I wish I had something profound to say about the passing of John Hughes. I tried writing something about how The Breakfast Club changed my life--about the character of Brian Johnson made me feel like someone out there actually understood what my life was about at the time: the nerdiness, the loneliness, the clubs, and the unbearable parental pressure to succeed and be the best. But it's hard to come up with something that will make sense to anyone but me. I can maybe explain why I loved it, but there's no way for me to make you FEEL the way I FEEL. I loved that movie. I wore out two VHS copies in the span of about five years--there were periods in my life when I watched that movie nearly every day, sometimes twice on weekends. I loved each and every character (it cemented my love for vulnerable bad boys, which also changed my life, though perhaps not for the better on that count.) I could recite nearly every single line of dialogue along with the film. Even though I was 14 and it was 1995, the feelings and situations applied to me and my life despite being written more than a decade before.
Although I also have deep affection for many of Hughes's other works, particularly Ferris Bueller's Day Off and Sixteen Candles, The Breakfast Club was my very very favorite movie from age 14 - 19, and is still among my top-ten all-time faves. I can't believe that Hughes is gone and there will never be another entry from Shermer Illinois. (Hopefully--death to anyone who considers remaking any of his legendary films...the last thing the world needs is S1xt66n Candlez starring Hannah Montana and Zac Efron with a Jonas brother playing Farmer Ted)
Thank you, John Hughes.
Thank you for Anthony Michael Hall in every role he played for you.
Thank you for "Danke Shoen" and "Twist and Shout".
Thank you for Robert Downey Jr. with a bra on his head.
Thank you for Long Duk Dong.
Thank you for Jake Ryan.
Thank you for some of John Candy's best and most heartwarming work.
Thank you for understanding teenage girls.
Thank you for Cameron's father's car.
Thank you for the last ten minutes of Home Alone, which makes my father giggle like a schoolgirl.
Thank you for the flaming marshmallow on Mr. Wilson's forehead.
Thank you for making my family's Christmas seem not so deranged.
Thank you (sort of) for John Bender.
Thank you for the brain, the athlete, the basketcase, the princess, and the criminal.
Thank you for making being a teenager not suck quite so badly, for letting me know I wasn't the only one.