There are many ways to describe a film and its intentions, and we often find that it comes in the most unexpected forms on occasion. When it comes to describing a certain subset of films, we can look at some crude graffiti found on a wall in Marseille, France, which quite simply said “be gay, do crime”, a sentiment as simple as it is delightfully vulgar. It has spurred a small canon of artistic works that have been labelled under the collective idea of radical queerness intersecting with criminal activity as a kind of rebellion against social norms, which is one area that still tends to be quite exciting when it comes to philosophical and social commentary. One of the defining entries into this sub-genre is Gregg Araki’s masterful The Doom Generation, the second part of his loosely-constructed Teen Apocalypse Trilogy (straddled on either end by Totally F****d Up and Nowhere), and which is, in many ways, the most outrageous of the three, at least in terms of overall subject matter. The film, which is set in the same loosely-structured wasteland, centres around Amy Blue and Jordan, two foul-mouthed teenagers seeking the thrills of reckless youth, which they hope to find on an expansive cross-country road trip. Along the way, they encounter Xavier, a similarly demented young man who immediately latches onto the pair, choosing to accompany them as they storm through the country, leaving a path of destruction in their way, all in pursuit of some kind of unattainable pleasures. A film that blends Araki’s distinctive appetite for destruction with a story that touches on much deeper themes that are far more profound than many people may realise, The Doom Generation presents itself as quite an intimidating but compelling achievement, a film that knows how to get under the audience’s skin without becoming too heavy-handed or unnecessarily scattered, proof of Araki’s extraordinary directorial prowess and his ability to challenge and provoke while still creating something surprisingly cohesive, which is one of the many reasons this film has proven to be one of the most celebrated to emerge out of this era of queer-based storytelling that reached its peak during this period.

Queer cinema can be broken down into several key moments, each one having a few defining elements that help us situate not only the social and cultural perspective that dominated at the time, but also allow us to see the gradual development of certain ideas, with the industry slowly becoming more comfortable telling certain stories. The Doom Generation is not the first example of a queer film built around the idea of presenting slightly more controversial characters as the protagonists (and it owes quite a bit to the work done by John Waters, an early forerunner for Araki and someone whose Female Trouble feels like a spiritual predecessor to this film), but it dares to peer beyond the surface, looking at queerness as something that doesn’t always need to be portrayed sympathetically. To be clear, the film is very secure in its identity, while still being quite fluid – the director even marketed as a “heterosexual film”, which is surprising considering this is a film squarely built on the subject of bisexuality, with all three of the anti-heroes that anchor the film being quite flexible with their identities, which is where some of the most interesting observations are made. The structure is very simple, with so much of the film just being about three malcontents with a penchant for violence and a craving for chaos trying to take over the world on their own terms, even if it means constantly waltzing on the razor-thin edge of immorality. If anything, the fact that they are constantly so close to having to face the consequences of their actions factors heavily into the plot, since so much of the film is about how they evade being caught by the skin of their teeth, which makes for a surprisingly captivating dark comedy. It does help that a lot is going on beneath the surface as well, with the film being as much about a trio of reckless teens causing trouble as it is an investigation into identity, desire and the existential malaise that was affecting the youth at the time, which are all core themes in Araki’s trilogy, and something that is brilliantly personified by this delightfully offbeat film.

One of the more interesting aspects of exploring independent films made in previous decades is seeing the wide array of actors that tend to be cast in these films, since we find that some of them go on to be major stars, while others instead build more eclectic and unconventional careers. In both cases, there is a lot of validity to celebrating the efforts of these young performers, since they’re often doing uniformly terrific work that helps anchor the stories. The Doom Generation is centred around a trio of actors, none of whom were newcomers but were certainly not as prominent as some of their peers, which allowed Araki to be slightly more flexible in how he constructed these characters around the actors’ unique gifts. Rose McGowan is perhaps the most prominent of the three, both before this film and in the aftermath – and as someone with incredible screen presence and the kind of unforgettable charisma that we don’t come across often, it’s not a surprise that she commands the film, being by far the most interesting performance. Sly and deceptive, but also effortlessly compelling, McGowan brings so much distinctive energy to a film that thrives on its unique approach to the subject matter. However, her co-leads are not too far behind, since they’re both also very good – James Duval (who had previously had his breakthrough under Araki’s direction in Totally F*****d Up a year before) and Johnathon Schaech are fantastic at playing into the parts of these air-headed, overly masculine characters who find themselves questioning their identity, realising that there is much more fluidity within them than they initially realised. The cast is exceptionally good, especially since they showcase a sincere willingness to embrace what Araki asks them to do, showing no hesitation to work closely with the director to create an image of these complex characters as they attempt to navigate a strange and confusing world, one that doesn’t always make sense to them, but certainly is not made any easier by their presence, an interesting aspect that this film explores in extensive detail through creating such vibrant, captivating protagonists who may not be the most moral, but are certainly fascinating in their own way. 

Araki has always stood as something of a visionary, at least in terms of how he chooses to approach his subjects, which are not always easy to explore on screen. Unlike some of his peers in this particular era of queer filmmaking, he was not so focused on story so much as he was atmosphere, and most of his films tend to be driven primarily by mood, much more than they are by narrative elements. This is very much the case with The Doom Generation and the two films that exist on either side of it in this trilogy, since these are all works that rely on the viewer being able to subscribe to the ideas that he is placing down without needing to be given an explanation for absolutely everything. It does help that he is a director with a clear vision and a very specific stylistic flair, the kind that draws the audience in, even if we often don’t quite understand what some of the film represents. The Doom Generation is filled with symbolism, both in the visual cues and the dialogue, both of which interweave with one another to become effortlessly compelling explorations of the human condition through a more revolutionary lens. It can sometimes feel quite scattered, but its intentions are nothing if not admirable – this is a film about a group of people who exist on the margins of society, but rather than being exiled there by others, they’ve chosen to take up residence on the fringes of decency through their decision to embrace chaos, and the film perfectly represents the madness of their lives. It’s very allegorical and can often be quite confusing, but it all feels entirely purposeful, almost as if it is trying to take place in an alternate version of reality. We know there is some truth to this, since the trilogy has been noted as being one that revolves around some metaphorical apocalypse (and the visual elements of this film, such as how Araki constructs the environments in which these characters exist, certainly support this), one in which nothing quite makes sense, and everything is slightly off-kilter in a way that is nothing if not entirely charming in its unconventional nature. It’s exceptionally well-directed, Araki employing the same renegade ambition that has always guided his work, turning The Doom Generation into a far more captivating work than we may have thought it would be at a glance.

More than three decades after its release, The Doom Generation remains one of the defining works of the New Queer Cinema movement, and proves to be a film that outright refuses to conform to conventional expectations of either queer representation or independent filmmaking as a whole. Rather than telling a story about characters seeking acceptance or sympathy, Araki chooses to embrace chaos and contradiction, crafting a film that relishes in its moral ambiguity and feels deliberately confrontational while still having a significant amount of thematic depth. What initially appears to be a nihilistic road movie about reckless teenagers indulging their worst impulses gradually reveals itself to be a far richer exploration of identity, desire, alienation and the anxieties of a generation searching for meaning in a world that feels detached from reality. The director’s willingness to blur the line between satire, social commentary and sheer provocation ensures that the film remains constantly engaging, even at its most bizarre and uncomfortable. Defined by a trio of exceptional performances, as well as the director’s unmistakable visual style, the film succeeds because it fully commits to its uncompromising vision. The surreal atmosphere, apocalyptic undertones and deliberately exhilarating world-building create an experience that often feels less like a traditional narrative and more like a nightmarish vision come to life. The abrasive sensibilities and fragmented structure may make The Doom Generation more divisive amongst some viewers, but for those willing to surrender themselves to its unique perspective will discover a film that is remarkably intelligent and brimming with personality. Bold, unsettling and darkly funny, this is an endlessly entertaining film that endures not only as a cult classic, but also as one of the most fascinating and accomplished films in the career of a true artistic iconoclast, and someone we should be appreciating far more as the very definition of a counterculture revolutionary.