5/10
Hughes' finest
31 July 2007
I never understood why John Hughes was so lauded as an 80s teen movie master. To me, Sixteen Candles was unrealistic, Pretty in Pink was unsatisfying and Ferris Bueller was totally over the top. But fluke or not, I have to give him credit for writing the best high school movie (for once I do agree with Entertainment Weekly).

What makes The Breakfast Club so special then? I'd like to think it's the characterisation. Despite being such stereotypical brain/athlete/basket case/princess/criminals, the cast somehow makes it all work and adds so many distinct dimensions to the characters that you can relate to everyone. Never have I met someone who has said they couldn't identify with anyone from The Breakfast Club. The entire cast is simply outstanding, with my personal favourite being Ally Sheedy who manages to steal scenes without even speaking! Judd Nelson of course has to carry most of the movie on his shoulders, but I can't imagine a better actor to lead this fine film. Even the supporting cast is brilliant, John Kapelos always possessing that devious twinkle in his eye.

Like all of Hughes' "Brat Pack" films, this one deals with a theme: one that does not involve the Molly Ringwald character trying to get a boyfriend. Well, almost. The film talks about subjects that matter to a teenager, and one of the most problematic ones is the parents. Whether it's pressure for success, going through a divorce, or simply ignoring your child, Hughes shows us all the ways how parental influence can screw up a kid for life. And he does this without falling into the trap of being condescending, which in itself is mighty impressive. And of course, there's the topic eternally plaguing all teenagers: sex. The end result is a hilarious script, witty yet still heartfelt.

Of course, the film is not perfect. The pace ground down to a halt when they did the typical "share our problems in a circle" thing, but soon conflict arose and it became interesting again. Pairing Alison with Andy always felt a little forced to me, especially after she is made over by Claire. But I guess that epitomises the teenage years – even at the sweetest times (and oh how sweet they are) there will never be a lack of issues.

I wasn't even born yet on March 24, 1984, but somehow Hughes manages to make me reminisce about "the good old times". Because really, are our teenage generations all that different?
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