If I could pick two words to capture the golden era of movies from my youth, they would be JOHN HUGHES. 20 years after first falling in love with the Brat Pack and their pre-Gen-X angst, I'm amazed at how these movies hold up. Why? John Hughes is one great writer who gets people. He is unmatched in his ability to take ridiculous high school drama, where the most important things in life have to do with ditching school and going to prom, and put round characters set in real social contexts with real family issues and make you give two cents about what happens to them. Granted, it helps if you have a penchant for good quality sap like I do.
The best part of last night was before the movie showing, when Diablo and special guest Jon Cryer (Duckie Dale fans given permission to freak out now) did some Q&A about the film. I learned the Molly Ringwald had a crush on Robert Downey Jr. at the time and hoped he would get the role instead of Cryer. I learned they actually filmed the *real* way fans know the film was supposed to end, but it didn't work so well with Ringwald's stomach flu. I learned that Trax was actually right on Third Street Promenade, the then-void lot of empty storefronts. And I learned that Jon is just as funny and relateable in real life as his Duckie was.
Then, watching the movie, I was reminded of why I loved it so. I have always identified with the outcast-hero that is so celebrated in the John Hughes canon. Andie Walsh and Duckie Dale, like Keith and Watts, or John Bender or Farmer Ted or Cameron Frye, represented to me then that the one who didn't have it all could still win something in the end. I will always be more Andie Walsh than Amanda Jones (pardon the mixed movie metaphor), and I embrace that. I just haven't found my devoted Duckie Dale yet.
Best scene: Anyone who would do a little Otis deserves to get the girl.
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