Why the "Stoner Character" is Problematic

By Julia Berman (Marketing)

Why do cold-blooded murderers like Dexter or Joe Goldberg get entire exposés of their “complicated” inner-lives while the “stoner” is placed in a rigid character box? The movie or TV stoner will typically live in his (usually male) mother’s basement with no ambitions other than traveling to Amsterdam, accidentally receiving a shipment of the world’s best ganja, or meeting Snoop Dog.  Why is this the case? And what implications does this stereotype have? Let’s dig in. 

The irony 

Even if you don’t enjoy getting high, the potential is worth recognizing. Consider what it’s done for people like Bill Gates, Barack Obama, Steve Jobs, Elon Musk, Paul McCartney, Lady Gaga, Bob Dylan, Abraham Lincoln, Morgan Freeman, Michael Bloomberg, Bill Maher — and there are plenty more, trust me.

Cannabis users are a far cry from the media’s stereotype. First of all, the entertainment industry has LONG relied on good-ole-bud for inspiration. An incredible 75% of popular music references the substance. Still, Hollywood paints the weed-user as either a goofy, baffled friend or the edgy vagabond almost all of the time. 

The stoner is always defined by their weed habit. And to those that are thinking it -- no, Pineapple Express and Harold and Kumar are NOT exceptions to this rule. Both films poke fun at stoner stupidity while pinning the blame of their impulsive decisions on marijuana. In real life it’s not so clear-cut. Plus, in contrast, weed is helpful for controlling hasty decision-making. 

Let’s take a look back 

Things have changed quickly. Just 10 years ago, only 48% of Americans believed that weed use should be legal. Today, that figure is 67%. Demonization of the substance has been debunked. Awareness of its wide-range of benefits are commonplace. The media, however, is lagging behind in depicting this reality. 

Comedies continue employing the 19th century “funny drunk” trope for stoners. A cliche that has been discredited thanks to groups like AA and MADD. Unlike the drunk though, the stoner has more comedic prowess. They’re less likely to kill someone, and their habit is not a life-threatening or crippling addiction. TV and movies posit that potheads are the tamed lion versions of drunks. Valid, that does make them funnier. The light-hearted option works wonders for funny dialogue and plots. Still, the question is even more baffling then -- why can’t stoner characters be both funny and have depth? 

Another way to look at it is that stoners represent the classic literary device of the “fool.” They can be dumb, wise, or, at times, other-worldly. All in all though, they never get to take center stage the leading dynamic and sympathetic character. In dramas, the stoner is treated even more poorly. They’re aimless losers in desperate need of guidance. 

The Big Lebowski uses both sides of the coin. The Dude is an unemployed loser who smokes weed habitually without much going on beyond his bowling team. In a way, he finds some spirituality by following the quest to replace his rug. Ultimately though, we still laugh at him as a hapless fool who we could run intellectual circles around. 

The female stoner 

Now, for the fun part. The “female stoner” is a rarity. What does she look like? She’s surrounded by an entourage of male stoners as a somewhat androgenous stand-in. She’ll nod her head or laugh at her male stoner friends. Such as Busy Philipps character, Kim, on Freaks and Geeks. 

In other instances, the female stoner is a teenage or adult woman in desperate need of change. She can be saved from her slacker ways by the right people. Of course, this comes with the assumption that this character wants to change. Take Tai in Clueless. Cher, an actually problematic person, sees the “good” in her and wants to “help.” OK, I know this is a painfully obvious, main plot-point. But think about the role of weed here. It’s synonymous with being a loser. For instance, Cher instantly rejects Tai’s stoner love interest, Travis, who’s actually a pretty chill, sweet dude. There’s an urgency for “normalization” underlying the film. While teen drinking and shacking up with your step brother is fine and dandy, smoking weed means you’re an outcast. 

All-in-all, the stoner girl no better than the Ice Queen, Psycho Ex-girlfriend, Femme Fatal, Damsel in Distress, and Manic Pixie Dream Girl.  

In search of a more realistic depiction 

In stark contrast, weed is used more in Broad City than in (well I don’t know the stats here but I’ll guess) 99% of TV shows. Still, it’s not a negative catalyst as with shows like Weeds. Marijuana doesn’t define the protagonists, and it’s not in-your-face propaganda about joining a cult-like community of hippies. It’s simply a love-friendship story about two women dealing with young adulthood in New York City. I’d say it resembles reality 100x over some TV show about a pothead’s foolish mishaps. 

In Broad City, the insights shine far beyond its intercuts of lighting up. Weed’s role is never to dull the leading ladies. Rather, the show asserts that habitual use isn’t character or plot defining. There’s usually more at hand, as with real life. Broad City successfully tackles bigger and more nuanced topics. Weed sits along the sidelines as a supporter. It enters the humor spotlight but that’s never a central theme. 

Why it matters 

Imagine if we were all defined by one habit or preference. Wouldn’t that suck? I’d even argue that it can be damaging. Perhaps if the media released more accurate, dynamic portrayals of people who harmlessly smoke weed, then those who are sheltered or removed from it could have a more comprehensive understanding. Stoners aren’t just the spaced-out kid on a skateboard or the high school friend in rehab. More often actually, they’re the CEOs of the companies you love, your creative uncle, your favorite musician, and maybe yourself. You probably already know this though, and that’s the point.