California nostalgia, here we come. Yes, it’s been 21 whole years since Ryan Atwood arrived in Newport Beach, adopted by a rich (albeit flawed) family after being abandoned by his own. Cue the dreamy beachy landscapes, the noughties fashion and of course – the teen drama. The OC seemed to invade the cultural zeitgeist overnight, even bleeding into reality TV – within a year reality show Laguna Beach: The Real Orange County, starring Lauren Conrad, had aired – and its stars were gracing every magazine cover going.
It's been two decades, and The OC is still insanely rewatchable. I’d know, my most recent rewatch was January of this year. And while the show is most definitely not perfect (we’ll get to that), there’s so much that the show got right, helping it stand the test of time.
Where to begin? Perhaps the show’s central component: Ryan (Ben McKenzie) joining the Cohen family. To this day, everyone wants Sandy Cohen to be their dad (or Daddy, depending on your age and sexual preferences). According to the show’s creator Josh Schwartz, providing ‘wish fulfilment’ in the form of the audience wanting to be a part of the Cohen household – a real, tangible centre of love and acceptance – was meant to balance out the more aspirational elements of the show: the beach, the wealth, the high school drama. For every surf shot or opulent party, there was a wholesome bagel-schmearing kitchen scene.
While the Cohens may be the show’s closest thing to the nuclear family, their role as resident stray adopter reminds us all that our ‘chosen family’ can be an important and influential part of our lives. As affairs and heartbreak abound throughout the series, we see many forms of single-parent (and admittedly sometimes no-parent) households, a welcome departure from the normalisation of the nuclear family only.
Don’t get me wrong, the high school drama, the first loves, Ryan and Marissa (Mischa Barton)'s fights and reconciliations, the parties and Seth Cohen (Adam Brody)’s sarcastic quips are undoubtedly the lifeblood of the show. However, the reason that the show is so universal, so rewatchable, so lovable – even though it is primarily centred around a load of spoiled rich kids and their problems – is because the adults (the parents) are three-dimensional human beings as well. They have their own storylines, their own problems, their own sexual scandals. With every obstacle that hits Kirsten (Kelly Rowan) and Sandy’s marriage and every borderline insane and definitely unethical thing Julie Cooper (Melissa Clarke) does to maintain her social and financial standing, we are even further grounded into and invested in the world of The OC, particularly when the teen drama borders on the ridiculous. Saturday Night Live Mmmm Whatcha Say parody sketch, anyone? Schwartz insisted that the show was always going to be about the adults too, and it’s part of what makes The OC so compelling.
Another thing that set the show apart is its ability to be hilariously meta and self-referential, with its jokes often at the expense of teen drama tropes. Aside from the existence of The Valley, a TV show almost exclusively used to mock The OC itself ('It just got picked up for five more seasons. You know, these teen dramas, they just run forever'), there were so many jokey lines made at the expense of the actors themselves. From references to Peter Gallagher’s time playing John Travolta to Adam Brody’s role in The Ring, you almost feel part of the family in-jokes. Women are also at the forefront of The OC’s comedy, with Rachel Bilson (Summer) and Melissa Clarke as Julie delivering the best zingers by far – both characters began as guest stars but were soon made members of the permanent cast, and we can’t pretend it isn’t at least partially because they’re hilarious.
We’d be remiss to reminisce about The OC without highlighting the huge impact it had on the music scene in the Noughties, and how magical the soundtrack still is to this day. It brought indie rock into the mainstream – Schwartz says it was partially because it was cheap to license, but it also reflected what the characters (but also cast and crew) were listening to at the time. For him, it was all about choosing songs that conveyed how the characters were feeling, and it was done perfectly.
Providing ‘wish fulfilment’ in the form of the audience wanting to be a part of the Cohen household – a real, tangible centre of love and acceptance – was meant to balance out the more aspirational elements of the show.
By season two, the show was giving countless numbers of indie bands their start with bands such as The Killers, Modest Mouse, The Walkmen and Seth Cohen (and Adam Brody)’s favourite band Death Cab For Cutie all playing at The OC’s fictional gig venue The Bait Shop, providing awesome soundtrack fodder and a launch pad for the musicians’ careers. Music supervisor Alexandra Patsavas helped to create unforgettable music moments, from the Phantom Planet soundtrack to the different renditions of Hallelujah that break our hearts every single time. No TV show has left its mark on our playlists in the same way.
The more successful it got, The OC completely encapsulated Noughties fashion – for better and for worse. Low-rise jeans, miniskirts, bandanas – it captured a moment as it was happening, and it feels so nostalgic to relive it. That said, it also reminds us of the lack of body diversity on the show. No female lead was larger than a UK size 8-10 and the cast was pretty much all white. Though the show touched on queer relationships (with an adult storyline in season one and Marissa’s relationship with Olivia Wilde’s Alex in season two), critics have pointed out that they could have been more deeply explored. Marissa’s attempted rape was fairly quickly moved on from, and don’t get me started on the anti-therapy attitudes and storylines. There’s no doubt that these themes would be dealt with differently today.
Valid criticisms aside, The OC remains the most self-aware teen drama of its time – that meant something, and still does. It also highlighted how much we want to pull the curtain back on the rich and dysfunctional, leading Schwartz to go on and make Gossip Girl – and the rest is history.
While remaining a teen drama in its own right, it straddled the aspirational side of California living while being frank and funny about the shortcomings of a privileged life. It was political, but still good fun. Self-referential, but silly. Dramatic, but full of comedy and heart. And that’s why it’s still top of our rewatch lists.