Lorna Irvine reflects on an iconic film.
They were the classic teen film stereotypes: the Jock (Emilio Estevez), the Basket Case (Ally Sheedy), the Brain (Anthony Michael Hall), the Prom Queen (Molly Ringwald) and the Criminal (Judd Nelson). Five teens with seemingly disparate backgrounds and nothing in common. They bonded in detention in John Hughes' classic film, which, despite being set in 1984, was released in March 1985. It's now just over thirty years old. How does it stand up today?
Actually, surprisingly well--some fashion choices and a cringingly bad dance routine halfway through, notwithstanding. Hughes got to the heart of the bravado and BS teenagers use among their peers, the hipper-than-thou sneers and wisecracks masking hurt, angst and feeling out of place. Only Judd Nelson comes unstuck. His role as supposed hard man John Bender is pretty risible: he's as hard as custard and would have been laughed out of my school. Just not dangerous enough. Originally, his role was supposed to have been played by John Cusack or Emilio Estevez's cousin Nicolas Cage. Cage, you suspect, may have had more of the unhinged quality required, and Cusack would possibly have been too sensitive to be such a jerk. But who knows? It's interesting to think how different it would have been.
In the main, Hughes' film still works as he understands kids--how obnoxious, vain, crass and arrogant they can be. And also how funny, intelligent, caring and vulnerable. Similarly, he got that adults could be utter bastards to their kids, projecting their failings onto them--whether expecting too much of them, as with Andrew the athlete or Brian the brainbox's parents, for whom failure was just not an option; or neglecting and abusing them, as Allison the weird girl's folks did, and John's alcoholic father. John and Brian are the first of the group to cry--although John, socially conditioned into being the big guy, can't admit it. Allison, when she eventually plucks up the courage to talk, is both painfully shy and incredibly messed-up. I (suffice to say) most identified with her, with her black clothes, shyness, oddball tendencies and backcombed hair. She only attended detention from having nothing else better to do... Molly Ringwald's rich kid Claire felt restricted in her role as prom queen, having had nothing more asked of her than to be pretty and popular, but wanting to be seen as a fully-formed, intelligent girl. Getting stoned and talking trash, they find that, of course, they have more in common than on the surface. Cue the montage, and fromage dance sequence. Kick, Ms Ringwald, kick!
It is the incredibly smart dialogue however, that drives the film. It could at times be a play, as the power struggles within the group shift, from John picking on everyone in order to establish his macho dominance to Allison's dismantling of it by simply stating that even if she had friends, which she didn't, it wouldn't matter what cliques they all belonged to--they wouldn't hang out again the next time they saw each other. The writing is excellent--so quotable. Who could resist John's put-down of the prom queen, as she demonstrates her 'talent'--putting lipstick on, under her chin, balanced between her breasts: 'That was great, Claire. My image of you is totally blown,’ to which Claire eventually responds with a bitter, 'Ooh, probably (get invited to) one of your heavy metal vomit parties.’ This challenge impresses him, and turns him on a little--he didn't realise she was a match for him in the smart-mouth stakes. Then there's the ultimate, again from John at his most chauvinist: 'So what are you guys, like boyfriend/girlfriend? Steady dates? Love-eeers? Come on, Sporto, level with me--are you slipping her the...hot beef injection?'
Above all, it is class difference, in the status sense, that looms large. John is jealous of all of the group having more money than his broken family so attempts to belittle them. But his stand-off between Carl the school janitor (the brilliant John Kapelos) is hilarious. While John sneers at Carl for merely being a menial worker, Carl, cool as fuck, casually reminds them that he sees everything going on in the school and has access to their secrets, lockers and lost property. He is, in essence, the heart of Shermer High School. Then comes his parting shot: ‘By the way... that clock is twenty minutes fast!' Brilliant.
The bullying teacher Mr Vernon (Paul Gleason) is the ultimate authority figure--a pathetic, pedantic, patronising bully. Asserting his authority on the kids, he is a bitter little person and clearly very unhappy with his lot. As he picks on the teenagers, he fails to see them as individuals, or just people. But the detention group have the last laugh, when they refuse to write the essay he sets them, by banding together as The Breakfast Club, instead setting out the reasons they will not be referred to as simple stereotypes. Allison's silly girly makeover by Claire is a joke, though--she looked better before. You can't turn Chrissie Hynde into Britney Spears.
Still, nitpicking. The Breakfast Club is sweet, funny, sad, a little cheesy and full of empathy. It set the template for so many funny, clever niche high school-based films thereafter. It's hard to imagine Ghost World, Ten Things I Hate About You, Scott Pilgrim vs the World, Dazed and Confused, Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure, Grosse Point Blank, Clueless, The Ice Storm, Heathers, The Virgin Suicidesetc etc without it.
Totally rad, Dude. High-five.
The Breakfast Club trailer (1985): http://youtu.be/ZXzlCpHK3-I
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