I am just old enough for High School Musical to have been a threat to my personal dignity. Kenny Ortega's kiddie megafranchise, which debuted January 2006, juggernauted into cultural relevance just as I turned 17— frankly, only three years after Disney Channel ceased being the white noise of my everyday existence.
I saw vulgarity in HSM's plastic funk and robotic pop, its earnest romance and "follow your dreams" hamminess. You see, I was far too mature and alternative for HSM's chintzy charms.
I recall eye-rolling aplenty while babysitting my little cousins the summer before freshman year of college, bravely enduring the film's ubiquitous cable repetitions.
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