Riverdale: Talkin’ ‘Bout My Generation
(Episode 1.06)
Diyah Pera/The CW
Riverdale loves history and pop culture, and sees the two as inextricably entwined. From the way these characters interact, often relying on pop culture references to get their point across, to the way the murder of Jason Blossom (Trevor Stines) is used to dig into the town’s past, this is a show that’s very much interested in the way history informs the present, and the way cultural artifacts shape our understanding of times both past and present. Archie (K.J. Apa) may recognize that his relationship with Val (Hayley Law) comes close to “breaking up the Beatles,” but he also doesn’t have a clue what his father is talking about when he mentions Dylan going electric. We’re all confident we have a grasp of our place and time, but such confidence can’t exactly hide our blindspots.
I mention Riverdale’s focus on history and pop culture at the top here because “Chapter Six: Faster, Pussycats! Kill! Kill!” is perhaps the series’ most clever look at the way the past interacts with the present. That’s not just evident in the episode’s title, referencing Russ Meyer’s 1965 gender role-challenging exploitation classic, or in Josie’s (Ashleigh Murray) evocation of the specter of Donna Summer to capture her feelings of emotional listlessness; it’s also evident in the way the folks of Riverdale seem sharply divided along generational lines. Much of the first season has seen tension between the questions and curiosities of the town’s teenage heartthrobs and the more firm, cold stances of the town’s adult heartthrobs, but “Faster, Pussycats! Kill! Kill!” really takes it to another level.
The most obvious (and insightful) way to examine how Riverdale explores the generational divide is to look at the relationships betweens the kids of Riverdale and their parents. This is an episode that’s all about the way the dynamic shifts as kids get older, a process arguably expedited by the speed with which this new generation is being forced to grow up. I mean, in the span of just six episodes, Archie is forced to reckon with the very adult process of grieving a lost love—who may have manipulated him sexually (and illegally)—while also navigating the very childlike notion of stage fright. Though Archie’s musical hopes and dreams are the show’s weakest link by far, a hollow, dissonant note in an otherwise perfectly crafted, neon-tinged soundscape, the show does a good job of using that story to demonstrate that while these kids might talk and boast killer bodies beyond their years, they’re also, well, kids, complete with all sorts of insecurities and self-destructive patterns of behavior.