Eighth in the series: Morning Becomes Reagan: A
revisiting of 1980s pop (and political) culture
* “Summer Lite” is a new subhead
for, you guessed it, light viewing for the summer. (School is done; time for
fun.) Just as the films won’t be too demanding, I won’t go to too great a
length to review them.
[Edit 5/23/14.]
I remember seeing this film in the theater, and I was fairly impressed with
it then. While I am not a super-fan of director/writer John Hughes (1950-2009), I recognize his importance in the
post-Vietnam history of American film. And while I am not a freak for teen
films, this is definitely one of the better ones, to put in a pantheon with such
cult favorites as the very different Heathers
(1989), Clueless (1995), and Mean Girls (2004), among others. (I never
saw Fast Times at Ridgemont High [1982],
one of the forerunners of knowing post-Vietnam teen films.) This film is
arguably John Hughes’ best (he did things ranging from Sixteen Candles [1984], which has received notice recently for its
30th anniversary, to Planes,
Trains and Automobiles [1987], and Home
Alone [1990].)
One notable thing about Hughes’
films, at least several of the ones I’ve mentioned, is that he can capture
young viewpoints (and concomitantly make adults look a bit like boobs without
completely caricaturing them) in a way that dignifies teens (hence his appeal
to this audience). He can also toss in some gross-out gags (such as related to
impolite bodily functions), but these aren’t, in some sense, as coarse or,
definitely, as tendentiously included as these seem to be in films today. In
fact, in Breakfast Club you almost
wouldn’t notice them (and the masturbation details related to character Brian
Johnson I think I missed when seeing this film in ’85).
This film also has a couple
distinctions that mark it as a true Reagan-era artifact: first is that it is
one of the trio of films that set up Molly Ringwald’s status as teen hero in the 1980s (the other films were Sixteen Candles, which Hughes wrote and directed, and Pretty in Pink [1986], which Hughes
wrote and produced but didn’t direct; Ringwald also made the cover of Time magazine in 1986). The second
distinction is that it represents a selection of what became known as the “Brat
Pack,” a set of young stars of the mid-1980s that, from film to film, varied a
bit in membership (End note 1).
Present here were notables
listed in the character roster given below; future members of the Brat Pack would
include Demi Moore and Rob Lowe, among others, in St. Elmo’s Fire (1985). These films tied in to other modes of pop
culture enough that songs featured in the soundtrack could be radio (and MTV) hits
without being merely “for movies” songs. For The Breakfast Club, the big hit was “Don’t You (Forget About Me)” by the rock group Simple Minds, which I remember
from radio (and MTV) play and rather liked. (In those days, MTV was all about
music videos, and from May 1984 until February 1986, I shared a house with law
students where we had cable TV, a relative rarity in those days, and I could
see MTV when it was at its height in terms of cutting-edge music videos.)
(St. Elmo’s Fire featured an eponymous song [actually, “St. Elmo’s Fire (Man in Motion)”], performed by Canadian
musician John Parr and written by David Foster, that had the distinction of showing
misunderstanding what actual St. Elmo’s fire is. The lyric talks about it
“burning in me,” but the term normally refers to ignis fatuus, or the light
given off by incandescent swamp gas. This though the movie writers, as far as I
know, didn’t mean the term that way.)
The phenomenon of high school types
I don’t know if this is so true
overseas, but the phenomenon of there being “types” of personalities that
cohere in subgroups in high school seems to be have going on for generations,
and is a staple of post-Vietnam high school movies (whether satires or not). At
my high school in Vernon Township, N.J., which I attended from 1975 to 1980 (my
eighth-grade class attended the school the first year it opened, though
technically we weren’t in high school), there were only three types: “jocks,” who were basically the athlete types;
“rednecks,” who were essentially the good students, or anyone who wasn’t a
“jock” or “pothead” (I was among the “rednecks”); and the “potheads.” (Whether
the “redneck” term was meant to reflect on us being in a semi-rural school, I
don’t know. For one thing, the term was usually used by the potheads, who of
course went to the same semi-rural school; and not only that, but in the
potheads’ slovenly ways of wearing concert T-shirts and, typically, their
winter coats indoors throughout the cooler months, they looked arguably at least as hick-ish as anyone else
among the students in school.)
We had no “preps,” which as a
category I only found out about (and heard all kinds of cultural effluvia on, especially
in mainstream media in the 1980s) once I got to college. We had no
“princesses,” which the films Heathers
and Mean Girls (and even Clueless) seem to suggest are as
inevitably a part of high school as is the American flag. One interesting thing
I found, once I got to George Washington University, was the phenomenon of
JAPs—“Jewish American princess” or
“…prince”—which seemed to be typical of high schools in more upscale areas,
usually closer to New York and Philadelphia. (In the 1980s, this group very
roughly paralleled the preps, in terms of their attending upscale-area high
schools and some of the broad opprobrium they attracted. Incidentally, when I
get to talk about my college roommate Alan L., I will be all too willing to
explain the background and specifics of his once characterizing me as a “greasy
prep,” which I didn’t 100 percent, or passionately, object to. [For one thing, there was a heck of a lot more that was critical, and nastier, that came out of his mouth toward me.] )
There was a certain cultural
aspect that interested me about Molly Ringwald in 1985—when I was much more
impelled to focus my critical eyes on college culture—and no longer had such
interest in “squaring with” the provocative and unsettling aspects of high
school (which could have reflected my own “misfit” qualities as well as others’)—in
terms of what I would embrace in pop-culture consciousness and “debate” or in
my own creative efforts. I think that, regarding Ringwald, I probably
thought—more or less as I might today—that Hughes’ having her represent (in Breakfast Club more than he ever did in Sixteen Candles) a cross between the
princess subgroup and the prep group was a bit artificial, but not too
preposterous that you couldn’t accept it. It was interesting to me that
Ringwald was presented in Hughes’ films—and came off—as a very relatable, if
still somehow refined and ethereal, young woman—a sort of girl fans could both
look up to and see as “just like them.” I am almost 100 percent sure she is of
Jewish background, and yet she wasn’t presented this way.
And her redhead aspect brings up
a somewhat related point. It is interesting that, in post-Vietnam cinema, when
a Jewish female actress seems unlike the more common view of Jewish young
women, she takes roles, and is styled, as something not at all Jewish, or not
typically Jewish. Now, when you consider actresses like Julie Kavner, with her appearance and voice, you know she will
all too willingly occupy roles as some kind of Jewish woman, whether on TV’s Rhoda in the 1970s or in several of
Woody Allen’s films. Yet starting with Goldie Hawn,
notable Jewish actresses with either blonde or red hair, or otherwise “atypical
of Jews” in appearance and manner, take roles that either omit the ethnic
identity entirely, or don’t make much of an issue of it. (Hawn has mixed
ethnicity, according to her Wikipedia article;
her mother was Jewish, with parents from Hungary; her father, a Presbyterian,
is a descendant of a man who signed the Declaration of Independence.) (By the way, this is a discussion that can be done with a lot more thoroughness and subtlety than I seem to use here, but my more relevant points will come along before long.)
In Ringwald’s case, it seems she
fit the bill perfectly as a sort of “girl next-door” of a rather unusual mien,
with, as a broader phenomenon, red hair seeming—as it typically (and rather
stupidly) does—to connote some special quality, over the years and across
cultures (End note 2). Thus Ringwald fit Hughes’ category for her as the
slightly melancholy, gently mystique-bearing, and visually intriguing
sweetheart in his films, and developed quite a fan base as a result. And then,
though Ringwald worked for years afterward, she never again had the presence
and prestige in U.S. films that she did in the mid-1980s.
Even if you don’t entirely warm
to this analysis, I think it’s fair to say the film, while sharp in its wit and
humor, seemed a bit posturing in 1985 with how it presented the student types.
But, more positively, this is the sort of thing that—as such a film settles
into cult status over the years, with younger people rediscovering it and
eating it up like an old comic book—you can forgive for being “off” in its
cultural analysis as it may have been regarded on first release, and you can
respect for how “more than half-full” the film is rather than lacking. (This is
true for any film of decades or so ago, which might have been controversial in
its time, especially on points that people could get passionate about, and
which in modern times becomes more of a historical artifact that people get
fond of for different reasons, depending on whether they were alive or
culturally aware when it was released, or not.)
Another provocative character is
John Bender, played by Judd Nelson. Bender is
equivalent to what would have been the “pothead” in my late-’70s high school. I
think that in 1985, I maybe found his character a bit artificial, a bit of a
creative pile-up of characteristics and gestures, but today I find him quite
amusing. In fact, he seems to steal the show for the first 50 or 60 percent of
the film, and even the 2008 DVD extras remark on how showy the performance is.
Not that I forgive the completely potheads of Vernon Township of, say, 1978
(any more than someone would completely forgive what was downright bullying
behavior); but when you see a film try to sum up what the “drama” was in high
school for a fairly broad audience by the ameliorating alchemy of art, the John
Bender character provides a closely enough observed example that the humor of
his obstreperous behavior comes forth more than the specific “hurts” we retain
from our own personal experience of high school.
That is, portraying a noisy punk
in a comic film is a paradox: such a person would be provoking and a bit vile
in real life, no less for stirring up strong reactions in his equally young peers;
but the negative qualities get sanded down, and the humor beneath the
self-dramatization becomes salient in the portrayal. (Interestingly, Nelson is
Jewish, but this isn’t really brought to bear in his character; meanwhile, a
lot of the potheads in my high school—or at least many of the more vocal
ones—were Italian-American.)
Story aspects
I won’t say much about the story;
this is one of those films where, if you are attracted to the genre, I think
you will enjoy it for what it brings—and it’s not such as would curve your
spine. And different people will enjoy it—or assess it—differently, based on
their own high school experiences.
One major plot angle is of how
the young can work out their problems among themselves if elders leave them
alone long enough. This, in general, seems an appealing enough idea, though
some may feel the development of Bender and Claire’s aiming toward a sort of
romance by the end is a little “artificial” or wishful thinking on Hughes’
part; while the coupling of the athlete Andrew Clark (Emilio Estevez) and the weird girl Allison Reynolds (Ally Sheedy) is less forced.
Some of the actors were a who’s who of young up-and-comers in the ’80s
(Notice the variation in the
birth dates for the actors playing the students; they ranged from about age 16
to about 25 at the time of filming. Asterisk indicates he or she was also in St. Elmo’s Fire.)
Students:
Molly Ringwald (b. 1968), as Claire Standish, the princess/prep
(this actually neatly combines two types that seem largely separate from what
you hear of various high schools’ cultures). Prior to her association with
Hughes, Ringwald had experience as a child or teen actress, on TV and
otherwise. Her Wikipedia article suggests that as a young child, she had a fair
amount of chances at doing acting on TV and otherwise, and singing parts, as
well as performing on a jazz record (her father was a jazz musician). Ringwald
seems never to have had as high a profile as an actress or celebrity since
about 1986 as she did under Hughes’ mentoring wing. In the mid-1990s she lived
and worked in France (she is fluent in French, according to the Wikipedia
article). But even in more modern photos, she has an appearance of a sort of
delicate elf/America’s sweetheart. In her older work, she consistently seemed
vulnerable but not pathetic; she was emotionally articulate enough, not quite
pouty/moody, in the Hughes films, which I think was key to her appeal then.
Judd Nelson* (b. 1959), as John Bender, the “criminal”/burnout. He
appeared with Sheedy not only in St.
Elmo’s Fire, but also in Blue City
(1986), which from all indications—including comments of Sheedy’s on the 2008
DVD—was a bomb. He is interesting to listen to, many years older and with
beard, in comments in extras on the 2008 DVD.
Anthony Michael Hall (b. 1968),
as Brian Ralph Johnson, the high-achieving geek. He was a standout in Hughes’ Sixteen Candles. He speaks interestingly
on the 2008 DVD at about age 39.
Ally Sheedy* (b. 1962), as Allison Reynolds, the weird
(almost-goth) girl. Sheedy has the distinction of having (years ago) published
a children’s book, She Was Nice to Mice
(~1974), and I’d thought that for this, she had been listed in the Guinness Book of World Records as the
youngest author published by a trade publisher, though a look at my own 1976 Guinness Book shows this wasn’t the
case. In any event, a girl of 12 having a trade book published, which goes on
to sell a lot (according to Sheedy’s Wikipedia article), was quite a rarity in
the 1970s. She speaks on the 2008 DVD, very clear in her views (she’s almost
exactly an age peer of mine, so—not that this is so common among actors my
age—I find she speaks about some things very similarly to how I would). Her
unusual jaw line—even in 1985 she had a bit of a pointed chin, and today her
facial features just exaggerate a bit what was the case 30 years ago—made her
attractive in a way, but not strikingly beautiful; her intelligence, though,
combined with her somewhat average looks cut her out for roles that meant she
wasn’t to be a sex object (smart or not) but to be someone of unusual talent or
personality. I vaguely recall that in the film WarGames (~1984), which I didn’t see (and wouldn’t have), she was
some smart girl as a partner to the male star, or such. In Breakfast Club, she is fine as the weird girl who turns out not to
be so weird. And her acting ability is on point; she exemplifies how, if you
can tersely but feelingly spew out “Eat shit!”
as her Allison does without sounding like incorrigible trash, that shows acting
skill.
Emilio Estevez* (b. 1962), as Andrew Clark, the jock (athlete).
Estevez is Martin Sheen’s son and Charlie Sheen’s brother, but you probably
already knew that. Not to give him short shrift, but I don’t know much about
his work or life; but in Breakfast Club
he has a simpatico Martin Sheen–type flavor.
By the way, the array of
characters shows an unusual marketing/strategy move—or, I should say, one that
wouldn’t be made today—in that the group of kids here contains three boys and two girls. Today, you would figure, the number from each gender
would be equal. I guess Hughes had a specific set of “types” he wanted to write
on, and didn’t want to be too encumbered with too many students, so five was
the total, and three would be boys.
School staff:
Paul Gleason (1939-2006) as
the principal, Richard Vernon. He is remembered fondly by various on the 2008
DVD.
John Kapelos as the
wiser-than-you’d-think janitor, Carl Reed. In real life, Kapelos had actually
gone to the high school featured in the film (at least to one of the two high
schools used in the film, to judge from the end credits).
End note 1.
An extra on the 2008 DVD is
dedicated specially to explaining the “Brat Pack” label. I knew at the time (1985)
that the term was a glib media moniker, but it seems the way it arose is that,
for publication in 1985, New York
magazine wanted to do an article initially on Emilio Estevez alone, but this
devolved into an article on him and a constellation of other young stars he was
working with. In the process, the label “Brat Pack” was incorporated by the
article; and it was obviously derived from the old term “Rat Pack” for the set
of Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin, Sammy Davis Jr., and others who performed as a
clique-of-sorts in the early 1960s. Various Breakfast
Club stars speaking in the DVD extra, from the vantage point of about age
40, say that the term was a mixed blessing at best. I didn’t know at the time
that it carried such negative connotations as they suggest it did, with harder
consequences for them.
End note 2.
This is an area that, I am well
aware, could raise some people’s hackles as connoting racism, stereotyping, and
so forth, but I think that avoiding discussing certain points here that are
really, in good part, about biological aspects of people (and derivative habits of
mind, however traditional and stupid) throws the baby out with the bathwater.
To note something that is
biological fact on which I have general knowledge: red or blond hair and blue (or
green) eyes are generally recessive
traits, and brown hair and brown eyes are dominant
traits. This means that, with the way genetics works out (the genes make up the
DNA-based genotype, and the visible
traits are the phenotype), if couples
had children when one parent has all dominant traits, and another has all recessive
traits, the children—and their children, assuming the trait-mix of mates over
generations is similar—would likely tend to have dominant-trait/phenotypes
occur more often than recessive (though lower-likelihood outcomes are possible).
Thus, in ethnic populations in
which there is high predominance of
one type of trait or the other, this suggests not a lot of intermixing with other ethnic groups. For instance, people
of (almost) entirely Irish or Scandinavian stock would have a lot of blue eyes
and blond or red hair in families, reflective of a fair amount of ethnic (not
familial) interbreeding; while those of, say, Jewish or some other
Mediterranean-group background would feature a lot of brown eyes and dark hair.
There are exceptions, of course,
which I’ll get to. But over the centuries, and as what may seem a sort of
peasant belief, blond or red hair and blue eyes seems to suggest a kind of “special”
status, whatever this may mean (and apart from the merely biological aspect of “recessive-trait”
status). As long ago as about the year 1066, according to the old historical
story, William the Conqueror (I think it was), who was from northern France, on
entering England named the English English
because, with all the blond heads he saw, he thought they looked like “angels” (note
how the two words seem to share a common root).
Broadly speaking, the startling
status of blond heads continues today, such as in the example where one of my
nephews, who is blond and has blue eyes, was visiting China within the past few
years, and he was gawked at by a number of people there because, presumably,
not only did he not look Oriental, but his blond head, obviously, stuck out.
(By the way, if you think I am a “German showing a certain boneheaded indelicacy,”
keep in mind that reality always has its complexity. My nephews are half Jewish,
and of course my experience with Jewish people as friends and otherwise goes
all the way back to about 1968—a whole area of discussion I may eventually get
to on my blogs.)
Of course, as a broader matter
in European and American society, the attraction of blond people in other
contexts can range from the merely “animal-logical” of sexual attraction—some men
prefer blonds (as women might prefer their own idea of “ideal” physical types)
for whatever reason; and of course, the potential insanity of judging people by
physical appearance reared an especially ugly head in Nazi Germany, where operatives
making a quick field decision on who was Jewish decided entirely on physical
appearance (for instance, a blond person with blue eyes, ipso facto, had to be “Aryan,”
or Germanic and not Jewish).
Such thinking wasn’t constricted
to Nazi Germany in totalitarian circles (and could occur on levels other than
governmental policy); supposedly, Svetlana Alliluyeva,
a.k.a. Svetlana Stalin (a.k.a. Lana Peters), daughter of Soviet dictator Josef
Stalin, said late in her life her father loved her to the extent that, she
said, he liked her because she was a redhead like her mother. (Stalin was a
dark-haired and –eyed ethnic Georgian.)
To the topic at hand: in my
experience, redheads among ethnic and racial groups who typically are
dark-haired and dark-eyed do occur, and whether this is due to some intermixing
in their family tree, I don’t fully know. I have encountered a number of
redhead Jewish people over the years (and typically they have brown eyes, not blue), and there, of
course, have been redhead Blacks, too (but interestingly, it doesn’t seem
redhead qualities occur among Oriental races). I wonder if the genotype for
redhead features somehow has more affinity for the genotype for brown hair and
brown eyes than the blond/blue-eyed genotype does with the latter.
Thus—while Molly Ringwald wasn’t
presented in her characters in the Hughes films in connection with being Jewish—her
“flavor” was rather intriguing in her being a redhead (with brown eyes). And in
the same stroke—as far as I know—no one in films not helmed by Hughes tried to
capitalize on her qualities that were other than her seeming like a sort of
rarefied “girl next-door” (e.g., no one sought to cast her in Jewish roles in a
high-profile movie).
Bottom line: if an actress, whether Jewish or not, is redheaded,
this seems to cut her out for an image as something special, whether there is a
simply suggested, or decidedly vague/mythological, or somewhat obfuscating
quality to this or not. (And of course, physical appearance, whether aligned with traditional notions of sex appeal, is a perennial standard squared with in filmmaking that is foolish to ignore or decline to interpret.) This redhead aspect may, like so much else related to beauty, carry
her to a large extent for a while, but not forever. As for Ringwald specifically,
there may be a ton of reasons why her career did not continue past about the
late 1980s with as much heft as it had in the mid-1980s. But her flavor as a
teen hero, including her sharp acting,
certainly hit a sweet spot with audiences for a brief time in those days.
