Sincerely, the Breakfast Club

“The sportos, the motorheads, geeks, sluts, bloods, waistoids, dweebies, dickheads - they all adore him. They think he's a righteous dude” ~ Ferris Bueller

I can't write adequately about John Hughes. I could find some conceit to carry my point, I'm sure. I could share a list of the quotes from his films that framed my adolescence and teen years, that I continue to use as the anchor for my Facebook quotes alongside "Ramble On" and Walt Whitman and other words that make up my salad of same.

"That's very clever, sir. But what if there's a fire? I think that violating fire codes and endangering the lives of children would be unwise at this juncture in your career, sir."

And.

"What in God's name was that ruckus?

"What ruckus?"

"I was just in my office and I heard a ruckus."

"Could you describe the ruckus, sir?"

And.

"Yes. I always carry this. much. shit. in my bag."

I could tell you the people I think I'm most like in the films, which seems to be the thing to do on the internet in response to his death.

And when two badass women opt to assign me mine, who am I to argue anyway?

(I actually voted for a mix of Alison and Brian (Ally Sheedy and Anthony Michael Hall) from the Breakfast Club with a dash of Watts from Some Kind of Wonderful, but whatever, little quiz and Laura. I guess I have to watch this again.)

I have seen the Breakfast Club more than one hundred times, more than the Wizard of Oz, I'd bet, and maybe more than The Sound of Music. I know every single line and visual cue in the film. I can recite it while it rolls along, something an ex challenged me to and lost, badly. I can mentally put my fist in the air like John Bender does at the end and I can feel the agitation because I'm quite certain, in my adult knowledge of endings that aren't always happy, that they did not all talk in the halls on Monday. John and Claire probably didn't date for very long, and Alison and Andy probably didn't last either (and I really hope she kept the patch from his jacket.)

It doesn't really matter. Maybe they're all off into the ether of adulthood except maybe they're awkward Facebook friends now. Maybe, except John Bender isn't because he doesn't believe in Facebook because why in the hell would he put all of that shit about himself online and freaking Claire does too many quizzes anyway, what, doesn't she have a life?

I also tear up every time Anthony Michael Hall kisses that paper he wrote the essay on at the end, because if you're going to wrap up something I love perfectly, it's going to be with something you wrote so well, even you know it so much that you congratulate yourself for it because you know no one's watching.

I always hoped he'd make another movie, something to bring it all full circle for us.

I loved John Hughes for the stuff he wrote, for the words he put in the mouths of characters just about my age at a time that summarily sucked for me. I disliked high school, for the most part. I was not a sunny person. I was socially awkward (that sounds really terrible. I hate that phrase even though I just used it, maybe because in some cases I feel like it so still applies, and it just means I'm sort of abnormally normal. The confidence thing? Lies. All lies, and ulcers, and utter denial, but I own my ability to fake it.) I was, in fact, quite the basket case. But what I always got was funny and I was a drama geek so that helped ease the pain there towards the end.

And really, it's funny to speak of all of this now. It seems pointless because it's been dealt with and worked through and I'm totally well-adjusted about it. It's no big revelation. It was such a long time ago. Oceans of water that won't fit under any existing bridges ago.

I survived on music, basically. That was what I did. And Cinnabon. And jean jackets. And spite.

I still think Simple Minds were one of the most underrated pop bands ever. This is the song from the movie, of course - from Live Aid, no less - but "Alive and Kicking," are you kidding me?

I had a little bit of a debate with one of my internet people yesterday about the loss of John Hughes. He wondered why people cared, if it wasn't a little much, if any of us whinging on about his 80s work could speak to any films he'd made recently, if it made any sense to grieve someone we didn't know personally? And I shared back with him a thought I've been carting around since Michael Jackson died, when everyone freaked out about people grieving a person accused of the things he was accused of. And in this case, in a very different circumstance involving a very different celebrity from a similar era, it is only the same in that it's not necessarily about the person himself. It's about something he created that had an effect on you at a very impressionable time, or is so evocative of that time that you can't separate it from your life experience.

You might not have known John Hughes, but his work has weight and meaning for thousands if not millions of people who grew up in some small way interpreting worlds in the light of his stories.  The crazy things that happened to Michael Jackson in the aftermath of his most intense popularity - much of it at his own hands - couldn't erase knowing where you were and what was going on with you when Thriller dropped. These people and their work are for many people cultural and historical markers, and the grief for them is entirely selfish, which doesn't make it any less valid.

And whereas John Hughes may have been productive in other ways since then, creatively and otherwise, that was a different time and landscape. The era passed. He may have done other things - and I'll admit I have no idea - but after the films he had a part in making in the 80s/early 90s, he really didn't have to to cement his value or his legacy. (Just like I wish a lot of times John Irving had quit writing after A Prayer for Owen Meany, with the exception of Widow for One Year. That one worked.)

Because I was a dork, I used to make a mark in my journal whenever I rewatched this movie. I liked his other stuff too, of course. Planes, Trains and Automobiles is one of the funniest movies ever made. Everyone I knew including me loved Sixteen Candles and Ferris Bueller's Day Off. The lists have been made and the memories set this week, and it's safe to say most people conscious of pop culture in this time will never forget which films were his.

But for me, what John Hughes did most notably was to give me 97 simple minutes of seven characters at Shermer High School in Shermer, Illinois. I don't know all the reasons why it worked for and resonated with me 25 years ago, but it's something I can purely say that I love. It always makes me laugh and relate to a time when I thought I really, honestly, was all of those people in some small way, when I knew my perfect boy was a mix of all three in the movie, with some extra Bender, admittedly. When I knew I'd never be Claire but I'd never quite be Alison either, because showers were entirely too important to me and if I died my hair it was a tragic run-in with Sun-In, not black. It allowed me to safely go to darker places than was allowed in my school, in my circle at the time. That really hasn't changed very much. And I'll still always be sorry that he never brought it full circle, as much as I know that's part of the point. 

Finally, if you read nothing else about this man this week or ever, I'd recommend Sincerely, John Hughes, a post by a woman who sought him out as a pen pal when she was just about my age in the 80s. He kept in touch with her for years. It's a fabulous story, and makes me, as I can tell my doubting internet friend, truly miss him as a kickass human being as well as a powerful creative force. There are 1,058 comments. It's that good, and that real.

Comments

[Secret Admirer]

I loved John Hughes's movies. One of my favorites has always been "She's Having a Baby"; this movie was touching in a deep and personal way, as my sister was pregnant with her oldest son then. I was going to be an uncle for the first time. No matter how many times I've seen it, I always cry when, in the movie, she's in the hospital, during the complications at birth (of course, Kate Bush's "This Woman's Work" being played during that part of the movie doesn't help).

But, the movie I connect with the most, the #1 that stands out of the rest, is "The Breakfast Club". 1985. A very dark period of my life (I've had darker moments since...). I was suffering from depresion, even had thoughts and ideas of wanting to kill myself. TBC...great movie for that! I definitely identified with Ally Sheedy's character, Alison, the outcast. But, I also felt a like John Bender, inside.
Even though I don't suffer those same problems, that dark place will permanently remain locked, I still identify with the characters from TBC, and I guess I always will. The pain and suffering of depression is over, so when I watch TBC, it's like visiting an old friend I haven't seen in a long time.

"Dear Mr. Vernon,
we accept the fact that we had to sacrifice a whole Saturday in detention for whatever it is we did wrong, but we think you're crazy for making us write an essay telling you who we think we are.
You see us as you want to see us, in the simplest terms, in the most convenient definitions. But what we found out, is that each one of us is a brain,
and an athlete,
and a basketcase,
a princess,
and a criminal.

Does that answer your question?

Sincerely yours,

The Breakfast Club."

[Grace]

I've been thinking a lot about The Breakfast Club since I heard about John Hughes' death. I'm actually a little bit too young for it, but it resonated with me, too, even if it was just on TBS when I knew it. There is something particular and special about creating these characters that everyone can relate to, even if they themselves aren't a brain, an athlete, a basketcase, a criminal, or a princess.

And the dandruff for snow thing is still one of the funniest things ever to be on film.

[LA Cochran]

The Breakfast Club captures high school angst so well and the dialog is spot on. It left a lasting impression.

[AnnQ]

John Hughes was AMAZINGLY talented. His movies are 80's Classics which still translate well into today...how many movies can do that?

[Becky]

Nice tribute, Laurie. I'll always love John Hughes for giving me Jake Ryan and Farmer Ted.

[Loukia]

Great post... I too loved John Hughes, and all his movies. And I have read that post you linked to, also.
Loving your blog... you're a great writer... :)

[cayla]

wshat did that kids essay say at the end?