High Fidelity
★★★★ 1/2
Is it possible to revere a movie while despising its main protagonist? For me, High Fidelity is a perfect example. It came into my life during a time when, much like Rob (John Cusack) and his eccentric friends, I was obsessed with movies, music and relationships. Back then, I identified with Rob’s quirks and angst. But revisiting it now, I find myself less charmed and more repelled by him. Rob comes off as whiny, angry and vindictive. However, it's his narcissism that truly grates on me—he practically wraps himself in it.
Looking back, it’s not surprising that these traits didn’t bother me as much when I first saw the movie in my early twenties, a time when most of us are consumed with self-absorption. But as a forty-something, I’m now struck by how insufferable Rob can be. It's ironic to think that I ever envied him. When Rob declares, “It’s what you like, not what you are like that matters,” my younger self probably fist-pumped in agreement. Today, not so much.
That said, High Fidelity is still a fantastic, fun film. It’s a love letter to anyone who adores art and loves talking about art. Stephen Frears masterfully ramps up the fourth-wall breaking device—first made iconic in Ferris Bueller’s Day Off—to give us full access to Rob’s inner thoughts. This creates a fascinating dynamic where we both sympathize with and cringe at him. It’s an ode to “best of” lists, which I’ve always been obsessed with, and part of what makes the movie relatable. I mean, I’ve dedicated a podcast to ranking the 50 Best Rom-Coms! Few movies capture fandom as well as this one.
There’s also a gut-punch moment of self-awareness when Rob’s on-again, off-again girlfriend Laura tells him, “You’re making something. You—the critic, the professional appreciator—put something new into the world. And the second one of those things gets sold, you’re officially a part of it.” That line stings, especially for someone like me who critiques movies. As much as I might trash a bad film, I have to admit that they made a movie, and I didn’t. It’s a humbling thought, and High Fidelity has a screenplay that makes you laugh and reflect in equal measure.
Now, I wonder: would this film have been as approachable without John Cusack? Rob isn’t a great person, but Cusack injects just enough vulnerability to keep us on his side, at least somewhat. He’s likable in his openness with the audience, even if his girlfriends might feel differently. Jack Black’s Barry and Todd Louiso’s Dick, meanwhile, provide a much-needed balance. Black steals the show, and it’s easy to see how his electric performance in this film catapulted him to stardom. Louiso’s Dick is the perfect foil, and together they make the record store scenes warm and likable—something the film really needs, given Rob’s often abrasive personality.
It’s also a treat to see Joan Cusack pop up, and I’d forgotten that Lisa Bonet, Catherine Zeta-Jones and Tim Robbins all make appearances. However, Iben Hjejle as Laura, Rob’s love interest, leaves little impact. Hjejle’s performance is fine, but there’s almost no chemistry between her and Cusack. The other characters overshadow her, and I was genuinely surprised when Rob and Laura got back together in the end.
Despite my frustrations with Rob, High Fidelity remains one of the most entertaining films of the 2000s. Its music, dialogue, performances and commentary on art still resonate. It’s a snapshot of a specific era, yet its themes are timeless. Different generations will connect with it in their own ways, ensuring its longevity. I just have to brace myself for spending more time with Rob again, because, honestly, he drives me nuts.
