John Hughes passed away yesterday and the news made me sad and a little melancholic. You see, I was in my teens in the 80s and watched Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, Pretty in Pink and Sixteen Candles in the movie theatres when they were released (when admission was only $4!). Hughes’ characters became very personal to me; somehow, this 30-something adult male managed to accurately capture the angst, ennui and joy that lived in every teenager. I remember crying when Andie had her heart broken by Blaine (“Blane? His name is Blane? That’s a major appliance, that’s not a name!”). I remember how hard I laughed at Ferris Bueller, that righteous dude. And I always wanted a Jake to call my own. (Where art thou, Michael Schoeffling)?
Hughes was one of the defining filmmakers of the 80s, and I say that without a hint of sarcasm. His cinematic legacy may not stack up to that of Hitchcock, Wilder or Allen but his influence was just as large. Think about it — ask any person over 35 what their favourite John Hughes movie is and you will get a definitive answer. Hell, you can ask a 20-something the same question and they’ll tell you their favourite, too.
When I get a moment, I will watch Pretty in Pink on DVD (with the alternate ending where Andie chooses Duckie). I will also unearth the soundtrack (which I still have on vinyl) out of storage and create a little altar to pay my respects to the man. Surrounded by sixteen candles, of course.
