Jones) sings Joni Mitchell’s “Both Sides Now” as her audition for Berklee College of Music. She begins her performance somewhat rocky and insists on starting over to regain her composure. Finally, after a boost of confidence, Ruby performs the song beautifully and earns herself a place at this prestigious school, kickstarting the next chapter of her life. Ruby’s final breakthrough in her performance arises through her use of ASL, signing the song lyrics as she sings to communicate with her deaf family and impress the admissions board. In other films within the coming-of-age genre, one would have rarely seen a lens such as disability used to deepen this character’s understanding of herself and her family, yet, today, this does not feel out of place at all.
Coming-of-age films like CODA continue to stay relevant in our modern culture despite the fact that we have seen similar character dramas presented in the same filmic language for decades. What has changed, however, are the lenses with which we view these films and the types of stories that are now being presented. In this new era of the coming-of-age genre, we can see stories like CODA, which examines Ruby’s burden of being the only hearing member of a deaf family, and not feel alienated from her experience. Films like this can grant audiences access to a world with which they are unfamiliar, thus inspiring more understanding and relation to those from different backgrounds. With an increase in audience empathy and outreach, the coming-of-age genre now has the space to become fully realized, touching on any and all facets of adolescence and creating new and original stories. This range and increase in scope can only be beneficial for coming-of-age films and their core adolescent viewership, as it encourages new stories to be told and keeps the genre from becoming too stagnant or derivative, while providing interesting and varied representation of all types of people.
But what does it mean to come of age?
This question is very broad but it is one that filmmakers have been asking since the dawn of film history. The coming-of-age film is a staple of our modern culture - being, at its most basic structure, a story that details a character’s physical and emotional journey from childhood to adulthood. In practice, coming-of-age films tend to focus on a pivotal moment of adolescence (more often than not, a romance or another important relationship) that can represent a character’s growth - or lack thereof - and their shifting understanding of the world. Frequent iconographic and thematic constants within the genre include high school, college, summer, friendships, family dynamics, work, and romance, with varying interplay between many of these concepts. Within these parameters, we can examine some common traits of coming-of-age stories and begin to understand the change that has arisen in their modern iterations.
Standard coming-of-age films have historically tended to focus on young adults and teens, with those subjects very often being white, straight, modestly affluent, and able-bodied. While the first “teen film” is generally considered to be 1959’s Rebel Without a Cause, the concept became the most lucrative in the 1980s. The slew of coming-of-age films from the 1980s to the early 2000s, popularized particularly through the works of John Hughes, represented a growing youth audience that more studios sought to cater to by depicting common experiences and issues. There is, however, a notable difference between the teen film and the coming-of-age film, with the former depicting more of the hijinks surrounding teenhood or a slice-of-life look at teen life, while the latter focuses more on character growth and emotional evolution. The two genres can and do overlap, as some teen comedies also function as dramatic character studies, like Booksmart (2019) or Clueless (1995), and other more official coming-of-age films may delve into teen hijinks, like Lady Bird (2016) or Dead Poets Society (1989). As well, coming-of-age films do not necessarily need to focus on teenagers or young adults; adolescents are the typical subjects because they experience more sudden, life-altering changes in rapid succession than most adults or children. Nevertheless, the subject matter of coming-of-age films are tailored to their core adolescent audience, but are also often aimed at a very narrow subsect of the population to which many may not relate.
The representational issues within coming-of-age films have been glaringly obvious since John Hughes’ initial reign in the 1980s. Despite these filmmakers’ excellent insight into adolescent angst, there have been many stories that have gone untold due to biases from both studios and filmgoers of the time. The issue of class within this genre has always been irregular, with some films addressing it head0-on, like Dirty Dancing (1987) and Pretty In Pink (1986), while others seem not to understand the privilege many well-to-do adolescent leads possess over their peers. Interestingly, coming-of-age films have represented a rarity throughout film history because their leads have been quite consistently balanced in terms of gender, unlike many other genres. When looking at films within this genre in any era, one can find strong and complex male and female leads - from Bender in The Breakfast Club (1985) to Cady in Mean Girls (2004). While depictions of gender have been fairly equal in quantity, they have not been equal in quality, as many female-centric coming-of-age films focus on their characters needing a relationship to find fulfillment, versus the more personal and philosophical growth that male characters often receive. What has been even less equal, however, are the representations of race and sexual orientation throughout mainstream coming-of-age film history.
Although issues of class tend to be, on the whole, better addressed in modern coming-of-age films, stories with non-white-straight-cis protagonists are still relatively rare. Despite the numerous black-led coming-of-age films produced in the 1990s and 2000s, their success in the black community has not translated to the general public, apart from stragglers like Love Don’t Cost a Thing (2003) and Boyz n the Hood (1991). In the modern mainstream, however, we have been met with films like Love Simon (2018) and The Miseducation of Cameron Post (2018) that seek to exemplify two very different but common queer experiences - coming out and being sent to conversion therapy, respectively. These films and others like them seek to address the heteronormative bias inherent in many stories of adolescence, as it is often assumed that every boy will grow up liking girls or vice versa, when there is far more nuance to be found. Films like To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before (2018) and Moonlight (2016) centre asian and black lead characters respectively, diverting from the traditional formula and offering new cultural insights and particularities to the genre. While stories centring racialized characters may follow other tropes of a more standard white coming-of-age narrative, simply adding elements of family lineage, culture, religion, or other common associations with one’s ethnicity can add considerable depth and layers to the story. In terms of films of this genre that depict transgender or non-binary characters, there exist a small few but many have been criticized by the community as being potentially harmful, voyeuristic, or improperly representational; films like Girl (2018) and Boys Don’t Cry (1999) have found the most mainstream success from this subgenre.
All of this brings us back to CODA. Interestingly enough, CODA follows so many tropes of the coming-of-age film to the point where it is almost trite. When the deafness element is removed from the story, it becomes a film that we have seen time and time again: a high school senior struggles with her family as she seeks to pursue her passion at a college across the country. Though, in this case, the reason Ruby’s family doesn’t understand her passion for music is not due to ignorance or unwillingness like other typical unsupportive parents - it is because they literally cannot experience music in the same way that she does. The film even utilizes this disability framework to further ostracize Ruby as “the kid with the embarrassing family” among her peers at school. One can even argue that the trite tropes of previous coming-of-age films that are entrenched within CODA are only amplified through this disability lens. These clichéd bones are inherent to the film’s DNA, oftentimes detracting from the more interesting story of a daughter stretched thin from having to work full-time as her family’s translator. Yet, one of the most emotionally affecting scenes in the film comes near its ending, in which Ruby’s father (Troy Kotsur) asks her to sing for him while the two are alone. She begins to sing Marvin Gaye’s “You're All I Need to Get By” as he places his hands on her throat and feels the vibrations of her vocal cords. In this scene, her father comes to better understand Ruby’s passion and talent despite not being able to hear her. Through this transcendent character moment, the film’s deafness framework is able to speak to a portion of reality that many filmgoers have not had to experience for themselves, but can come to better understand.
These alternative experiences and particular portions of reality are quickly becoming the focus of the new generation of coming-of-age films. From Call Me By Your Name (2017) to Rocks (2019) and even Tall Girl and its sequel (2019, 2022) -- modern iterations of this genre are centring more and more on fringe groups within society. Another extremely important, yet often misunderstood, element of new coming-of-age films is the presence and influence of the internet and social media on young people today. While internet users are not minorities by any means, the mental ramifications of growing up under the public eye are something that we do not yet fully understand, but this reality is being examined by films like Eighth Grade (2018) and Ingrid Goes West (2017). These films that speak to particular portions of society and those which evolve with the times help the coming-of-age genre to maintain its relevance and deepen the audience's relation to a film. This allows filmmakers to more easily speak on real issues young people are facing without needing to rely so heavily on the tropes of the past, as specificity engenders greater audience engagement. As well, broadening the horizons of audience members to communities and experiences that they have never previously appreciated helps to foster more empathy and understanding, especially among the young people who consume these films the most.
Though it has gone through many changes, the coming-of-age genre isn’t going anywhere. The genre has existed as a means of giving young people a greater voice throughout its history, with filmmakers seeking to understand and represent the tumultuous time of teenhood. Today, there are more stories than ever about young people in racialized communities, queer romances, people with disabilities, unconventional families, people living in poverty, and - yes - even abnormally tall girls. All of this is for the best when it comes to diversifying and strengthening the true core of the coming-of-age story: character growth. If characters and plots feel stagnant, boring, or predictable within a genre, it means that development is inevitable and should be welcomed. This new wave of inclusive, surprising, and complex coming-of-age films are a refreshing addition to an already robust pantheon of character studies through the decades.
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