Based on Daniel Clowes’s cult underground comic book of the same name (Clowes and Zwigoff collaborated together on the screenplay), Ghost World is one of the most clever comic book adaptations I’ve ever seen. It’s a film that is able to accurately capture that peculiar and pivotal summer after high school graduation and before the real world in a style that’s fully immersed in the detailed atmosphere of the comic book realm.

      Ghost World follows two girls -- Enid and Rebecca -- who have just graduated from high school, where they no doubt spent their days coldly doling out scathing cynicisms to anyone unfortunate enough to be in earshot. Needless to say, they spend their time grieving over all the ironies life has and will bring to them. Enid, the more angst-ridden of the two (played remarkably well by American Beauty’s Thora Birch) walks through town with her scrapbook, sketching twisted images of people through her imaginative yet caustic eyes. Rebecca (Scarlett Johansson) is slightly more grounded, eager to move into her own apartment and get a job at a Coffee shop, even if she has to deal with all the “sickos and creeps” on a daily basis.

      Their lives are inexplicably changed forever when they decide to play a cruel joke on a guy who has placed a sweet yet “pathetic” ad in the personals. His name is Seymour (Steve Buscemi), a geeky misanthrope and eccentric blues aficionado, whose collection of old blues 78s is a source of fascination to the girls. Especially for Enid, who sees something uniquely different about him than the rest of the culturally wilting town she lives in. Their complex relationship eventually becomes the focus of the film, though using the word focus does no justice to Ghost World.

      Zwigoff is no stranger to covering cult comics, directing the brilliant 1994 documentary Crumb, about fascinating underground comic book artist R. Crumb (in fact, the beautiful artwork found in Enid’s sketchbook was done by Crumb’s daughter). In Ghost World, the colorfully decaying world Clowes created in his comic book is wonderfully brought to life. There is a cluttered architecture to the neighborhoods and a claustrophobia to the environment, as if it were torn right out of a page of a comic. The pace is sometimes eerily subdued, and the camera seems to wander around to random areas. Minor things always turn up, like televisions tuned to strange programs, or flattened blue jeans laying on the street for no apparent reason. Even some of the characters’ names have typical comic origin, like Snotty Girl, Mr. Satanist, Weird Al, Hippy Boy. Much of it is subtle, and a testament to just how keen Zwigoff’s direction is.

      The film uses its sense of irony in hilarious ways, from a scene detailing the evolution of the “Coon Chicken” franchise (now called “Cooks Chicken”), to Seymour visiting a blues bar where the main act is a band called “Blueshammer,” whose authentic “coming straight from the Delta” style is more Guns ‘n Roses than Skip James. There’s even a 1950s-style diner called “Wowsville,” which has such authentic jukebox selections as “Master P.” It’s meant to be an indictment of the phoniness of modern day America, where strip malls and coffee shops have come to define our culturally deteriorating landscape. Zwigoff juxtaposes these images with the alternate universe of Seymour’s, with his rich collection of 78s and eclectic collection of American artwork.

      Though -- like most teens -- Enid doesn’t really know what it is she’s looking for, she yearns for something authentic, something she can connect with amidst the “modern monoculture” of life, as Zwigoff describes it. Like her fading friendship with Rebecca, Enid has grown slowly, painfully apart from her surroundings, to the point where she realizes she no longer has anything in common with it. It is a stinging reality that resonates deeply in Ghost World, and makes it one of the most intriguing films to come out this year.

Stephen Wong, 2001