Growing up in the early 2000s, Disney Channel was always on in my house. The fuzzy edges of my mind contain fond memories of sitting on rough carpet, eating dry cereal with my hands, whilst I mindlessly gazed at Selena Gomez fighting evil wizards with her fictional brothers and the Sprouse twins being little troublemakers on that cruise ship they lived on. Disney Channel became white noise to my malleable prepubescent brain, constantly feeding me identical laugh tracks and theme songs that would worm their way into my memory for years to come. The constant stream of re-runs sticks in my head as one long crossover episode, featuring every child actor playing out every forgettable plot line all at once. This is where the Disney Channel Original Movies (DCOMs) stand out.
Gems like Camp Rock (2008), The Cheetah Girls (2003), Starstruck (2010), and of course the High School Musical franchise all felt like big events at the time. Counting down the hours till the new DCOM would debut on my TV, timing the microwave popcorn so it would be ready a minute before the opening credits, turning all the lights off in my living room to make it feel like the cinema; this was Sundance for 12-year-old girls. However, there was only ever one DCOM that truly gripped me, only one that I ever asked for the physical DVD copy of: Patricia Riggen’s Lemonade Mouth (2011).
It was hard to define what was special about Lemonade Mouth when I was 10 — I just knew there was something a bit scandalous about it. A group of five particularly outcast teenagers meet for the first time in detention, realise they all have a talent for music, form a pop-punk band, and aim to win the big school talent show against ‘Mudslide Crush’, the pre-existing school band made up of ridiculously stereotypical jock types. The diverse cast still puts many DCOMs to shame today and the songs — in my opinion — are good songs. There is no doubt that Lemonade Mouth went above and beyond the expectations for DCOMs to be both fun and moving at the time of its release. The core goal amongst these students is a surprisingly socio-political one: to save the arts department at their school, as the construction of a new gymnasium threatens to entirely destroy any extracurricular activities that are not sports-based.
At the start of the film, during the basic character introductions (standard for a DCOM), Stella (played by relatively recent pop sensation Hayley Kiyoko) arrives for her first day at her new high school and is told by the overtly villainous Principle Brenigan (Christopher McDonald) that she must change her “offensive” t-shirt, because it has the words ‘QUESTION AUTHORITY’ printed across it. She refuses and makes a dramatic speech in the middle of a school assembly in which she declares it an infringement on her right to free speech. This moment introduces a spark of hope for the other overlooked students at this sports-centric institution, whilst also landing her in the fateful detention that will consequently bring the band together. All of this happens before we get any real acts of resistance, yet it seems to perfectly demonstrate the rather radical attitude taken by this Disney film. We see our protagonists quite literally questioning authority.
One overarching theme in Lemonade Mouth is collective protest. Nothing is achieved in this film through any individual actions taken by our protagonists. It’s only when the band is formed that any change is made. It seems peculiar to me that a film appearing so ‘Disney’ on its surface, with its catchy songs and cast of fan favourites like Bridgit Mendler (Olivia) and Blake Michael (Charlie), would so proudly centre its narrative around a rebellion against this specific type of corrupt authority: authority that is depicted as prioritising economic success over truly free artistic expression. Disney, the world’s third most powerful media conglomerate, producing and promoting a film that inspires a rebellion against such a system that in some ways reflects their own? Can the depiction of non-conformist creative media as a highly effective form of protest not be a dangerous message for this all-encompassing corporation to promote? It can be argued that this approach allows for a self-referential critique by Disney, but I think the edginess of Lemonade Mouth is a deliberate attempt to appeal to a younger demographic.
Nostalgic call-backs are strategically employed throughout Lemonade Mouth in order to justify the nature of the film’s narrative. The parallels between the plot of Lemonade Mouth and those of the iconic 1980s films targeted towards rebellious teens, specifically John Hughes’ The Breakfast Club (1985) and Ferris Bueller’s Day Off (1986), are hard to ignore. A group of students angry at the perceived corruption of their education system join forces despite their differences to defeat the real villain: evil caricature-like teachers with the intention of crushing any individualism or passion residing within their students. Lemonade Mouth’s audience most likely would not have been aware of these classics at the time of its release — I know I certainly wasn’t — so it seems as if this particular narrative has been borrowed to create an effective mix of the 80s nostalgia that is so cherished in contemporary culture and the fresh perspective of a young audience.
In this sense, Lemonade Mouth exists as a sort of revelation for an audience immersed in teen films exclusively exploring first loves and unrequited crushes, demonstrating that plots can be driven by passionate rebellion through unity rather than just budding romances. There is no real violence or conflict in this film, the most intense moment is arguably the sit-in demonstration organised by the band to protest the removal of their beloved lemonade machine. However, for a piece of artistic media existing in such tight, limiting constraints, this Disney film does not allow the passion flickering at its heart to be dampened by its context.So here we are, 10 years on from the initial release of Lemonade Mouth, and it becomes clear that, although it was never as daring as it seemed on the surface, it still holds up as a particularly poignant creation in the context of Disney Channel Originals. It exists as a made-for-television film, to which people say “I haven’t thought about that one in years” when it’s brought up in conversation. The passionate undertones are undeniable; a focus on coming together in the face of injustice prevails and sets it apart from its surroundings. Disney’s take on punk rebellion is an inspiring attempt to explore previously cherished tropes through an updated format.
