Dare to Cheer For This Show: Dare Me is Too Dark

Cheerleaders with deep, dark secrets. Friends that are sometimes besties and sometimes frenemies. A growing attraction to a coach. Families that are so fraught with dysfunction, it’s no wonder their children act monstrous.  And eventually, a murder that results in lots of double-crossing and even more secrets.

Sound interesting? It’s the plot of the 1998 cult-hit Wild Things, which starred Denise Richards, Neve Campbell, Matt Dillon, and Kevin Bacon.

It’s also the basic premise of USA’s Dare Me, a flawed though somewhat addicting drama that adds a whole lot of Wild Things with a few dashes of How to Get Away with Murder, one cup of Big Little Lies, a tablespoon of 13 Reasons Why and a pinch of Glee and blends them into a smoothie of a noir-styled drama that so far doesn’t seem very original, certainly isn’t fun enough to watch, and doesn’t seem to be a show viewers have been given many reasons to care about.

Based on the young adult novel by Megan Abbott, the new USA drama follows the now clichéd trope of exposing “small town” secrets that we’ve seen time and time again since Twin Peaks. As always, teens are causing trouble. (Cue “Trouble” from The Music Man). The opening narration (every episode begins with Greys Anatomy-esque narration) hauntingly declares: “There’s something dangerous about the boredom of teenage girls” and warns us that “Coach believed in us” until “it went too far.”

There are no ghosts or supernatural creatures here, but these girls are haunted. The actions of the characters past and present—and the secrets of the families in the towns—drive the plot forward and the teenagers to a seemingly-doomed scenario.  The show tries to stay true to the narration of the book, which is told from Addy’s perspective. Much like the main character, Starr, from The Hate U Give, she has to navigate a more successful home life with a crazier life at school, even when the antics of her friends seem unusual to her. She (somewhat) wants to succeed as a cheerleader and do well in school. In the pilot episode she utters one of the only positive lines of the show: “if you work hard enough and get strong enough, you rise.” But her optimistic outlook is challenged in this town as competition and angst from her friends and enemies become too great.

Like the novel it’s based on, the show follows two best friends, Addy Hanlon (Herizen Guardiola) and Beth Cassidy (Marlo Kelly) as they navigate the oft-dangerous world of being a teenage girl in a small Midwestern town. They claim cheerleading is important to them, although mostly they attend parties and do drugs and search for seemingly random hook-ups.  When a new cheerleading coach comes in to help their squad achieve a dream of regionals or (gasp) a state cheerleading victory, Addy immediately accepts the change and power shift that will come with working with a new “ancient” 28 year-old coach. Beth, the self-appointed captain of the squad, does not.

But of course, nothing is as it seems. And everyone has secrets. And that includes the new coach, Colette French (Willa Fitzgerald), who has secrets involving why she came back to the town and why her husband got his contracting job. Plus, she’s engaging in a few extracurricular activities on her own with the town’s high school military recruiter—activities which may or may not have been recorded by Beth.

“You are Gods,” the cheerleaders are told at one point by French. The question is how do they respond to that pressure?

This, combined with early moments from the first episode before the episodes travel back 3 months, seems to suggest this show is about empowerment and secrecy.  There will be blackmail and angst and murder and cover-ups. (Because television deems this as a totally accurate portrayal of teen life today).

When Sue Sylvester yells similar hyperbolic praise (or insults) to her cheerleading squad, the Cheerios, on Glee, it’s funny. As an audience, we know it’s all a satire–that the popularity of cheerleaders in the rural Midwest ended long ago before texting or MySpace or cell phones. But Dare Me would have us believe cheerleading is life—that the town’s new football stadium is going to potentially be built because the cheerleading squad might be good this year.

Excuse me? A multi-million dollar tire factory closed years ago, ending the dream of a new stadium in a small town but somehow a cheerleading team, where the members aren’t really invested in…cheerleading… is going to revitalize the town enough to build a multi-million dollar stadium?

Kids that go partying mid-week and schools that don’t care? Parents that don’t notice? Police that don’t… see dozens of kids hanging out in the woods?

There are many other problems with the show. Addy’s mom is a police officer and good parent. And yet she only gives questioning stares when coaches and recruiters show up late at night outside her door? And she never seems to care that her daughter is out at all hours of the night in the woods drinking and using drugs? If you know police officer parents, they tend to notice their children. This isn’t addressed in the first few episodes and it’s unfortunate.

Dare Me dares the audience to think you’re glimpsing some realistic gritty life of teenagers, but it’s such a preposterously false snapshot that it’s equally over-dramatic and dated. Find me one public high school that brazenly looks away from drug and bullying problems in 2019 and I’ll find you fired principals and news media stories that quickly change the school culture. Parents get overly sensitive about such things in schools today. Yet Dare Me doesn’t paint a glass-is-half-empty picture, but a glass-is-empty-and-shattered picture when it suggests teens are hopeless, helpless, have no positive adult figures whatsoever in their lives, and competition is deadly. In many ways, it’s a re-telling of Lord of the Flies. While it’s interesting, moving the pendulum so much to the extreme negates the realism and makes it silly in an unintended way.

So what does Dare Me do well?

Dare Me underscores the emptiness and “lost” nature of Beth and Addy—young women who are crumbling under too many pressures and weak support systems.

The show is at its best when it contemplates the nature of small-town secrets. There are quiet moments that are effective. In the pilot episode, when Addy talks about leaving town after graduating, Coach French warns that life is more complicated and tells her, “It’s important to have an exit plan that’s more than just an exit.” And when Beth’s mom complains Beth thinks leaving will be easy, Beth fires back, “I never thought anything would be easy.” The quiet conversations and arguments are the most authentic and genuine because they deal with broken relationships and broken dreams. When Dare Me channels The Great Gatsby instead of Lord of the Flies, it works so much better.

The other thing that makes Dare Me totally watchable is the gripping performance by Marlo Kelly as Beth. Kelly can master the glare of death (whether at her parents or friends) in a Lady Macbethean way—and yet she also perfectly plays the broken child who hasn’t quite grown up yet because of her family’s utter chaos. When she’s plotting something evil or reaching a breaking point and pointing a gun at her best friend, you never for a moment doubt that would happen—and that she’s broken, hurting and calling out for help. She’s an antagonist who is compelling to watch.

But Dare Me isn’t fun enough to watch. Watching teen angst is always tricky: usually moments of levity or compelling plot lines help, and Dare Me hasn’t quite produced either of these yet. Ironically, watching the show feels too much like a homework assignment.

Dare Me airs Sundays at 10 PM Eastern on USA. It can be streamed online: https://www.usanetwork.com/dare-me/episodes