Generation Hughes: Remembering John Hughes and “The Breakfast Club”
"...and these children that you spit on, as they try to change their worlds, are immune to your consultations. They're quite aware of what they are going through...” — David Bowie
On August 6, 2009, John Hughes — screenwriter, director, producer, chronicler of a generation — died of a heart attack while taking an early morning walk in New York City. He was only 59-years-old.
For those his cinematic creations influenced and spoke directly to, and those who were stunned and baffled by this sudden, shocking and tragic news, the age gap is boundless.
To me, Hughes served as an inspiration — his talents, particularly as a writer, were limitless and never ceased to make an indelible impact on this impressionable cad who still marvels at what levels the man’s sense of humor and abilities took him as an artist. When news of John’s passing spread, it hit hard, not just for me, but all of us. Hughes was the adult in our young lives who scaled the walls of expression, dealt a Herculean blow to hard rules and rammed a rebellious middle finger straight in the face of authority, both in his films and as an auteur. With his finger on the pulse of our generation, he was our Peter Pan.
“Think of the tender things that we were working on.” – Simple Minds
My original intention with this piece was to condense a rather lengthy personal reflection on Hughes I’ve been working on for the last several months. I never knew the man, but, like all of us, felt drawn to his extraordinary body of work — each of his films reached out and spoke to me. And from a writer’s perspective, I was greatly inspired. His was a style that is, indeed, a rarity. If not completely unique.
Like most of you reading this, I’m a part of what I like to call “Generation Hughes,” a club I’ll proudly be a lifelong member of.
Nearing the 15th anniversary of Hughes’ death, I figured I’d focus on one of the man’s best-known and beloved works, “The Breakfast Club,” and its impact on a generation still reeling over the loss of an icon. Hughes’ cinematic resume was as eclectic as they came, but it was his teen movies that garnered him the notoriety bestowed on him. And the best of the bunch being this tale about five dissimilar characters locked in a room together, coming to grips with and, by the end, shattering adolescent stereotypes, as foreshadowed in the film’s opening credit sequence when Bowie’s lyrics to “Changes” are blasted outward before our eyes.
I still remember the first time I experienced “The Breakfast Club” at a second-run theater in Villa Park, Illinois, prodded by friends of mine who had the luck of seeing it at the far more extravagant first-rate theaters in the area, each assaulting me with ceaseless accolades for this detention hall film as if it was the Second Coming. I will admit the first time seeing the film didn’t impress me much; I remember finding it forced, dragging and, as my adolescent ego took hold, self-indulgent. Those were my young rebel days and I found myself offended an adult would have the audacity to try and pretend to be one of us.
But as the old saying goes, time does tell. And tell it did .
Today, I am older and (somewhat) wiser. And “The Breakfast Club” has become one of the most important films of the 1980s and of my generation. And here’s my attempt to explain why…
For decades, Hollywood has had a nauseating track record of releasing films that make far-from-valiant attempts to understand and destroy teenage stereotypes, yet have always proven themselves grossly patronizing and unrealistic. Teenagers were exploited and written as clichéd weaklings who didn’t know better when it came to their parents and authority figures digging them out of whatever “ruckus” they found themselves in. These dramatized versions of us knew nothing about responsibility (wrong!), they knew nothing about independence (wrong!), they knew nothing about love (you’ve gotta be kidding me!).
John Hughes had enough of this and, with one deft stroke, penned what would become his defining opus — a serious deconstruction of stereotypes that looks at five kids of different social statuses being punished in Saturday detention for their own indiscretions.
Released after Hughes’ previous foray into teenage hearts and minds, “Sixteen Candles,” but written years before, “The Breakfast Club” is very different from almost every other entry into what was (at the time) a burgeoning genre. Instead of relying on the staples of sex, crass humor, and brainless plots, this movie focuses on five dissimilar characters and is almost entirely dialogue-driven without a single dick or fart joke to be found anywhere. It's a story about communication gaps, teen isolation, and the angst that everyone (regardless of how self-assured they seem) experiences during the years that function as a transition from the freedom of adolescence to the responsibilities of adulthood.
“What was interesting about “The Breakfast Club” was the fact that it took teenagers’ concerns seriously. It was intense, it didn’t condescend to its audience; it was a serious film about young peoples’ emotions. And that’s what made it punk rock.” – Diablo Cody, Academy Award-winning screenwriter of “Juno”
The characters trapped in detention are all very different individuals. Hughes sets them up as traditional stereotypes, then delights in slowly peeling back the layers, showing how each suffers from surprisingly similar problems. There's the tenacious, contrite jock, Andrew Clark (Emilio Estevez); the graceful, disconsolate prom queen, Claire Standish (Molly Ringwald); the self-effacing bookworm, Brian Johnson (Anthony Michael Hall); the brazen, impudent rebel, John Bender (Judd Nelson); and the despondent outcast, Allison Reynolds (Ally Sheedy). It turns out that none of them communicates well with their parents, all are under tremendous pressure from their peers, and each is beset by angst about the future. Serious subjects, but few films before or after have dealt with these issues as intelligently as Hughes did in “The Breakfast Club.”
Each character has his or her own problems. And as insignificant as they might appear, to a teenager, they are everything. This is what Hughes captures best in his films. If anything, the teenage years are a time of self-consciousness and angst. When we look back at it, it seems a little ridiculous. Yet, at that point in our lives, it is important. And the adults in their/our lives just didn’t get it.
Some critique the ending of the film for being a little too contrived, something I no longer agree with. In any other film, yesterday or today, they would have all become best lifelong friends. Part of the genius behind “The Breakfast Club” is that it admits things we don’t want to hear, like come Monday, these five sad, angry, lonely characters who had poured their hearts out to each other probably won’t be friends.
In the end, it’s up to each of us to decide for ourselves how we want the stories of these five characters to unfold post-detention. Hughes ends the film on a high note for each of them, all of them discovering feelings, emotions, strengths and weaknesses they never knew they had. And in the end, all is well. Love is found, courage is garnered, masks are removed — and for the first time, these five souls discover who they really are and what they’re capable of outside of their social (and anti-social) shells.
No one is pre-destined for anything. We all have the option to dream and make those dreams come true. And this is the message Hughes so masterfully sends home to each of us.
Few will disagree that “The Breakfast Club” is a great film. It's virtually impossible not to be drawn into the world of these characters. The depiction of high school is evocative because it's so accurate and grounded in reality. In “The Breakfast Club,” Hughes has created a surprisingly enduring motion picture that is still effective nearly 40 years after its theatrical release.
The writer of 37 screenplays, director of eight films and producer of 23 others, Hughes has left an inerasable mark on Hollywood. But to ask any one of us who grew up in the 1980s what the name John Hughes meant to them as an individual will usually garner three words in response:
“He gets me.”
John Hughes was, “in the simplest terms, in the most convenient definitions,” the man!
Sincerely yours,
The Breakfast Club
