Media and Music: The Pensive Sounds of “The Perks of Being a Wallflower”
Dear friend, this is Charlie’s life and the music that accompanies him as he grows and blooms. Emotional ballads and dance anthems — those are just a couple of its perks.
Written by Myah Taylor
Photos courtesy of Summit Entertainment
Content warning: This article contains discussions of sexual assault, depression, and suicide.
Based on Stephen Chbosky’s 1999 epistolary novel of the same name, the 2012 quintessential coming-of-age film “The Perks of Being a Wallflower” doesn’t lend itself to idealism — at least not at first. The tale, set from 1991-1992, depicts a journey of personal growth scored by ‘70s, ‘80s, and ‘90s, songs immaculately tailored for all the ups and downs of adolescence, as well as recovery from trauma.
The film begins with protagonist Charlie (the wallflower in question) sharing his anxieties about his first day of high school, an experience he has not bought into. Coping with the loss of his best friend Michael, who died by suicide, as well as his own depression and loneliness, he sees no romanticism in the halls he’ll walk for the so-called ‘best four years of a person’s life.’
Timid, clumsy-sounding acoustic guitars open up The Samples’ “Could It Be Another Change,” a jamband-type song that plays over shots of the famous Fort Pitt Tunnel and fades into an echo as Charlie pens his first of many letters to an unidentified friend, the one someone told him “would listen and understand.” The Samples lead singer Sean Kelly delivers a Dave Matthews-esque croon in the inaugural verse as he sings, “The only time I feel good falling / Is when I’m falling fast and hard for you.” Along with heartwarming lyrics that detail caring for another person, the understated, reggae-influenced instrumentation — with plucky guitar, keyboards, and organic drum beats — embodies the quiet and unassuming Charlie’s deep desire for companionship. The singer comes to a revelation in the melodious bridge, which holds words of wisdom that are integral not only to Charlie’s story, but to several of the other characters’ in the film: “You can’t love nothing, you can’t love anything / ‘Til you can love yourself.”
And so Charlie’s progression to self-acceptance begins, but it’s rocky at first; he’s made no friends yet. Drowning in desperation, the freshman reads alone in his dimly lit room, listening to The Smiths’ “Asleep,” a dark lullaby that sums up his own melancholy and becomes his favorite song. Lead singer Morrissey’s coos of, “Sing me to sleep / Sing me to sleep / I’m tired and I / I want to go to bed” also overlay scenes of Charlie taking medication for his depression, navigating a bustling cafeteria, and eating his lunch in solitude. The pianos anchoring the song are deliberate and just as blue as the lyrical content.
Stepsiblings Sam and Patrick answer Charlie’s internal cry for help when they meet him at a football game. The buzzing guitars of Sonic Youth’s “Teen Age Riot” blast through the seniors’ car speakers as they drop Charlie off following a post-game diner run, and Charlie joins the duo on the night of the homecoming dance soon afterward. It’s then when he comes alive.
Leaning against the wall of his high school gym, Charlie watches Sam and Patrick erupt on the dancefloor as Dexys Midnight Runners’ “Come on Eileen” permeates the space. “Oh my God, they’re playing good music,” Sam says once she hears the Celtic fiddle and drum beat that open the track. Once the full arrangement kicks in, she and Patrick dance feverishly to their own choreography in the center of the crowd. The “Come on Eileen, tah-loo-rye-aye” chants and slowed, but building drums in the bridge pull Charlie out from the shadows and spur him to join in on the fun, mesmerized by Sam and the color of the moment.
But the night is still young at that point. After the trio leaves the dance, Cracker’s “Low” welcomes Charlie to his first high school party, with lyrics about getting stoned capturing the energy of the rowdy teens. The grungy guitars swirl as Charlie accepts a brownie which, unbeknownst to him, is laced with pot. In that dingy living room, the freshman gets high for the first time and experiences an acceptance that, until that point, was foreign to him. Raising a toast to Charlie, Patrick delivers the famous quote, “You see things. And you understand. You’re a wallflower.”
The trio then heads for the tunnel, where Charlie feels on top of the world while listening to a new song none of them can identify. David Bowie’s “Heroes,” with its triumphant guitars and emotive singing, sets the perfect tone for this weightless joyride. Sam stands in the back of Patrick’s pickup and outstretches her arms. She looks as if she’s floating, her ruffled dress blowing in the breeze and her face illuminated by the tunnel lights. As Bowie sings, “We could be heroes,” Charlie fixates on Sam as he realizes two things: he’s in love, and he feels “infinite.” The three zip along the highway in a blur, Bowie’s voice and the kick drum fading out.
Once the holidays come around, Charlie begins to “get bad again,” as he recalls memories of his Aunt Helen, who died on Christmas Eve while getting him a birthday gift. Filled with guilt over Helen’s death and longing for the unavailable Sam, Charlie spirals on New Year’s after taking LSD. A somber, piano-led instrumental backs shots of his disorientation and flashbacks of his repressed memories. Fuzzy whole notes extend as he makes snow angels and stares blankly at the sky.
Things look up for the freshman when he fills in for Patrick to perform a rendition of “Toucha Toucha Touch Me” in a production of the “Rocky Horror Picture Show.” After this performance, Charlie catches the eye of Mary Elizabeth, a member of Sam and Patrick’s friend group. L7’s “Pretend We’re Dead” and its discordant guitars soundtrack the montage of their one-sided relationship — he’s really in love with Sam. The track is rough around the edges, much like Mary Elizabeth who contrasts her sensitive beau. One night, a game of truth or dare upends his relationship with both women and the whole group. Too honest for his own good, Charlie accepts Patrick’s dare to kiss the prettiest girl in the room; he doesn’t lock lips with Mary Elizabeth, embracing Sam instead.
An airy, fragmented instrumental returns during the period when Charlie reels over a weeks-long hiatus from his friends, and Patrick wavers over a troubled relationship with his boyfriend Brad, who hasn’t publicly come out. The low hums sum up their shared misery.
Cocteau Twins’ “Pearly-Dewdrops’ Drop” is a sweet reverie that plays as the seniors bask in the last days of high school and run up the football stadium’s bleachers to celebrate this milestone. It’s a dreamy lull before Charlie has a breakdown after Sam’s going-away party. Sad, jarring violins, interrupted by simple piano notes, play as he watches her depart for college and recounts the sexual abuse he experienced as a child. The tones emphasize his deep-rooted pain, ringing over flashbacks of Aunt Helen, his abuser, as well as scenes of him becoming overwhelmed with shame and guilt over all that has happened to him.
Scaling, sensitive guitars fade in as Charlie, who has been hospitalized, speaks with a doctor about his suffering and comes to accept that none of it is his fault. The delicate plucks make the moments when Charlie embraces his parents and spends time playing cards with his siblings particularly moving, even tear-jerking.
After “some very bad days” and “some unexpected beautiful days,” Sam and Patrick welcome Charlie home from the hospital and take him to their special place: the tunnel. Sam has found the song, “Heroes,” none of them could name on homecoming night. Vowing to participate more in life, Charlie delivers profound words in his inner monologue: “I can see it. This one moment when you know you’re not a sad story. You are alive.”
Standing in the back of Patrick’s pickup, arms extended out like Sam’s once were, Charlie watches the tunnel lights blur by as the wind ruffles his hair to the sound of the soaring guitars in the “Heroes” intro.
Partially based on Charlie’s self-curated mixtape in the novel, the music in “Perks” is handpicked just for the wallflower. Its songs put words and images to his spectrum of emotions, helping move the story along in a way that people can understand and relate to.
As the film’s credits roll and Bowie passionately sings, “Though nothing will drive them away / We can be heroes, just for one day,” the music says everything Charlie doesn’t have to: He is transcendent. He is infinite.