Just as a growing coterie of mannered young ladies seems to be rustling about in period dramas, this comedy welcomes back the Ditz. Dumber than a box of hair, best friends Romy (Mira Sorvino) and Michele (Lisa Kudrow) knit such twisted logic that they begin to make scary sense. Dressed in killer outfits that make Contempo Casuals look like Talbot's, these party girls gush over their collective cuteness. "We're just honest, not conceited!" beams Michele. Then they express ironic disbelief over what they perceive to be the rest of the world's cluelessness: "Duh!" But when class misanthrope Heather (Janeane Garofalo) informs them of their upcoming 10th reunion, Romy and Michele suddenly question how their carefree existence stacks up. With just two weeks to the big night, they put their airheads together in a ludicrous plot to reinvent themselves.

Indeed, reinventing the teen angst comedy imposes its own challenges. The concept of puberty as purgatory has been as thoroughly covered in recent cinema as, well, the homecoming court in the school paper. Heathers, Fast Times at Ridgemont High, Clueless, and Welcome to the Dollhouse all slyly skewer the requisite cliques. As for revenge, it's hard to top the blood-spattered taffeta of Carrie. Nonetheless, former Simpsons producer Mirkin and screenwriter Robin Schiff unleash a quirky film that's a rare combination of dumb fluff and smart irreverence.

Romy and Michele's High School Reunion nails the essence of Reagan-era youth, from the smirkingly nostalgic (is there anyone who really knows the words to "Footloose?") to the hysterically slapstick (Michele inflicts "hairlash" on the prom dance floor by whipping her Madonna-inspired ponytail). The comedy is smart enough to back off from out-and-out exploiting its peroxide bimbos. Instead, it grants the twosome split-seconds of ingenuity, a sarcastic edge, and plenty of heart while never making them rue their sluggish cerebrums.

The farce, however, snatches up every other chance for laughs. It rewinds to Romy and Michele's high-school days on the social fringe, fast-forwards to their fortnight of frantic makeover, and then on to the eponymous event. Along the way, there are moments of aching resonance and irresistible satire, including Michele's awkward attempts to hold a conversation in her squeaky back brace. The comedy bops from silly to surreal, slipping into an uproarious, thoughtfully directed dream sequence before finally reveling in the cathartic humor of the actual reunion. The plot totters as rarely as Romy and Michele do in their platform heels, but it does fall for the tendency to force '70s sit-com references. Similarly, the film perpetuates the tiresome myth that we women look to Frito-Lay and M&Ms/Mars in times of crisis.

The irrepressibly kooky leads assert their comedic skills with ease. Kudrow, with her off-kilter face and deadpan delivery, aces the Friends transition from spacy Phoebe to even spacier Michele. Likewise, froggy-voiced voluptuary Sorvino exhibits remarkable versatility and a genuine flair as the slightly sharper Romy. But it's a cussing, chain-smoking Garofalo as the Girl Most Likely To Take Prozac who swipes every scene with her trademark acidity. Rounding out the fine cast is Alan Cumming as an erection-addled geek, Julia Campbell as the snobby nemesis, and Vincent Ventresca as the gridiron heartthrob.

Energetic, fresh, and wacky, this comedy captures all the dread and exhilaration of high school and all the dread and exhilaration of returning 10 years later. But as Romy and Michele reconcile their past, present, and future, the film becomes less a revenge fantasy than a sidesplitting ode to the bonds of lifelong friendship. As rock-and-roll bard Jon Bon Jovi so eloquently urged the Class of 1987, "Never Say Goodbye."