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Sep 23, 2024 Web Exclusive By Mollie Hawkins Photography by The Criterion Collection

“Let the love feast begin!”

Amid the current wave of ‘90s nostalgia—its fashion, music, and pre-internet bliss—there couldn’t be a better time for Criterion to restore Gregg Araki’s Teen Apocalypse Trilogy in a stunning 3-disc box set. The release includes Totally F****d Up (1993), The Doom Generation (1995), and Nowhere (1997), three iconic films helped define New Queer Cinema. Previously hard to find (unless VHS still is your thing), Criterion delivers a real gem, packed with extras to delight both longtime and new Araki fans alike.

Inspired by Jean-Luc Godard’s French new wave film, Masculin féminin: 15 faits précis (1966), Totally F****d Up is a documentary-like film told in “15 random celluloid fragments,” following a group of queer friends and lovers in a volatile Los Angeles. Starring James Duval as Andy—Araki’s muse and leading man for the entire trilogy—the group searches for meaning and hope in a disaffected America where AIDS and violence claim peers and morality warriors target queer people, rock music, and drugs. Fortunately, Totally F****d Up has all these things, and more! Nihilism, loneliness, and a slamming soundtrack against seedy goth clubs and grungy parking lots—it’s all there, building these poetic vignettes into an ultimately tragic conclusion. What more could we expect from the Araki-verse?

Araki was just getting warmed up with Totally F****d Up, though it wasn’t his first film. He’d already made a name for himself with Three Bewildered People in the Night (1987), The Long Weekend (O’ Despair) (1989), and most notably, The Living End (1992). Araki made the most of his low budgets and lack of permits, but it wasn’t until The Doom Generation, the second installment of the trilogy, that his talent as a visual artist took center stage.

If Totally F****d Up asks the question, ‘can life as a young person really be this tragic and messed up?,’ The Doom Generation says, ‘hold my beer. ‘Starring Duval as Jordan, a chill guy who would follow his foulmouthed girlfriend, Amy (Rose McGowan) anywhere, the two embark on a meth- and junk-food-filled road trip around Los Angeles with a sexy stranger, Xavier (Jonathan Schaech). Tensions and lust rise quickly in this dark, fever dream of a film, where decapitated heads won’t stop talking, long silences are broken by belches or the lighting of another cigarette and all problems can be solved by sex and a pit stop at the record store. This “heterosexual film” is more poly-curious than straight-shooting, with Amy being the object of everyone’s affection (including a notable appearance by Parker Posey as a scorned former lover).

The closeup shots and set design of The Doom Generation are what make the film so unforgettable, with moody noir lighting and an abundance of reds—red hotel rooms, red lipstick, and the striking red stripes of the American flag—that appear throughout the trilogy as a symbol of both good and evil. A hotel room covered in black-and-white checkers, and a sleazy bar wrapped in tinfoil, add a surreal, dreamlike quality to the restless violence simmering beneath the surface. This hellish, dystopian journey ends in the familiar territory of Araki’s works: gruesome disappointment.

In one of the supplemental features in the box set, Araki discusses his desire to make a film that combined the Lynchian world of Twin Peaks with the L.A. teenage soap opera world of Melrose Place and Beverly Hills 90210. He succeeds on all fronts with Nowhere, a Bacchanalian acid trip of a movie about the last day of the world. A linear timeline follows Dark (James Duval), playing a familiar doe-eyed, lovestruck, lonely pretty guy of the previous two films, as he pines for the new guy, Montgomery (Nathan Bexton), and to be the only lover of his girlfriend, Mel (Rachel True). But Mel, along with the rest of the star-studded cast, are mostly looking for nothing in this world except having a good time and skipping class.

Imagine the last day on earth, seen through the eyes of horny ‘90s teenagers in LA with a lot of time and good outfits on their hands, and you have just the first five minutes of Nowhere. Araki manages to give a huge cast of characters their own wants, turning points and conclusions without confusing the plot—not even when the aliens show up. And show up, they do. But aliens don’t keep Dark, Mel, Lucifer (Kathleen Robertson), Dingbat (Christina Applegate), Shad (Ryan Phillippe), Lilith (Heather Graham) and crew from a chaotic house party at Jujyfruit’s (Gibby Haynes, lead singer of the Butthole Surfers) house.

Nowhere features guest appearances by a surprising number of celebrities—from Denise Richards to John Ritter, Guillermo Diaz, Christopher Knight, Eve Plumb, Shannen Doherty, Traci Lords, Beverly D’Angelo, Rose McGowan and others—who each bring their own pinch of flavor to the glittery apocalypse. And in true Araki style, this film is a kaleidoscope of stunning set designs that would make Warhol swoon. Bedrooms covered with Babyland lyrics, formidable murals, Twister dots and swimming pools bobbing with chromatic orbs all make this tragic world a feast for the eyes.

In its cool, stylized and (at times) over-the-top approach, Araki addresses the defining issues that haunted ‘90s America. Homophobia, suicide, drug addiction, AIDS and the rise of enigmatic televangelists and politicians screaming redemption through fuzzy TV screens make this trilogy feel eerily relevant today. At its heart, the series explores loneliness and the search for meaning, love and understanding, with James Duval’s tender characters serving as the thread that connects each film. He leads us, begrudging yet hopeful, toward the explosive conclusion.

And music is as much a beloved character as anyone in this trilogy. As with all Araki films before and since, his soundtracks are a shoegaze fan’s paradise. Each is packed with classics by bands like Ride, Lush, Slowdive, Catherine Wheel, Cocteau Twins, The Verve, The Jesus and Mary Chain, and so many 4AD showstoppers that the label could practically sponsor the trilogy (or at least release a box set of their own…hint, hint).

The Criterion Collection has truly outdone itself with this box set, featuring 4K restorations for The Doom Generation and Nowhere from 35mm negatives, along with a 2K version of Totally F****d Up from 16mm negatives. And of course, there’s a wealth of special features to explore. Audio commentary with Araki and cast, Q&As, a video comic book, and a documentary on the films’ visual style are just a few standout goodies. After waiting nearly three decades for these films to be made more accessible, Criterion and Araki clearly understood the assignment and delivered flawlessly, giving us these three films that are as timeless as teenage angst itself.

(https://www.criterion.com/boxsets/7581-gregg-araki-s-teen-apocalypse-trilogy)