Under The Influence: Coming of Age in the Mid90s

I grew up in a dominantly male household. There was my mother, my father, my older brother, and myself. My mother's only female companion was our cat, but she was too erratic to depend on. On top of that, our house was a go-to hangout for my brother's friends who were, unsurprisingly, other boys — young, annoying, hockey-playing boys. My mother was a real one for the amount of literal shit she put up with.

When I watched Jonah Hill's directorial debut, Mid90s, it felt like looking in a mirror. Replace skateboarding with hockey and California with British Columbia, and the story of Stevie (Sunny Suljic) becomes my story. We both feared and admired our older brother, and we both felt a sense of curiosity in older kids. That's why, when I saw the Peliplat coming-of-age on screen writing contest, my mind immediately went to the parallels between my upbringing during the 1990s and this A24 classic.

The most impactful difference between my story and that of Stevie is his lack of a father figure. When I think back to my childhood, I think of how much authority my father had over myself, my brother, and our visiting friends. My dad was a physically big person, with a deep voice and an intimidating silhouette. More than one friend who walked through our doors left with tears in their eyes, simply out of fear. Although this may not have created an environment of empathy, it did create a house of order. This was a point of great resentment for me and my brother growing up, but, in hindsight, it strengthened our resolve and kept us aligned during the years where everything wanted to lead us astray. It was a Machiavellian upbringing where fear was much stronger than love.

The silent omission of a father incredibly impacts how Stevie is raised. It puts his older brother, Ian (Lucas Hedges), in a difficult position. As the de facto patriarch in his family, Ian naturally feels a desire to guide Stevie. However, Ian lacks the emotional maturity to properly support his younger brother. Instead of taking Stevie under his wing, Ian chooses to alienate him. He tries to control him with an iron fist, choosing to undermine Stevie's decisions rather than support his choices or lead by example. Ian loses all control over him when Stevie sees his older brother show weakness in the face of adversity. After that, there really is nobody guiding young Stevie other than his skater pals.

I related to the relationship between Stevie and Ian, as it was familiar to the relationship I had with my brother. The opening shot, where Stevie is tossed into the hallway, pounced on by Ian, and punched mercilessly, was all too real. A boys' house is a violent house, and my father had one rule: if anyone cried, everyone goes home. As the youngster always hanging out with my brother and his friends, you can imagine who the crier was. As we wrestled (it's the 90s), played hockey, had water-balloon fights, I was always out muscled, out skilled, out maneuvered. In my youth, like Stevie, I often struggled to subdue my emotions. Boiling points were reached quickly and often. It was only when the tears started flowing that my brother and his friends would treat me nicely, if only to quiet my cries so that my father wouldn't find out and shut down the hangout.

Although it was a physically taxing upbringing, I also greatly admired my brother. In my eyes, he was the coolest person in the universe. I identified with the scene in Mid90s where Stevie sneaks into his brother's room. I too would sneak into my brother's room when he was out to study his world. What clothes did he have; what magazines was he reading. His room was a forbidden zone, and one that held answers regarding what my future would hold. Like Stevie, I was infatuated with the music that my older brother listened to. I had no taste myself; everything was mimicked by what older kids, like my brother, would consume. In the 90s, it was albums like All Eyez on Me and The Slim Shady LP. There was always something new to learn in my brother's room. However, if I got caught snooping around, there would be hell to pay.

Outside of the nuclear family, I was heavily influenced by my brother's friends. Hanging out with older kids felt like an exclusive club full of enticing knowledge. I would spend my weekend with these teens and then return to grade school on Monday with all sorts of new insight on the ways of the world. I understood how Stevie felt when he started to hang out with Fuckshit (Olan Prenatt), Ray (Na-Kel Smith), and the other kids at the Motor Avenue Skateshop. It's an intoxicating experience, spending time with older kids. It's also a quiet existence. The less you say, the more likely the older kids are to forget you're there, and the more they'll talk candidly. When that happens, that's when real information starts to flow — who had started smoking weed; who was the drunkest at the house party; who lost their virginity. It was grade-school gossip, but it was also insight into what to expect in the years ahead.

Still, friends are fluid and older brothers grow up. Eventually, you are left only with yourself — the last frontier. When you can no longer look to anyone for influence, you must start making decisions and create a personality of your own. This is the one aspect that is missing from Mid90s. Stevie is never left to make his own decisions. The movie ends before we see him grow up and become his own person. He's left as an amalgamation of Ian, Fuckshit, and Ray.

For me, this frontier was faced when my brother graduated high school and moved away for university, leaving me to live alone at home with my parents. The house fell silent. Older kids stopped coming around, and I was left to pick up the pieces. Previously, I never had to go out and find a friend group, because my house was always busy with my brother and his friends. If I was quiet and cool and didn't cry, I could hang out, but now I was left to my own devices and I had to quickly develop my own personality. If Stevie were allowed to do the same, what kind of person would he become? Would skateboarding and rap still be his favourite things, or were those only enticing because they represented the people that he looked up to?

My coming of age had less to do with who I am and more with how I was influenced by my surroundings. Like Stevie, I was a chameleonic sponge. I observed and absorbed everything, and these influences crafted the person I am today. Not everything was sunshine and kickbacks. It was through the difficult experiences that I grew the most. I wonder how the rest of Stevie's story would carry out. Would he continue to skateboard? Would he reconcile his relationship with Ian? What ever became of his father? Like most coming-of-age stories, Stevie's arc in Mid90s is not conclusive. Instead, it's a prelude to the rest of his life.