"I can fix him": The Paradox of Heathers the Musical (1989) vs Heathers the Movie (1988)
by Sophia Luncașu and Ana Mureșan
If you've ever wondered what a society with no rules or consequences might look like, well, the film Heathers is your answer. Directed in 1989 by Michael Lehmann, this dark comedy offers a hard-to-digest perspective on high school life, while also giving voice—and life—to the most hidden thoughts and frustrations of its two central characters: JD, played by Christian Slater, a rebellious and charming young man, and Veronica, portrayed by Winona Ryder, a member of the most popular and exclusive group at Westerburg High. After all, what could possibly go wrong?
If the film Heathers (1989) is a dark comedy about high school social dynamics and a desire to rebel against conformity, Heathers: The Musical brings a modern reinterpretation that tackles complex social dilemmas and delves deeper into the characters’ internal conflicts. The relationship between Veronica and JD remains the narrative center, but is interpreted differently, with an important feminist message.
At first glance, the film’s atmosphere seems typical of 1980s high school life: social hierarchies, popularity issues, toxic friendships, and bullying. In short, the beginning of any high school drama that ends with the same moral. However, almost imperceptibly, Heathers takes an unexpected turn—bold for its time—when JD and Veronica discover the concept of free will and decide to take social inequality into their own hands, ending the lives of those who stand in their way.
If Heathers (1989) was already daring for its time, addressing themes like extreme violence, suicide, and toxic hierarchies, Heathers: The Musical takes these subjects to the extreme, more directly and harshly exploring the dark realities of adolescence. The musical not only retains the film’s cynicism and humor but also amplifies the discussion around various forms of abuse, eating disorders, and sexual assault.
The film follows Veronica Sawyer and Jason Dean, students at Westerburg High. Veronica is intelligent and sarcastic, but feels trapped by the toxic popularity of the three “Heathers”—the most popular girls in school. JD initially appears to be a breath of fresh air from that superficial, suffocating friendship. Yet behind the stereotypically attractive rebel biker look, he is a dangerous killer. JD entices the young protagonist into his web, smothering her with unhealthy attachment and drawing her into a cycle of crimes she can’t stop.
Their relationship is portrayed as one that diminishes, at least for Veronica, her ability to distinguish between reality and fiction. Their dynamic is not that of a typical teen couple portrayed in the media. Instead, they are partners in crime, each driven by their own motives: JD by a pathological desire for destruction, Veronica by impulsiveness and fear.
Though it's hard to pinpoint the source of their frustrations, the two are united by a visceral desire to change society. In the speech JD uses to win Veronica over, he expresses his discontent not only with Westerburg High but with the world, which he sees as hypocritical, obsessed with status and conformity, too weak or naive to face the truth. His nihilistic worldview stems from the loss of his mother and the anti-role model provided by his father, whose path he unconsciously follows.
Veronica undergoes a tumultuous psychological evolution. JD gradually drains her of humanity and reason, turning her into his blind puppet. She is driven by the desire to escape the pressures of her group and to take revenge on those who abused their power. She is torn between the desire for freedom and the need to belong, and her confusion and identity struggles lead her to extreme solutions.
Veronica’s dependency on JD is summed up by the infamous line: “I can fix him.” In what seems like her first romantic relationship and caught in a domino-like chain of murders, she develops an unhealthy attachment to JD, preventing her from leaving the relationship. Over time, her autonomy is undermined as he uses her as bait and an accomplice to fulfill his deranged goals.
The symbolic moment when she wakes from JD’s spell is when the magic of their relationship fades, and Veronica regains control over her actions. From that point on, she finds unmatched courage and resolves to save the school from JD’s bombing plan.
The Heathers
Trigger Warning: Eating disorders, sexual abuse, psychological violence
Heather Chandler, the leader of the Heathers, is defined by a toxic mix of absolute power and deep insecurities. In the film, she is dominant, manipulative, and nearly invincible in others’ eyes. The musical, however, uses its soundtrack to hint at her inner fragility.
In “Candy Store,” she projects the image of a desirable girl in total control. Yet in “Blue,” a subtle reference suggests her struggle with body image. The pressure to maintain impossible perfection drives her toward destructive habits, reflecting a harsh reality many teenage girls face.
Heather Chandler becomes not just a symbol of the cruelty of the social system but also a victim of it. She imposes impossible standards on others and herself in a vicious cycle that turns her into what she despises. Her death, followed by ironic glorification, reveals the hypocrisy of her supposed power.
Heather Duke is marked by envy, ambition, and deep insecurity that turns her from victim to aggressor. Her inner struggle is clearer in the film through her eating disorder—bulimia—a hidden manifestation of her lack of control, dominated by Heather Chandler.
Heather C’s death doesn’t free her—it only makes her repeat the same cycle, adopting Chandler’s cruelty to try to fill shoes too big for her insecurity: “Grow up, Heather, Bulimia is so 87” (The Heathers, 1988).
While Heather Duke is driven by ambition and frustration, Heather McNamara is her opposite: a symbol of the pressure to survive by conforming. In the film, she’s often seen as naive and pretty, following her friends without much thought. The musical gives her emotional depth.
She’s a prisoner of a life not her own. Her popularity is an obligation, not a choice. She must smile, be pretty, adored—even if she’s miserable inside.
The song “Lifeboat” is a key moment, revealing McNamara’s true face. She’s not carefree, but someone drowning under the pressure of appearances. “I float in a boat in a raging black ocean” – the metaphor captures her feeling trapped in chaos, where any misstep could mean exclusion or worse. When she tries to express pain, others mock her. Duke immediately turns into her aggressor, making her a perfect scapegoat. McNamara represents the classic “good girl” or “dumb blonde” trope in pop culture.
One of the most controversial parts of Heathers: The Musical is its portrayal of sexual assault, a theme hinted at in the film but central in the musical.
The song “Blue,” sung by Ram and Kurt, exemplifies dark comedy at its most extreme. The boys sing about wanting to sleep with Veronica, but the language and tone suggest a clear threat of rape. Though the melody is silly, the message is grave—the boys use their social status to normalize the belief they have a “right” to Veronica, highlighting the danger in this dynamic.
While the film treats assault more subtly, the musical brings it to the forefront. “Yo, Girl,” sung by JD’s ghostly victims, reflects Veronica’s trauma after her encounter with Ram and Kurt. The song’s nightmare tone emphasizes how Veronica’s voice is silenced and her reality rewritten, showing how often assault is ignored, especially when the aggressors are “popular.”
In the film, JD is cold and detached—a “bad boy” archetype. The musical humanizes him a bit, which makes him even more dangerous. In “Freeze Your Brain,” JD shares his philosophy: life is chaos, and survival means disconnecting. His self-destructive mindset stems from his mother’s death, his father’s abuse, and emotional isolation. His extreme worldview—if the system can’t be fixed, destroy it—drives his actions.
The scariest part of JD isn’t just his violence, but how he justifies it. When he manipulates Veronica, he doesn’t just demand loyalty but validation—he needs her to say he’s right. This is the core of the “I can fix him” illusion—Veronica, caught in his chaos, believes she can save him. She thinks that beneath all the fury, JD is just a lost boy in need of love.
To her, JD is the perfect savior, ready to shield her from high school. “I’d do anything for you.” But the truth hits hard when JD lies to her—he wants to possess her, not make her happy. The climax comes with “Meant to be Yours,” where JD’s obsessive, violent nature is exposed, and Veronica fakes her own suicide to escape.
A key difference between the two versions is how JD and Veronica’s relationship is framed through a feminist lens. While the film portrays a strong lead, it doesn’t explore the emotional abuse deeply. The musical does—making it clearer.
Veronica isn’t just a victim of JD’s manipulation, but also of her own illusion that she can save him. The musical’s ending stresses that JD cannot be changed, and Veronica must save herself.
She evolves differently in each. In the film, she’s swept into events she underestimates and regains autonomy only near the end. In the musical, she’s self-aware from the start, with the songs emphasizing her inner battle between belonging and doing what’s right. “Dead Girl Walking” reflects her acceptance of mistakes and her path to reclaiming control.
From “I can fix him” to “I can fix myself.”
The final moment of Heathers is a powerful feminist symbol. In the film, lighting her cigarette with JD’s explosion represents her liberation and leaves us with a darkened figure shaped by others. In the musical, JD’s death song “I Am Damaged” brings a more realistic end. Veronica not only survives—she learns. She breaks the cycle of violence and chooses to save herself instead of JD.
Ana: In conclusion, Heathers remains a cult classic that masterfully blends dark humor with social satire. By tackling themes such as adolescent nonconformity, violence, and alienation, the film challenges us to reflect on the dangers of popular culture and its impact on those trapped in its web. With standout performances by Winona Ryder and Christian Slater, a powerful soundtrack, and raw storytelling, Heathers is not just a film about teenagers—it’s a film for teenagers, capturing adolescence without a filter or romanticism.