I caught an early screener for Teenage Wasteland a while back, and honestly, now that it’s streaming on Netflix, you just need to put it on.
Here’s the premise: back in 1991 in Middletown, NY, an English teacher named Fred Isseks handed a group of high school misfits some camcorders for a basic media class. Instead of turning in a routine student assignment, these kids stumbled onto an active toxic waste site poisoning their town. Next thing they know, they’re confronting corrupt politicians, indifferent town leaders, and some seriously shady characters who wanted them to shut up.
And they didn’t shut up.
What makes it work isn’t just the David-and-Goliath plot, but Fred’s whole deal. He doesn’t hover over them or act like the hero of the story. He basically gave them the gear, showed them how to press record, and said, “Go figure it out.” They had zero budget, no journalists’ credentials, and no idea what they were doing—just sheer stubbornness, bad 90s hair, and each other.
The original tape is what really sells it. It’s built on hundreds of hours of grainy, handheld 1991 camcorder footage. Unpolished, awkward, loud, and funny. It doesn’t look like a shiny modern production, thank god. You’re right there in the car with these kids while they slowly realize they’re in way over their heads. Cutting back and forth between that raw footage and present-day interviews 30 years later hits surprisingly hard.
Also, the killer soundtrack keeps the whole thing from sinking into a depressing slog. There’s a chaotic, youthful energy to it that feels more like an investigative road trip with friends than a bleak environmental lecture.
At 110 minutes, it moves fast and lands the emotional points without feeling preachy. If you’re tired of over-produced true crime and want something that actually leaves you feeling decent about humanity for an hour or two, stream it.
Rating: 4.5 / 5
