In 1995, six years before she was introduced to the world in the 2001 film “Legally Blonde,” Elle Woods was a high school student suddenly thrust out of her sunny Beverly Hills comfort zone into the overcast, extremely flannel world of Seattle. That is the backstory created in “Elle,” a new Prime Video series and prequel to “Legally Blonde” that imagines what life would have been like for teenage Elle if she’d had to navigate the grungy Pacific Northwest scene armed with an almost entirely pink wardrobe and a plucky attitude that shines a little too brightly for the shoegazer crowd.
Created by Laura Kittrell, whose previous writing and producing credits include “Insecure” and the wonderful, underrated “High School,” “Elle” begins with a clunky pilot and slowly becomes more watchable as it progresses through the eight episodes in its first season. It helps that the lead role once owned by Reese Witherspoon, also an executive producer, is occupied by newcomer Lexi Minetree, who looks a teeny bit old for high school (the actress is 25 in real life), but effectively channels the same bubbly, can-do spirit of Witherspoon’s Elle, along with her frustration with people who judge the cover of her book and immediately file her in the “vapid” section. But particularly in its early installments, the show “Elle” tends to place many of its characters into overly simplistic categories.
Literally every kid at Rainier West High School—which Elle attends after her plastic surgeon father (Thomas Everett Scott) performs a reputation-ruining botched nose job that forces her family to leave L.A.—dresses in either black, gray, or some monochromatic combination of the two. They’re all a bit cynical, mildly depressed and, sometimes, downright mean. “People are saying that you wearing that shirt is the second worst thing to ever happen to Nirvana,” Kimberly (Chandler Kinney), who immediately emerges as Elle’s nemesis, tells Elle when she shows up to school in a Nirvana shirt she bedazzled herself. “Seattle isn’t a costume and pink isn’t a personality,” Kimberly adds. The problem is that the show absolutely acts like Seattle, and the mid-’90s in general, is a costume, a hypocrisy that Elle lightly touches on herself. When Shannon, a fellow classmate and friend, tells Elle that the kids in Seattle are anti-conformity and “afraid to be like everybody else,” Elle responds, “Except when it comes to plaid.”
It’s best not to spend much time thinking about how the events in “Elle” may or may not disrupt the canon of the “Legally Blonde” franchise, which, for the record, includes three movies and a hit Broadway musical. (It’s okay if you don’t remember the 2009 straight-to-DVD release “Legally Blondes,” about Elle’s twin British cousins. Nobody else does either.) Kittrell and her fellow writers go out of their way to make allusions to the first movie, from the episode titles that repeat classic Elle Woods quotes—“Whoever Said Orange is the New Pink Was Seriously Disturbed” is the name of episode six; episode eight is called, “What, Like It’s Hard”—to the frequent references to Elle’s previously established favorite things (Cosmo and “Days of Our Lives.”)
But the series is just as evocative of other teen films and TV shows as it is of “Legally Blonde.” In fact, if someone turned on this series without knowing what it was, they might be convinced they were watching a streaming adaptation of “Clueless” since it’s set in 1995, the year the film was released; features similar music (“Just a Girl” by No Doubt makes an appearance, as do Radiohead and a cavalcade of other artists who had hits in the ‘90s); and focuses on a protagonist who’s determined to become a better, more serious person. As she did in “Legally Blonde,” Elle also uses a fuzzy feather pen. But we all know who did that first, and she has the same name as the lady who won an Oscar for “Moonstruck.”
Halfway through the season, a storyline involving the potential cover-up of a financial scandal at Rainier West High starts to give “Elle” a bit of a “Veronica Mars” vibe. There’s also an entire episode set during Saturday detention that overtly and frequently references “The Breakfast Club.” And in a choice that is now more poignant in retrospect, James Van Der Beek, whose career launched via “Dawson’s Creek,” plays a school superintendent running for mayor in what turned out to be his final performance. (He died earlier this year of colorectal cancer.)
The more you can think of “Elle” as another teen show dealing with typical teen issues—including dating mishaps, the struggle to make and maintain friendships, and the attempt to define one’s sexual identity—the more likely you are to meet this series where it is and enjoy it on its own breezy terms. There are indeed some things to enjoy.
In addition to Minetree’s charming performance, Gabrielle Policano is a stand-out as Liz, an out-of-the-closet lesbian and straight shooter who becomes unlikely buddies with Elle. Her character could easily have come across as a stereotype, but Policano gives her a sense of humor and humanity that make her feel like a real teenager rather than one invented for a streaming release. Most of the laughs in “Elle” are generated by June Diane Raphael, who is extremely well-cast as Elle’s mother, a privileged busybody who, like her daughter, is not shy about stating her opinions. “These children are pale on purpose,” she tells Elle in an attempt to comfort her when her classmates are less than welcoming. “They don’t know anything.”
“Elle” won’t teach you anything important that you don’t already know about Elle Woods or, for that matter, what it’s like to be a teenage girl in the ‘90s or any other era. But it’s light, cheerful to look at, and unchallenging to binge in a weekend. Sometimes you need a dose of that after wallowing for too long under heavy clouds and too much flannel.
All eight episodes of season one were screened for review. Premieres July 1 on Prime Video.
