In one sense, 21 Jump Street is retelling of The Prince and the Pauper wherein economic disparities are replaced by the gulf between the socially admired and the socially anemic. Truthfully, I was expecting little from the large-screen adaptation of the 1980’s television series about undercover police officers who infiltrate reprobate-filled highschools. However, this film is less longer version of a serial and more a comedic reimagining. Instead of Johnny Depp and Richard Grieco (though both make appearances toward the end of this film in a rather welcomed surprise cameos) we’re given Jonah Hill and Channing Tatum, cast as the former loser and most popular students in their high school graduating class. A coincidential encounter at the police academy sparks a friendship in which Schmidt’s (Hill) brains aide Jenko’s test-taking skills, and Jenko’s (Tatum) physical acumen helps foster Schmidt’s frightened demeanor and lack of athleticism.
However, their dreams of chasing down perps and getting caught in random crossfires become Sartric nightmares when they are relegated to biking around parks and bays, retrieving Frisbees, and futilely prohibiting juveniles from littering. They nearly transcend from this monotonous hell when they stumble upon the One-Percenters, a radical biker group who smoke pot in public and peddle bags of cocaine and other drugs. Unfortunately, they fail to correctly read their suspect his Miranda Rights, substituting, “you have the right to remain under arrest, mother fucker” as they pantomime random puerilities and acts of defection.
Clearly, the police captain would prefer them to be anywhere but in his precinct; thus, they are sent to a special undercover unit that convenes at “Jump Street. 21 Jump Street.” Here, the television series and the film converge on premise: Schmidt and Jenko pose as high school students to bust the distributors and suppliers of a new synthetic drugs with hilarious yet fatal effects.
However, this version of Jump Street becomes a bit more about social hierarchy and anachronism than about weaving moralistic tales prohibiting criminality and drug use. Whereas Jenko was the uber-senior in the mid-nineties / late aughts (honestly, the arithmetic of years doesn’t really add up in this film, but it’s a pretty venial sin), his crass arrogance and verbal diarrhea makes him an outcast in 2012. In contrast, Schmidt’s concern for the environment and intelligence that puts him toward the top of the class limns a popular caricature of the undercover officer. For the first time, Schmidt gets to be the popular senior with a date to prom, whereas Jenko is relegated to hanging out with the chemistry geeks.
Slight tangent: This is a part of 21 Jump Street that is a bit askew in that all of the social positions are inverted except for the super geeks. For some reason, they’re too smart to be popular, though they will probably end up competing for spots at UC Berkeley much like Schmidt and Eric Molson (Dave Franco), the initial smarmy villain cum rube. Despite their academic success, their diminutive stature keeps them relegated to left overs of the social stratum. Truthfully, this seems to be the only difference between them and the other geniuses. But, I digress.
Schmidt and Jenko’s relationship is taxed and they have to come to grips with the new positions – Schmidt’s heightened ego and Jenko’s damaged one – while also staying focused on their task at hand: catching the bad guys. Throughout, this film is rather funny and cleverly written. It hardly veers into silliness – except for scene that involves Schmidt in the lead role of his school’s play, Peter Pan. There are still funny moments here and a purpose for the rumble that ensues (the primary rule that undercovers must abide by is to avoid being expelled, but…), but it seems that this same plot point could have been included in a more subtle way that coincided with the semi-serious tone that echoes underneath the moments in the rest of the film.
The most profound statement made in this film is the anachronistic discrepancy between the present and the eighties. In the eighties – at least on television — the onus was on the environment and racial issues. Which causes which? Were poor decisions bred through the environment that squashes financial mobility, or did the introduction of poorer classes breed a dangerous environment? However, this film indicts the shift from collectivism to individualism. The wealthy assume the upper class, but the inherent money allows them privilege. The catch here is that money and privilege replace character, becoming superficial tags on which the most importance is placed. Therefore, family dynamics suffer because of the need to perpetuate the ownership of such tags. This rhetoric is most prevalent in the aforementioned villain, Molson, whose sprawling house is the product of his parents’ earnings, but also a symbol of their absence.
In fact, with the exception of Schmidt’s parents, there are none to be seen, and the adults that surround Schmidt and Jenko are nearly as pubescent as the juniors and seniors that our protagonists align themselves with. Jenko’s chemistry teacher, Ms. Griggs (Ellie Kemper) inappropriately hits on Jenko in each scene they share (she too is unaware that Jenko is undercover). While Kemper’s timing is stellar, the scenario is rather creepy – as is the gym teacher Mr. Walters (Rob Riggle) for a variety of reasons.
Like Ted, 21 Jump Street examines the perpetual adult child but adds another layer by looking at the dysfunction that wells within the progeny of privilege and superficiality.
