Plan B offers a refreshing alternative to typical teen comedies
I’ve never watched a teen comedy on a streaming service without seeing a trailer first, being messaged a recommendation, or seeing mixed reviews on Twitter. This is especially true in the few cases with South Asian female leads, and after a handful of disappointing casting choices and plot points, I don’t usually have high hopes in the instances I do see someone who looks like me playing the main character.
The Indian Girl is usually highly academically driven, makes self-deprecating jokes about her body hair, and a socially awkward virgin with her eyes set on the (nearly) unattainable athletic, popular white boy. Whether it’s been the writing of Mindy Kaling with The Mindy Project (2012-2015) or Never Have I Ever (2020 - present), Natalie Krinsky’s The Broken Hearts Gallery (2020), you can never have all three:
- a central romance between two South Asian characters
- a South Asian female lead
- the brown woman not being her own constant punchline
I stumbled across Plan B (2021), which is directed by Natalie Morales from a screenplay written by Parthian Srinivasan and Joshua Levy, while mindlessly scrolling Hulu with my partner at the time, who — and I am aware of the hypocrisy — is a white man. Social distancing mandates had caused me to stay home more than ever and entertain shows and movies I hadn’t never caught onto or heard of. I no longer had the excuse of work/grad school because we were off for the summer or other plans to keep me away from what I presumed I would not enjoy. I’m definitely known in my social and even academic/professional circles as a vocational, outspoken media critic (film degree needed to go somewhere), particularly in regards to anything that attempts to champion representation for Indian women and/or queer folks.
“Ugh, this is probably going to be about a nerdy Indian girl who wants to ‘lose her virginity’ to a generic white boy,” I remember muttering, not even clicking to see the trailer or Wikipedia’ing the entire cast as I often do when I think I recognize someone from somewhere. (Hunter was the only vaguely familiar face; he is played by Michael Provost, who is known for playing Brick Armstrong in Netflix’s 2018-2019 series Insatiable, another show I decided to delve into during the pandemic.)
Again, I am aware that I myself carry biases and am constantly working through my own self-criticism as the highly academically driven Indian girl who “lost her virginity” to a white boy, too. I think that is part of my frustration with media that reinforces my own unoriginality and susceptibility to the most common narrative about people like me that could ever be made available to the masses.
My partner headed home for the night, and I ended up watching Plan B anyways while waiting for the text that he had arrived back at his place. This got me through more than half the film in the meantime. Call it a desire to chase my confirmation bias, cure my boredom, or maybe even indulge in a brief moment of open-mindedness and giving the movie a chance. Sometimes, we just click on something to help us pass the time, don’t we?
The movie starts as many teen flicks do, with an alternating montage sequence of our main character, Sunny (played by Kuhoo Verma) getting ready for the school day, contrasted by the routine of her best friend, Lupe (played by Victoria Moroles), the rebellious stoner type who begins vaping upon waking up. The dollhouse-like interior of Sunny’s bedroom is where she turns her stuffed elephant’s eyes away as she starts masturbating to an image of a naked person in her biology textbook, the closest she gets to a penis (until later that night). This scene alone probably should’ve been a sign that the nerdy virgin trope is being exaggerated, and this film is being ironic, but my past viewership of such narratives and depictions made it take me a bit longer to realize Plan B is actually a parody of everything I love to hate about these kinds of movies. And it did it so well, it seemed sincere. Which makes everything even funnier.
Religious, conservative parents who leave little room for independence, mistakes, or creative expression. Check. This will fuel the fire, the secrecy, the mayhem that is going to ensue to keep whatever the secret is.
Establishing shots of a small, boring town that cannot contain their personalities or desires. Check. check.
Solo slumber parties with the only other friend you have who also indulges your nerdy hobbies, like anime and thousand-piece puzzles. Okay. Slumber party becomes a “rager” to capture the attention of the love interest while Sunny’s mom is conveniently out of town. Nothing new here.
But I was ignoring, in my own hunt for righteousness, that Sunny and Lupe are witty, unconcerned with popularity, and content in each other’s company. There are love interests, sure, but these girls aren’t pining for school wide validation, trying to win prom queen, or victims of a cruel bet. Megan and Emma are the popular girls (thin, white blondes who display their sexuality more explicitly to contrast the inexperienced Sunny) who get barely any screen time, with very little dialogue. Looking back, that might be one of the top three things I appreciate about Plan B. It didn’t entertain the idea that Sunny or Lupe wanted to be Megan or Emma, or that the other girls were necessarily the enemy.
Our dynamic duo is just angsty and horny, in a way that is honest and humorous without being crass or a regurgitation of every other portrayal of a sexually frustrated main character who will do whatever it takes to get the guy. In this story, the main character is driven by the will to do whatever it takes to not be pregnant, which will be more devastating for her than graduating as a virgin.
Lupe’s astute observations, snappy comebacks, and apathy for the opinions or well-being of anyone but her best friend complements Sunny’s anxious demeanor well. At one point, she counters Sunny’s description of her crush Hunter as “an athletic librarian” with the remark that wearing a cardigan while playing hockey actually just gives off “major guidance counselor vibes”. Lupe’s presence and commentary is not only a comedic foil to Sunny, but throughout the film, we see how she does not sacrifice her independent thoughts and desires to serve Sunny’s story, and Lupe herself gets a proper plot line that is explored meaningfully while the night goes on.
Like I said, it’s nice to not see screen time dominated by the forgettable popular girls (I had to Google the character list, that’s how little they are mentioned). I think the most memorable interaction was when one of the girls, Megan, grabs Hunter’s hockey stick euphemistically and comments how it’s dry(?) and proceeds to run her tongue upside it, as Hunter advises, “I definitely wouldn’t lick it.”
Some other classic traits of the teen comedy you may be able to spot are well distributed throughout the scenes in the high school and podunk small town places Sunny and Lupe that head to in their wild goose chase for a Plan B pill or the generous doors of Planned Parenthood.
The characters themselves often make jabs at many of the tropes that they represent themselves, reminiscent of the meta-comedic and punchy writing of Mean Girls (2004). There’s even a random line reminiscent of the tampon/pad joke about heavy flows, but I don’t know if that parallel was intentional. I also never expected to talk about that movie like it’s historical cinema. Oof.
Even socially uncoordinated and easily flustered Sunny provides a lot of snappy one-liners that land as criticisms of how teenage/Indian girls are perceived and not as conformity. And Kuhoo’s comedic timing and facial expressions — notably the entire time her character is accidentally high — are some definite highlights. Sunny is an underdog I was actually rooting for, and not because you’re supposed to even when the character is unlikeable. Sunny is likeable, and when we really only have the messy Mindy Lahiri or Devi Vishwakumar as examples, it was nice to want things to work out for her for reasons other than “Oh, finally an Indian girl as the lead! I have to like her no matter what!” Sometimes, I feel hesitant to be as critical of the few media representations I have because I don’t want to come across like I haven’t worked on my internalized racism or misogyny; I have and of course I still am. At the same time, there are productions in which the few South Asian characters I get to see are very difficult to defend, even if they are written as quirky, understandably flawed, or a “hot mess”.
Plan B makes room, without negotiating, for other important parts of teenagehood. At the root of the story is the bond between two best friends who treat each other’s company as what will make high school, heartache, an unexpected pregnancy, angry parents all survivable. Sunny and Lupe’s friendship is a love story in itself, as they show audience members all you really need is that one best friend at a party, on a road trip, through all the chaos of your life, as the trusted keeper of your secrets.
Similar to Never Have I Ever’s Devi and other teen movies, Sunny also participates in the omission of truth about who, if anyone, she loses her virginity to. Hunter isn’t concerned with public image or aligns with the dumb jock stereotype, instead offering a more surprising charm that even Sunny isn’t aware of at first. It is worth noting how much focus is placed on giving dimension to side characters in this movie, even if how they act doesn’t change the course of the plot overall.
I also appreciate the mention of the Indian Mafia, which, if you don’t already know what it is, you will find out after watching. And despite Lupe’s reassurance and this movie being fiction, it is very much real.
And so is the problematic “conscience clause”, mentioned early on as an obstacle to Sunny’s body autonomy. Important reminders of the additional barriers that young women of colour face in seeking reproductive healthcare in this country can be found throughout the mayhem that the two friends have to endure. At the same time, the movie also makes space for a low brow line in which Sunny complains that it will take 69 hours to get to the nearest Planned Parenthood.
Without denying or pigeon-holing the experiences of closeted queer teens, Plan B also reminds viewers that there are places throughout the country where kids do not feel safe to be themselves and do find solace, support, and love in online communities.
I found both Kuhoo Verma’s and Victoria Moroles’ individual portrayals of 17-year-olds juggling various aspects of their identities and their dynamic together as breakout performances, and I look forward to seeing what else they star in.
The pacing of the film is naturally aided by the race against the clock when it comes to the efficacy of retrieving and taking the morning after pill, but there is a fun rhythm that balances coincidence, pleasant surprises, and complete shock that challenged everything I thought I was going to see by the time I got to the middle of the movie. Often, there is a lazy montage to indicate the passage of time and the viewer has the responsibility of filling in the plot with an understanding that relationships have developed, changed, or fizzled out. But Plan B keeps you comfortably engaged, and by the time my partner texted me that he was home, I happily accepted that I actually had no idea what was going to happen in this movie and that it had grown on me. I was enjoying the ride that Sunny and Lupe’s overnight misadventures were taking me on as an amused bystander, and that wasn’t a feeling I had gotten from anything aimed at a young adult audience in awhile.
It even captures nuanced parts of being a teenager of color in a small, predominantly white town, like the gentle, fluttery feeling of finally getting to spend time with someone who helps you peel back so many layers, the unexpected blending of friend groups, innocent misinterpretations, and the underestimation of the love of parents who do try to sustain tradition but still know how to unconditionally love and support their children. This is especially important to see in 2021.
I appreciate the soft, mundane but vulnerable moments where the characters grow closer. There doesn’t need to be a massive blow out or tear that needs mending - though those moments do occur - for relationships to progress, and it takes good writing to not have to rely on “this only happens in movies” moments. People become friends and sometimes more in the regular, everyday moments during conversations, meals, or in chilly parking lots in South Dakota of all places.
In hindsight, I am glad I didn’t watch the trailer for Plan B, even if it likely would have meant I would have picked up on what was ironically or unironically included in the story. Because it meant that I got to enjoy the movie as a chaotic buddy comedy (Verma and Moroles are seriously hilarious together) and remove the lens of criticizing just how Indian and queer and feminist based on previous disappointments it could be. I wasn’t even watching it with the intention to write a review after, which would otherwise automatically apply the critical lens and often ruins my own viewing experience because I’m mentally picking the movie or show apart.
I’m writing this review mostly to say I liked having my skepticism put in check. Scattered across various stereotypical plot points were instances that made me appreciate that people are still making these types of movies, a genre I was hoping would die out if it was going to keep giving us the same formula.
Because that means there are going to be movies like Plan B, which take a different route.