John Hughes once said, "Many filmmakers portray teenagers as immoral and ignorant, with pursuits that are pretty base. But I haven't found that to be the case. I listen to kids. I respect them. Some of them are as bright as any of the adults I've met." Nowhere has that been more expressed--or done better--than in his 1985 ensemble piece, The Breakfast Club.
Set over the course of one Saturday, five high school students (each representing distinct cliques) spend the entire day in detention for different reasons. The archetypes include popular girl Claire Standish (Molly Ringwald), star athlete Andrew Clark (Emilio Estevez), academic scholar Brian Johnson (Anthony Michael Hall), shy recluse Allison Reynolds (Ally Sheedy), and juvenile delinquent John Bender (Judd Nelson). There's also authoritative vice principal Richard Vernon (Paul Gleeson), who apparently doesn't want to be there as well, yet coldly labels each teenager and has each of them write a paper about who they think they are. And then there's the experienced custodian (and one-time valedictorian) Carl (John Kapelos, another Hughes regular), who seems to represent an unexpected side of becoming an adult.
My first real introduction to this film came at a time when my understanding of cinema as an art form and a means of storytelling was transitioning into a more mature perspective. Inspired by Hughes' aforementioned quote, I applied this same theme to my own work in terms of not only examining and reviewing films, but also other people, moments in history, and diverse genres, styles, and subjects, for that matter. When I look at and think of The Breakfast Club, I see a great example of a story set in one primary location (in this case, the school library), not to mention a daring screenplay where everybody just talks and takes full advantage of the environment. In addition, I see a raw portrayal of adolescence, human psychology, and being real, as the titular quintet slowly comes to see they have more in common than they realized, even as they struggle with their own angst and sense of identity.
Some of those topics are hard to listen to, ranging from physical abuse or neglect at home, to codependency, not meeting expectations, suicidal thoughts, or other issues related to school. The film earns its R-rating for strong language choices, much of it coming from the rebellious Bender, who antagonizes everybody--and drives the main action--from the get-go. There are also a few sexual references that have become outdated (as written by Ringwald, in a piece for the New Yorker, in 2018), and an infamous scene where most of the teens smoke marijuana.
One of the reasons that The Breakfast Club has otherwise endured, since it was first released in 1985, is because it asks more questions than answers. The key scene where Brian and Claire first bring up what will happen when they all return to classes on Monday is a great example. It's also a reason that social norms and conventions have since been broken down and examined more than ever.
In an interview with the Chicago Tribune in 1985, Hughes had this to say: "I told the actors that if [this film] bombs, we have nothing to be ashamed of. I said, 'We have made a movie that will be around for a long time. If nothing else, even if doesn`t do any business, we have documented a slice of life that normally doesn`t get documented in the movies. We can be proud of this.' ''
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