As Generation X meanders its way through middle age, occasionally pondering with a distinct sardonic glance who they are and how they got here in a Talking Heads-esque “Letting the Days Go By” montage, they need look no further than the box office poster for Cameron Crowe’s 1992 low-budget cult film Singles. In that image of the twentysomethings profiled in the movie resides the spirit of a generation of young people making the most of an uncertain time by focusing on their pursuit of lifestyle over career and depending on the “neighbors” who subbed in as family. Cliff and Janet on the park bench as Steve and Linda stroll pass enmeshed in a kiss, the image evokes a sense of socialness and community — they are friends and neighbors, bonded by their proximity and hopeful about the decades of adulthood out in front of them. The poster and film offer hope, promise, and above all, authenticity.
When the twenty-fifth anniversary of the film basically coincided with the passing of Soundgarden’s Chris Cornell, watching the film again brought a hard dose of nostalgia against a reality check of middle age. It was the untimely and emotionally heavy death of Chris Cornell, just a month shy of the quarter century mark for the soundtrack’s release, that led me back to the first and only film that spoke to us with generational authenticity. And, when I’m feeling that generational tug and that middle age nostalgia, I look back to the gang from Seattle to remind me how it once was, and why today looks pretty good.
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