Movie Review: Class (1983)

Class (1983) is a bold 80s teen comedy-drama about friendship, growing up, and the complications of love, featuring early Brat Pack stars Rob Lowe and Andrew McCarthy.

COMING OF AGEDRAMA

★★★★★

A gutsy and underrated '80s classic that has a twist that you would not expect, funny, awkward, and surprisingly taboo.

woman standing near brown concrete building
woman standing near brown concrete building
Jenni N.

Pennsylvania

There’s something about 80s comedies that managed to mix outrageous plots with just enough heart to keep us invested, and Class (1983) is a prime example. Directed by Lewis John Carlino, this film is often remembered as the “Brat Pack warm-up,” pairing a young Rob Lowe and Andrew McCarthy before they became household names. But what sets Class apart isn’t just its cast, it’s the messy, complicated, and surprisingly bold subject matter.

For those who haven’t seen it, the film follows Jonathan (McCarthy), a nervous prep school freshman, who befriends the effortlessly cool Skip (Rob Lowe). When Skip encourages Jonathan to go out and “become a man,” things spiral into chaos after Jonathan unknowingly begins an affair with Skip’s mother (played by Jacqueline Bisset). Cue the fallout, the awkward tension, and the question: What does it really mean to grow up?

Coming-of-age with sharper edges

Most teen comedies of the era played it safe with slapstick antics or broad romance arcs, but Class digs into something a little more uncomfortable. The affair subplot makes the film feel less like a goofy romp and more like a conversation about identity, loyalty, and the messy paths people take on their way to adulthood.

What struck me rewatching it was how honest it feels in its awkwardness. Jonathan’s fumbling, self-conscious energy perfectly mirrors that confusing teenage desire to “fit in” while still figuring out who you are. At the same time, Skip isn’t just the token “cool best friend”; his arc carries its own sting once the affair comes to light. That balance of comedy and raw drama is something that makes Class stand out, even today.

The performances that shaped careers

Rob Lowe and Andrew McCarthy would later become staples of the Brat Pack era, but here you can see their raw beginnings. Lowe has the charisma but also flashes moments of vulnerability, while McCarthy nails the nervousness of a teen in way over his head.

Jacqueline Bisset deserves more credit than she gets for this film. While the script could have easily turned her into a one-note stereotype of “the hot mom,” she brings an elegance and emotional depth that complicates the whole situation. She’s funny, yes, but also heartbreaking in her loneliness and search for connection.

A prep school comedy with surprising class commentary

One thing rarely discussed in reviews of Class is its critique of privilege and elitism. The prep school setting isn’t just a backdrop; it highlights the divide between image and reality. These kids are raised in environments full of status, but beneath the surface, they’re just as lost and reckless as anyone else. It’s a subtle but biting reminder that wealth doesn’t buy maturity or morality.

Why it still matters today

Sure, Class isn’t as widely celebrated as Sixteen Candles or Risky Business, but it paved the way for a different kind of teen comedy. It’s a film that doesn’t shy away from discomfort, and that’s why it sticks with you. Watching it now, you can see the early DNA of films that dared to mix comedy with heavier themes of betrayal, family, and messy adolescence.

For me, it’s one of those 80s gems that may not get talked about as much but deserves its place in the conversation.

Final thoughts

At the end of the day, Class is more than just a quirky 80s comedy about prep school antics. It’s an honest, sometimes painful, but still hilarious exploration of growing up when life throws in complications you couldn’t predict. If you’re looking for a film that feels like an essential stepping stone to the Brat Pack era and one that still sparks conversation, this is a must-watch.