American-born film director John Hughes (Jr.) died yesterday of a heart attack. He was 59.
As any well-respected culture vulture (lowercase) knows, John Hughes was a film directing icon whose 80s films continue to speak to each new generation of teen angst. After the success of Sixteen Candles in 1984, Hughes wrote, directed, and produced a string of movies (Pretty in Pink, Weird Science, Ferris Bueller's Day Off) based on high school experiences that forever changed the way youth were portrayed on the silver screen.
When this Culture Vulture first saw The Breakfast Club in 1995, it was a poorly-edited version running on TBS (I remember finding it particularly amusing during one instance where they bleeped out "hole" instead of "ass.") I was 11 years old, didn't quite understand what "riding the hobby horse" meant, and had never seen anyone smoke pot before. These kids were badass. The film was a cult classic even back then, but this film became my inspiration. I memorized nearly the entire thing, and 15 years later, can still quote essential scenes, like the one where Emilio Estevez's "Athlete" character and Ally Sheedy's "Basketcase" walk to the teacher's lounge to buy sodas for the rest of the group of detentionees.
"What's your poison?" he asks her, "What do you drink?"
Her response? "Vodka."
"Vodka?...When do you drink vodka?"
She breezes past him coyly, "Whenever."
"A lot?" he wants to know.
"Tons."
Hughes captured not only the quick-wittedness (and endearing awkwardness) of American teens, but also the reality of the changing culture of the families and towns they were growing up in. For the first time (or at least the first time done with purpose) a film took the perspective of young people and ran with it, faulting no one but the jaded adults who served only as background characters and aggravators. This was a story that addressed stereotypes, the same ones lazy filmmakers continue to use today, and thwarted them, while still giving them purpose.
A writer can only hope to write such richly realistic dialogue as that of John Hughes. Although the man moved himself out of the public eye shortly after the blockbuster success of Home Alone, I rested easier knowing that someone like that existed. His presence will be missed, but his legacy will live on in our hearts, minds, memories, and in every current film director's sad attempt to tell the stories of American youth as poignantly as Mr. John Hughes.
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