Degrassi operates under the casually cool assumption that you’ve already been there and done that (or will), and that high school isn’t glamorous or pre-packaged with a laugh track. Some of the show’s stars are attractive, yet no one is the type of knockout that would be first choice for a glossy magazine. Most are pimple-faced and gangly, with an unfortunate fashion sense brilliantly projected by the show’s stylists. Plus, these relative unknowns are actually playing characters their own age.
The show embraces the high highs and low lows of the collective teenage unconscious, a period in life where you’re constantly wondering why life sucks. It revolves around characters with problems — lots of them, enough to keep a guidance counselor busy long past 3 pm. Goody-goody Emma gives shady Jay a blow job, and he gives her gonorrhea. Ellie slices her wrists with the same protractor she uses to do geometry homework. Gavin, a/k/a Spinner, morphs from princess cheerleader Paige’s heartthrob boy toy into an almost friendless hardcore bully and goes on to frame former best friend Jimmy, who gets shot in the back and paralyzed for life. Episodes usually end with a cut to one character’s face as he or she contends with the realization that things aren’t going to get wrapped up neatly by the end of the half-hour.
South of Nowhere, created by Thomas W. Lynch, is an original series that follows Degrassi at 8:30 and is in a similar mold. The show, now in its second season, is even more sex-centric than Degrassi — hedonistic entertainment that lacks moral messaging, though it makes up for that by dealing with one girl’s sexual-identity crisis, whereas most televised gay teens tend to be boys. On this season’s debut episode, 16-year-old Spencer wakes up in someone else’s bed with a huge question answered: she’s gay, best friend Ashley is gay, and they’ve finally hooked up, but her love life is more complicated than ever. In the meantime, her mother is cheating on her father, her adopted black brother is searching for his birth mother, and the savvy Los Angeles kids at her school aren’t going to go any easier on her for being a lesbian just because she’s skinny and blonde. South of Nowhere could be mistaken for an Aaron Spelling production thanks to the sparkle of its beautiful cast. Underneath, however, the drama is serrated: trenchant, natural dialogue, unconventional indie-film camerawork, and subtly racy story lines that pull the rug out from under aging Carrie Bradshaw and company.
