Okay, let's dim the lights, maybe adjust the tracking just so on that imaginary VCR, and pop in a tape that feels like pure, unfiltered early 90s. Remember cruising the aisles of the video store, past the big action hits and horror staples, maybe landing in the comedy section and pulling out a box with a familiar, slightly mischievous face on it? That’s the vibe for 1993’s Just One of the Girls (sometimes found under the title Anything for Love), a teen comedy starring the late, great Corey Haim. This isn't high art, folks, but it’s a perfect little time capsule, the kind of movie you'd happily rent on a Friday night and maybe forget half the plot by Monday, but still remember with a certain fondness.
### He's All That... Girl?
The premise is classic, almost Shakespearean if you squint really hard after a few too many sodas: Chris Calder (Corey Haim) is a high school kid with a serious bully problem. His tormentor, Kurt Stark (Cameron Bancroft), makes his life hell. His desperate solution? Enroll at the next high school disguised as a girl named "Chrissy." Naturally, complications ensue. He falls for the lovely Marie (Nicole Eggert, familiar to many from Charles in Charge and Baywatch), who thinks he’s her new best girlfriend, while simultaneously trying to fend off the unwanted advances of Marie's overly amorous brother (also played by Cameron Bancroft, pulling double duty in a slightly confusing but amusing twist).
It’s a setup ripe for situational comedy, misunderstandings, and awkward moments, and the film delivers these in spades, exactly as you'd expect from a teen flick of this era. Director Michael Keusch, who later became known for helming a string of direct-to-video Steven Seagal actioners, keeps things moving at a brisk pace, focusing on the gags and the central conceit rather than deep character exploration. This isn't Tootsie; it's pure bubblegum pop filmmaking.
### The Haim Charm Offensive
Let’s be honest, a big part of the draw here is Corey Haim. By 1993, his megawatt superstardom of the late 80s had cooled slightly, but he still possessed that undeniable charisma. Watching him navigate the challenges of portraying "Chrissy" is the film's main engine. Does he make a convincing girl? Not remotely, and that’s precisely the point. His lanky frame, barely disguised voice, and general air of bewildered panic are mined for laughs. There's an inherent sweetness to Haim's screen presence, even when he's stuffing bras or trying to figure out makeup, that keeps the premise from feeling mean-spirited. It’s a performance that leans heavily on his established persona – the slightly goofy, charming underdog you can't help but root for. This film actually marked one of Haim's attempts to regain footing after some well-documented struggles, adding a layer of poignancy for fans watching it today.
Nicole Eggert provides the requisite girl-next-door appeal as Marie, the unsuspecting object of Chris/Chrissy’s affection. Their scenes together have a certain awkward chemistry that works within the film's lighthearted framework. Cameron Bancroft chews the scenery effectively as both the menacing bully Kurt and the lecherous brother Keith, clearly having fun with the dual roles. His Kurt is a standard-issue 90s movie bully – all sneers and leather jackets – while Keith is just hilariously over-the-top in his pursuit of "Chrissy."
### A Slice of 90s Suburbia
Filmed primarily around Phoenix, Arizona, including scenes shot at Scottsdale High School, Just One of the Girls has that bright, sun-drenched look common to many comedies of the period. The fashion is a glorious time warp – oversized shirts, questionable patterns, and hairstyles that scream early 90s. The soundtrack, while not iconic, hits the expected beats of upbeat pop and rock cues common to the genre. It feels authentic to its time, capturing that specific brand of slightly sanitized, optimistic teen world often portrayed in movies that likely bypassed theaters for a straight-to-video release in many regions. Finding concrete budget or box office numbers for this one is tricky, suggesting it was definitely a more modest affair, likely finding its audience squarely in the home video market – the natural habitat for VHS Heaven!
The humor is broad, relying on visual gags, mistaken identities, and the inherent absurdity of Haim trying to navigate female locker rooms and sleepovers. Some jokes land better than others, and viewed through a modern lens, the premise itself might raise eyebrows. But the film approaches it with such innocence and lack of cynicism that it mostly comes across as goofy rather than offensive. It never takes itself too seriously, inviting the audience to just go along for the silly ride. Remember how straightforward these plots often felt back then? No complex subplots, just Point A (problem) to Point B (ridiculous solution) to Point C (resolution).
### Does it Hold Up?
Revisiting Just One of the Girls today is an exercise in nostalgia. It’s not a hidden masterpiece, nor is it trying to be. It’s a comfort-food movie, predictable but enjoyable, anchored by a likable lead performance from an actor many grew up watching. The cross-dressing trope has certainly been handled with more nuance elsewhere, but Haim sells the absurdity with enough charm to make it work on its own terms. It feels like discovering a slightly worn tape at the back of a shelf – familiar, maybe a little fuzzy around the edges, but capable of sparking a warm smile of recognition.
Rating: 5/10
Justification: This score reflects the film's status as a fairly standard, low-stakes 90s teen comedy. It earns points for Corey Haim's charisma, its nostalgic value, and some genuinely amusing moments derived from its silly premise. However, it's held back by predictability, broad humor that doesn't always land, and production values typical of a modest, likely direct-to-video feature. It’s not essential viewing, but for Haim fans or those craving a specific flavor of early 90s fluff, it’s a perfectly harmless trip down memory lane.
Final Thought: It’s no License to Drive, but Just One of the Girls is a quintessential Corey Haim vehicle from the VHS era – slightly awkward, undeniably dated, but possessing just enough goofy charm to make you glad you pressed play.