Fast Times at Ridgemont High - A True Story

Braking Point

It was always a special treat for Stacy to round the corner of the 200 Building and see the blinds drawn in Health and Safety class. It meant that Mrs. Beeson was showing a film. It meant a break from the regular clock-watching routine.

The next question, of course, was how long is this film? And that was answered easily enough on this day with one look at the spool. Today’s film was popping off the end, it was so full.

“Let’s all settle down quickly,” said Mrs. Beeson. “This is a long driver’s-ed film. It’s been a few years since we had it on campus. It’s called Braking Point. Carl? Would you get the lights, please?”

Mrs. Beeson had gone through almost every title in every audio-visual catalog. She had seen them all, several times, and once she got a film rolling in her class, Mrs. Beeson usually spent the period in her cubicle at the back of the room.

More than a few students in Health and Safety had mastered the technique of checking the film spool, waiting for Mrs. Beeson to retreat into her cubicle, then slipping out the door only to return minutes before the film ended. Mrs. Beeson would be happy—her class was always refreshed and invigorated when the lights came back on after a film.

Sometimes even the hardcore truants stayed in class if the film was interesting enough to them. The last Health and Safety film had been a vintage antidrug movie narrated by Sonny and Cher. It was called Why Do You Think They Call It Dope? In the dramatic high point of the film, Sonny and Cher appeared as themselves and addressed the camera.

“You think marijuana is harmless?” asked Sonny Bono, as the camera picture grew fuzzy and nondescript. “How would you like it if your doctor took a smoke before operating on you? How would you like it if your mechanic smoked a joint before working on your car? How harmless is it then?”

When the lights came back on, a few guys from Auto Shop were deeply affected.

“Hey,” one of them said, “Sonny had a damn good point.”

Braking Point, like so many public service films for high school students, had a celebrity narrator. Desi Arnaz. The film began with a typical suburban street scene, as seen through the front window of a slowly-traveling car.

“Driving is an important part of each and every one of our daily lives,” Desi began in his Latin accent. The car in the film accelerated. “It’s a responsibility like no other, and it’s a matter of life and . . .”

A ball came bounding out onto the street. The driver in the film braked, but failed to turn his wheel to the right. The film freeze-framed the face of the terrified child about to be splattered.

“. . . death.”

There was a swell of music. It was somehow hard to take seriously a driver’s-ed film hosted by Ricky Ricardo.

“They have found The Braking Point.”

Back to the serenity of a quiet suburban street scene.

“The driver here,” continued the narration, “has had just two drinks. Just two drinks at a home of a friend.”

“He’s fucked up, Ricky,” someone shouted.

“Get him out of the car! He’s a fuckin’ drunk!”

Continued the narration: “. . . And although this driver thinks he’s driving well, he may be doing okay, but he forgets to perceive what’s really going on . . .”

In the film, another car came barreling in from the left, running a stop sign and exploding into the side of the two-drink goner.

“ADIOS MUCHACHOS!”

Braking Point continued in this ascending-scale-of-bloodshed fashion so popular in driver’s-ed films. The class got rowdier and rowdier. When an entire family was maimed and a woman decapitated, the audience reached a peak.

“SO GROSS!”

“FUCK IT. I DON’T WANT TO DRIVE!”

“HELP! RICKY!”

Mrs. Beeson emerged from her cubicle at the back of the classroom. “Carl,” she said, “do you want to get the lights, please? I think we’ve all had enough today . . .”

The lights came back on in Mrs. Beeson’s Health and Safety class. As usual, a quarter of the class had sneaked out.

“Where is Stacy Hamilton?” asked Mrs. Beeson. “And where is Chuck Stillson? What happened to Tony Brendis? Where did all these people go? And where is . . .”