Tamara Jenkins is a genius at making you feel uncomfortable in the best way possible. Seriously. If you’ve been looking for a reason to watch Slums of Beverly Hills, it usually starts and ends with the fact that it’s one of the most honest, grimy, and yet strangely optimistic movies about growing up poor in a rich zip code. Released in 1998 but set in 1976, it captures that specific brand of "nomadic poverty" that feels so much realer than the glossy coming-of-age stories we usually get from Hollywood.
It's about the Abramowitz family. They aren't "Beverly Hills" in the way people think of the show 90210. They’re the people living on the fringe, moving from one dingy apartment to the next just so the kids can stay in the good school district. It’s stressful. It’s hilarious. It’s Natasha Lyonne at her absolute peak.
Why This Film Still Hits Different Decades Later
Most movies about the 70s feel like a costume party. You know the ones—everyone is wearing flares that are too clean and listening to a soundtrack that feels like a "Best of the Decade" compilation. Jenkins doesn't do that. When you watch Slums of Beverly Hills, you’re seeing the brown, mustard-yellow, slightly sticky reality of the mid-70s.
Alan Arkin plays Murray, the patriarch who is constantly one step ahead of the landlord. He’s not a villain, but he’s definitely not a hero. He’s just a guy trying to keep his family’s head above water while maintaining a delusional sense of status. This is the core of the film's brilliance. It explores the "shame" of being lower-middle class in a culture that worships excess.
Vivian, played by Lyonne, is our eyes and ears. She’s dealing with puberty—specifically her developing chest, which the movie treats with a frankness that was actually pretty revolutionary for the late 90s. There’s a scene involving a vibrator that is legendary for its awkwardness. It’s not played for cheap laughs; it’s played for that specific "I want to crawl into a hole and die" feeling that defines being fourteen.
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The Marisa Tomei Factor
Can we talk about Rita? Marisa Tomei plays the cousin who comes to stay with them after escaping rehab. She is the chaotic energy that the movie needs. Tomei has this incredible ability to play "messy" without making it a caricature. She’s vulnerable, she’s a bit of a disaster, and she’s the only female role model Vivian has.
Honestly, the chemistry between Lyonne and Tomei is what grounds the whole thing. They are both outsiders. They are both trying to figure out how to be women in a world that mostly views them as objects or inconveniences.
Where to Watch Slums of Beverly Hills and What to Look For
If you’re trying to find it today, it’s usually available on platforms like Hulu or for rent on Amazon and Apple. But don't just put it on in the background while you scroll through your phone. You’ll miss the details. Look at the set design. The apartments they live in are cluttered and cramped. You can almost smell the stale cigarette smoke and the cheap carpeting.
Small Details You’ll Notice
- The obsession with "the belt." Murray’s logic is that if you have a nice belt, you look like you have money. It’s such a specific, weirdly accurate observation about how people try to "class up" their appearance when they’re broke.
- The soundtrack. It’s not just disco. It’s moody, weird, and perfectly fits the "slum" aesthetic of the outskirts of 90212.
- Kevin Corrigan as Eliot. He’s the quintessential 70s weirdo neighbor. His performance is understated but essential for building the world around Vivian.
The Cultural Impact of the "Slum"
When people talk about indie cinema from the 90s, they often bring up Pulp Fiction or Clerks. But Slums of Beverly Hills deserves to be in that top tier. It paved the way for movies like Lady Bird. It proved that you could tell a story about a girl’s adolescence without making it about a prom or a makeover.
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Vivian doesn’t get a "glow up" at the end. She doesn’t land the hot guy and suddenly become popular. She just survives. She gains a little bit more agency over her own body and her own life. That’s it. And in the 70s—and let’s be real, even now—that feels like a massive victory.
The film also tackles Jewish identity in a way that feels very specific to that era of New York-to-California transplants. The Abramowitzes are displaced. They don't fit in with the wealthy Jewish families in the "flats" of Beverly Hills, but they’re too tied to the prestige of the zip code to leave. It’s a cycle of self-imposed exile.
It’s Actually a Comedy (I Promise)
I know I’m making this sound like a heavy social drama. It’s not. It’s incredibly funny. But the humor comes from the pain. It’s "cringe comedy" before that was a formalized genre. When Vivian has to help her dad "dine and dash," or when her brother performs a dramatic musical number to "Luck Be a Lady," it’s absurd.
But it’s the kind of absurdity that happens when families are under pressure. You either laugh or you lose your mind. Arkin’s deadpan delivery is the anchor. He plays Murray with such a sincere belief in his own hustle that you almost root for him to get away with it. Almost.
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Actionable Takeaways for Your Next Movie Night
If you're planning to watch Slums of Beverly Hills, here is how to get the most out of the experience and where to dive deeper after the credits roll:
- Pair it with a double feature: Watch this alongside Lady Bird or The Squid and the Whale. All three films deal with "intellectual but broke" family dynamics and the friction of growing up.
- Research Tamara Jenkins: She didn't make another movie for nine years after this (the excellent The Savages). Understanding her gap in filmmaking adds a layer of appreciation for how much she pours into her scripts.
- Check the 70s Geography: If you know Los Angeles, part of the fun is seeing the "wrong side" of Beverly Hills. It’s a reminder that every wealthy enclave has a border where the paint starts peeling.
- Focus on the Wardrobe: Notice how Vivian’s clothes never quite fit right. It’s a subtle costume choice that highlights her discomfort in her own skin and her family’s financial situation.
The movie ends on a highway, which is the only way it could end. The Abramowitz family is always moving, always looking for the next "great" apartment, always chasing a version of the American Dream that is just out of reach. It’s a masterpiece of 90s cinema that feels more relevant every year as the cost of living keeps rising and the "slums" keep getting pushed further out.
Go find it. Sit through the awkwardness. It's worth every second.