JOHN HUGHES: DON’T YOU FORGET ABOUT HIM
Along with everybody else of my generation, I am deeply saddened by the death of John Hughes. With his classic run of teen films in the 1980s (a genre he arguably created, more or less), he defined and stylised what it was to be a kid in the Age of Reagan. We could all identify with Hughes’s fictional cosmos of Shermer, Illinois because no matter where you were raised, high school never changed, nor did the teachers, the coaches, the parties, the parents, the cliques or the crushes. If you ever wrecked your parents’ car (I did) or skipped school to spend the day with your friends in the city (ditto), you were in a John Hughes film.
Recently on this site, Corbin Hiar discussed soundtracks that change lives. Mine was Hughes’s soundtrack to “Pretty in Pink”. I played that cassette to the point where the lettering etched off and the tape slowed down before finally breaking. You see, John Hughes wasn’t just a director; he was every band you just heard for the first time. He was the Psychedelic Furs, the Smiths, OMD, Echo and the Bunnymen and every other poster on your older sister’s wall. These bands were (and may still remain) the soundtrack to your life, and you can thank John Hughes for that. I blush to think how many times “If You Leave” figured into my teenage romance fantasies. I mean, who wouldn’t want to kiss the girl of his dreams on a glass table over a birthday cake? I’m mixing and matching here, but you get the idea.
My favourite Hughes film is perhaps one that he wished he could take back: “Weird Science.” The premise is that two horny teenage dorks can’t score so they use their computer to build Kelly LeBrock (hijinks ensue). Although Hughes directed better films (see: “Sixteen Candles”), this one is gospel if only because I first saw it with my own best friend when we were kids, and it all felt right, somehow. That’s the Hughes Effect: making something completely improbable, full of absurd and random coincidences, feel like it was taken directly from your life. This alone should be enough to put Hughes’s name alongside those like Preston Sturges, another legendary writer/director who similarly balanced the comic and sentimental to perfection.
The Hughes legacy might get lost somewhere between Matthew Broderick’s boyish smirk, Molly Ringwald’s rolling eyes or the collective anomie of the Breakfast Club, which would be a shame, because it comes at the price of ignoring Hughes’s direction (something the reclusive director was probably pleased about). His ensemble casts and energetic montages made it all too easy to forget about the man behind the camera--the guy who wrote all of those zingy one-liners. Hughes had the ability to both chronicle and create the profundities of teenage life, the ones we dismiss laughingly once we graduate, but which resonate awkwardly--freshly--when we see them on screen. As his most devoted viewers get older--and as their own heart troubles evolve--it is a pity he is no longer around to help us make sense of it all.
Picture Credit: "Sixteen Candles"
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best soundtracks of all time
August 13, 2009 - 21:04 — Matt @ Ringback Tones (not verified)I must be dating myself here, but those 80's soundtracks, the alternative to the lycra and big hair rock bands were perhaps the biggest memory I have of my high school years. In my neighbourhood it was definitely considered alternative music. It is sad to hear that the originator of that era in movies is actually gone ... although it seems such a simple formula to us now, to create such a genre where it didn't exist was truly genius.
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