Thanks To Mr. Hughes

I had the good fortune of being born in the seventies, thus the 1980’s were the mind-boggling years I spent navigating high school. The bewildering days spent coming of age, going through puberty, discovering boys, trying to understand girls, exercising my freedom, and for the first time, recognizing and trying to make sense of my emotions.

All teenagers, even the seemingly coolest, most popular kids, feel adrift throughout high school. The raw truth is, no one knows what they are doing or who they are in high school. Ultimately, teenagers become experts at pretending in an effort to be accepted. How do I need to behave to not stand out and not be made fun of? That’s basically the tape on replay in every teenager's head. I know it’s frowned upon to make statements with sweeping stereotypes, but let’s just be honest no one reflects on their high school self and says, ‘damn I really had my shit together back then.’ And anyone who does likely has an EQ rating below zero. There was one man who guided me through the labyrinth of high school, and that was Mr. John Hughes. How lucky was I to grow up in a time where a filmmaker presented every teens inner voice on the big screen? Hughes wrote about the inner workings of a teenager's brain, exposing realities that had never been addressed in movies. His characters were utterly relatable through their dialogue and the authentic situations he created. In The Breakfast Club, he assembles stereotypical personalities of high school cliques and places them adjacent to one another for a day.  We watch as Hughes investigates what would happen if  kids who would never publicly acknowledge one another in school were forced to spend an entire day together. In Ferris Bueller’s Day Off,  Hughes points out that even staff within high schools are aware of the pecking order. The Principal's secretary is asked what she knows about Ferris, and she responds,  “Oh, well, he’s very popular, Ed. The sportos, the motorheads, the geeks, sluts, bloods, waistoids, dweebies, dickheads — they all adore him. They think he’s a righteous dude.”

We all knew these groups existed and I’m sure we can all look back and recall where we fit in or didn’t fit in, but Hughes highlighted it, called out that a caste system existed in teenage life and provided commentary that made me personally feel less like a freak. Hughes gave me the freedom to understand that I was just like any other high school girl trying to figure it all out. I really didn't know who I was and remember the daily struggle. I was accepted by the cool kids, but I didn’t feel comfortable there, it felt like a constant tap dance to make sure I didn’t act uncool and have to endure the repercussions. The artsy kids were too out there for me, I didn't have the brains to hang with the smart kids, or “geeks”, Goth wasn’t my scene, I wasn’t even close to qualifying as an athlete, so maybe that kind of explains it all. I didn’t really fit in by my own choice, but Hughes advocated differences. His muse, Molly Ringwald, was not the gorgeous siren that most filmmakers were casting. She was unique, with red hair, full projecting lips and a slender boyish body. I was, or maybe just wanted to be that left of center girl. I could relate to Ringwald as Andie in Pretty in Pink. My fashion sense was a smidge of suburban private school, and a smidge of thrift shop. I wore a swatch watch around my ankle because I thought it was cool, and nickels in my black penny loafers because I preferred the silver rather than the copper. I walked the line of not wanting to be like the rest of the pack, yet wanting to be accepted by the cool conforming pack. Push-pull, teenage angst at it’s best. 

Sixteen Candles was by far my favorite Hughes film. Sam, the main character, captures the truth of a teenager's self-consciousness. A  Chinese exchange student arrives in her town and she notes his relationship status compared to her own. “Donger's here for five hours, and he's got somebody. I live here my whole life, and I'm like a disease.” You’re lying if you can’t remember looking at that cute, yet annoying high school couple and thinking, why them? Why not me? Sam longingly stares at her crush and his girlfriend from afar and we watch as she wipes her tears, and hides in the auto mechanics classroom from embarrassment. Everyone's grass seems perfectly green compared to your own in high school. Hughes exposed that truth and it made me feel more normal and less alone in the teenage struggle. 

Jake Ryan, the heartthrob in Sixteen Candles, and my personal crush, (sigh) boldly says, “ I want a serious girlfriend. Somebody I can love, that’s gonna love me back.Is that psycho?” OMG Jake, NO! No, you are not a psycho! I’m with you Jake. Oh wait, sorry that was my internal voice that escaped. Sorry about that…   Jake has the most popular, prettiest, girlfriend in the whole school with a body to match. While every boy is drooling over her and wondering why they can’t be like Jake Ryan, Hughes creates a vulnerability when Jake admits, he’s missing any real connection with the perfect girl. Isn’t that so high school? Let’s be honest, boys in High school are often preoccupied with one thing, so when Jake admits his feelings, he’s making it cool to want more than just the status of dating the hottest, most popular girl in school. In reality, every teen is wondering if that exists.  Is there such a thing as a real connection without concern for social status? What do I do if my choice isn’t vetted by the cool kids? Hughes asks this question over and over in his narratives. Andie and Blane, in Pretty In Pink, the entire cast of The Breakfast Club, Sam and Jake in Sixteen Candles, Amanda Jones and Keith in Some Kind of Wonderful. Hughes puts his characters through real life teenage angst, but in the end his protagonist triumphs. In John Hughes’ movies, the unlikely happens, and as a teenager, when you see it in the movies, you believe there’s a chance that an unlikely storyline could be a reality. We all have to believe that we have a shot with an Amanda Jones or a Jake Ryan, because a true connection comes from within, not looks or status. When your gut and heart don’t align with the opinions of the cool kids, what’s a teenager to do? In the Breakfast Club Claire breaks down and admits,“I Hate It. I Hate Having To Go Along With Everything My Friends Say.” And thank you Mr. Hughes for showing us behind the curtain of perceived perfection, a life lesson that resonates today in the world of ‘Fakebook.’

As my senior year of high school ticked away, the thought of leaving the life I've always known loomed and I remember a summer consumed with a churning in my belly. That summer my best friend Stacy and I zipped around in her father's sporty, red convertible and lived in our own John Hughes movie. We didn't go to parties, or chase boys, we just hung out all day and night. In Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, Hughes creates two best friends that could not be more opposite. Ferris lovingly describes Cameron, “Pardon my French, but Cameron is so tight that if you stuck a lump of coal up his ass, in two weeks you'd have a diamond."  While Stacy and I were not opposites, she was the first friend to make me realize that it is possible to be accepted for exactly who you are. As I tell my daughters, you should be loved simply for breathing. Ferris knows all of Cameron’s hang-ups, and there are many,  yet, he doesn't care. He accepts Cameron, loves him, includes him and recognizes his flaws in an adoring way. He’s an unconditional friend to Cameron, and demonstrates to the audience that true friendship does not depend on the popular vote. In The Breakfast Club, the principal condescendingly says, “You ought to spend a little more trying to do something with yourself and a little less trying to impress people.” Hughes sent a clear message. 

I've thought a lot about John Hughes over the years. As you may notice I’m always asking ‘Why?’ and today no different. I thought I was the only girl walking the halls feeling weird and sweating as I tried to find my place, but Hughes’ movies gave me hope. He showed me Andie, and Sam and Claire who were all just a variation of my teenage self. That was his gift, showing us characters that a teen could identify with and say, hey, I feel that too. In the final scene of The Breakfast Club, the characters are asked to write an apology letter regarding their misdemeanors landing them in a Saturday detention. If there’s one passage that sums up Hughes’ intentions, this would be it.  “Dear Mr. Vernon, we accept the fact that we had to sacrifice a whole Saturday in detention for whatever it was we did wrong. What we did was wrong, but we think you’re crazy to make us write an essay telling you who we think we are. You see us as you want to see us, in the simplest terms and the most convenient definitions. But what we found out is that each one of us is a brain…and an athlete…and a basket case…a princess…and a criminal. Does that answer your question? Sincerely yours, the Breakfast Club.”  While High school categories label you for the duration, the fact is, the discomfort comes from the label, because no one can be just one identity. We are all multifaceted and are made up of a little bit of all the stereotypes. Once we realize that, as a teen or as a forty-something-year-old, the freedom to step into your true self and not who everyone thinks you are or should be, allows you to realize you just have to breathe to be loved and accepted.

John Wilden Hughes Jr.[2] (February 18, 1950 National Lampoon, National Lampoon's Vacation National Lampoon's European Vacation ( National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation (, Mr. Mom (1983), Sixteen Candles (1984), Weird Science ,The Breakfast Club Ferris Bueller's Day Off (1986), Pretty in Pink (1986), Some Kind of Wonderful (1987), Planes, Trains and Automobiles (1987), She's Having a Baby (1988), Uncle Buck (1989), Dutch (1991), Dennis the Menace (1993), Baby's Day Out (1994), the Beethoven franchise (co-written under a pseudonym with Amy Holden-Jones) and Home Alone (1990) and its sequels Home Alone 2: Lost in New York (1992) and Home Alone 3 (1997).