John Hughes, R.I.P.
By Brett Hogan 8/8/09
I didn’t think that my return to Saltystix would be such a somber one. I speak of the loss of a great filmmaker and writer, John Hughes, a man who captured the fundamental nature of adolescence in America. He single handedly defined and influenced what came to be a generation lost between the grandeur of the baby boomers and the excitable Generation Y. Who can say they have grown up without wishing they were Ferris Buehler or identifying themselves with the members of the Breakfast Club? And while my life lacked a romance like Sixteen Candles or perhaps the imagination of Weird Science, I and every teenager, have seen our social questions be answered by his films.
But the loss, for me, is two fold. Hughes created high school stories based on his time at Glenbrook North High School, my alma mater. His settings were the halls I walked daily for four years. My water tower has periodically displayed the words “Save Ferris” either as a prank or as a result of more philanthropic motives. In college, I introduced my hometown as “where Ferris Buehler lives” and my high school as “where the Breakfast Club meets.” Sure, I got my share of odd looks from that, but that was the closeness I had to Hughes’ films.
His films were, in a word, unique. They might not have been critically acclaimed, but they all possess the qualities that teens flock to: catchy, relevant music, meaningful conversations, themes, and problems, but most importantly, characters that everyone can relate to. His films all lay claim to the protagonist that we want to be. As a kid, I wanted nothing more than to foil burglars with strategically placed toy cars and cans of paint. As I got older, I reveled in becoming the popular Ferris Buehler, a high school bad-ass that was far from immortal. But, the most important aspect of his films is that they have stood the test of time. His films have seamlessly translated from generation to generation and will continue to do so for years to come. I hope my children, confused by the trials of adolescence, pull my copy of the Breakfast Club off the shelf and receive the help I am unable to give.
However, it would be foolish to not acknowledge Hughes’ writing career. He crafted two Christmas masterpieces in Home Alone and Christmas Vacation and the overly zealous vacationing Griswold’s, making our families sane by comparison (no easy feat). More impressively, he continually was able to create hit after hit, each targeting the same demographic, but branching into several pockets of it. He did it with class, poise, and remarkably realistic characters and dialogue.
Perhaps I am overselling a man who was regarded as one dimensional and shallow by his critics. But how can one so connected with adolescence be anything but? Regardless, the legacy Hughes leaves behind is that of a man who commanded 80s films connecting with teens while discovering actors and actresses and leading them to fame. Rest in peace, John Hughes, a generation mourns the loss of its leader through dark times.