It Just Doesn’t Matter

At the dawn of the eighties, I was a little kid trying to deal with divorced parents, being crappy at sports, and the overwhelming feeling of not fitting in. My grandma was the first person I knew with cable, and since I was addicted to movies, I watched a few things that I was probably too young to fully understand, but which I still love to this day: Foxes, Foul Play, Heaven Can Wait, and Meatballs.

I’d never been to summer camp at that point, but growing up in the miserably sticky south, it sure seemed glamorous. And everyone seemed to be having a great time, even though the North Star counselors and campers weren’t as privileged or good-looking as the snobs at Camp Mohawk.

“You must be the short, depressed kid we ordered.”

The character of Rudy Gerner was dealing with the same problems I was. Even though I liked Rudy a lot, when you’re a little kid you don’t always identify with other kids triumphing over adversity. You tend to focus on older characters that you can admire. And so it was with Bill Murray as Tripper.

Tripper seemed so real. He had the same sarcastic, goofy sense of humor as my dad, and he was so charming that I developed an instant crush on him. Never mind that he wasn’t as classically handsome as dudes like Rick Springfield (who I also crushed on around the same time). It was his wit, his willingness to look stupid, and maybe even the fact that he wore boxer shorts with cowboy boots to a basketball game.

Roxanne, the object of his affections, seemed like the cool older sister that I never had; she was cute and kind and didn’t put up with Tripper’s outlandish behavior (even though she secretly loved it). The other counselors—A.L., Spaz, Fink, Jackie—were sweet and hapless and much nicer than the older kids I knew.

“Roxanne, I have what doctors call very active glands.”

When Tripper launches into his hysterical, stream-of-consciousness rant about winning and losing, it’s genuinely funny. But the “it just doesn’t matter” mantra has a ring of truth to it. When you’re a pre-teen outcast, the miseries of not being popular or getting picked last at softball can define your entire world. It matters because dealing with that as a kid can affect what kind of adult you become later. But it doesn’t have to define you.

Meatballs came out at the end of the seventies, when movies like Breaking Away were still being made and before teen sex comedies like Porky’s would take over the box office. And thus it represents a more innocent time, not just because it’s about youth and fun and summer camp, but because of the whole idea that you don’t have to be perfect to be a success, or more importantly, a good person. You just have to be you.

Less Lee Moore, Managing Editor

Check out Popshifter‘s Are You Ready For The Summer?— our tribute to the season.

And for lots of interviews, show reviews, record reviews, and fantastic features, check out the rest of our July/August 2008 Issue.