Bill Crider is amazing. (Yes, I know this is the second post I’ve mentioned him in today—why would I want on his bad side?) No sooner do I look away from the blog for a minute and he’s informing me of the passing of director-writer John Hughes, who succumbed to a heart attack earlier today. He was 59.
Since I’ve stated a good many times in the past that I’m an individual who was born way ahead of his time, I’m not going to hold forth for several paragraphs espousing the joys of The Breakfast Club (1985)—perhaps Hughes’ best-known and most-revered film. I didn’t like it when it came out, and I still feel pretty much the same way nearly twenty-five years later. The same goes for the other teen-oriented features that he either wrote and/or directed: Weird Science (1985), Weird Science (1986), Pretty in Pink (1986), etc. Hughes was responsible (though there were others) for the state of movies today: films that are geared toward young ticket-buyers and which try to pass off fart jokes and other toilet humor as material worthy of the Algonquin Round Table. Sixteen Candles (1984) is okay; but I really felt Hughes reached the apex of his career as a writer for National Lampoon—some of his pieces for the magazine were downright hysterical (even though they did contain that kind of humor I was railing about a sentence or two back) …including a short story called Vacation ’58 that became the basis for the screenplay of National Lampoon’s Vacation (1983).
R.I.P, John. You will be missed.