On 6th August 2009, one of the most important figures in the history of American cinema shuffled off this mortal coil while taking a quite walk in New York City. John Hughes may not have been a legend in everybody's eyes – and he certainly won’t be remembered as an amiable character or an especially renowned artist – but he most undoubtedly was an icon, and a creator of icons.
From his debut feature, Sixteen Candles (1984), Hughes enjoyed one of the most untainted runs of popularity and success ever achieved by a filmmaker. To this day Hollywood is reeling from its inability to ensnare this reclusive talent and study him more closely. His unique blend of innocent comedy and caustic realism was always shot through with an eternal hopefulness that may not have been an honest refection of Hughes’ own soul, but most certainly spoke to the young generations of Reagan’s America.
It is impossible to single out one of Hughes films for comment: Sixteen Candles, The Breakfast Club, Weird Science, Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, Planes, Trains, and Automobiles, She’s Having a Baby, and Uncle Buck were all released between 1984 and 1989. Hughes then took an epic hiatus of two years before releasing Curly Sue (1991), his final film as a director.
Who else could lay claim to such an uninterrupted string of successful films? Rob Reiner, the Coens, and Hitchcock are all close contenders (and for the last two probably better filmmakers) but none of them can hold a torch up to Hughes for targeting a generational epoch and owning it outright.
Oh, and just in case you have been checking dates and thought that 1990 was a slow year for John Hughes, he was busy producing a little-known film called Home Alone.
When you add to this roster the films that Hughes wrote but neglected to direct (Baby’s Day Out, Miracle on 34th Street, and Beethoven to name but a few) it is impossible to understand why anybody of my generation isn’t sobbing silently onto their keyboard.
Within this brief but extraordinary body of work lie some of the most iconic characters and movie lines in cinema history. Molly Ringwald became a teen legend after her ‘girl-next-door’ performances in Sixteen Candles and The Breakfast Club, and Matthew Broderick was launched into the limelight following his rambunctious turn as Ferris Bueller.
He had every major studio in Hollywood falling over themselves to co-produce any projects that Hughes Entertainment was considering. Warner Bros turned down Home Alone and allowed Twentieth Century Fox to pick up one of the most successful kids films in history, and from then on it was a constant struggle to get hold of Hughes at his agrarian retreat outside his beloved Chicago.
Hughes may not have been the most friendly or sociable of men; and I see no reason why death should act as a moral antiseptic. He switched agents almost as often as underwear, and was the scourge of low-level film set workers due to his reputation for firing innocent people on a whim. He was infamously reclusive and avoided all contact with the press, and rarely went anywhere near Los Angeles unless it was absolutely necessary. These last two character traits are often cited as proof of Hughes unpleasant manner, but I see know reason why a filmmaker should have a responsibility to cavort around Sunset Blvd. and humour the careless journalists that followed him around. He did all his talking on the screen, and he was good enough to make Hollywood come to him!
His films may not have had anything really important to say, but they still spoke to the everyday children of 1980s America who felt that they were unimportant in the eyes of their parents, schools, and governments. These films should be stored away in the Library of Congress as a perfect representation of the mood and tone of 1980s middle America. They were a generation that had no emo, no Nirvana, no Grateful Dead, just a quite, bespectacled man from Michigan.
From his debut feature, Sixteen Candles (1984), Hughes enjoyed one of the most untainted runs of popularity and success ever achieved by a filmmaker. To this day Hollywood is reeling from its inability to ensnare this reclusive talent and study him more closely. His unique blend of innocent comedy and caustic realism was always shot through with an eternal hopefulness that may not have been an honest refection of Hughes’ own soul, but most certainly spoke to the young generations of Reagan’s America.
It is impossible to single out one of Hughes films for comment: Sixteen Candles, The Breakfast Club, Weird Science, Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, Planes, Trains, and Automobiles, She’s Having a Baby, and Uncle Buck were all released between 1984 and 1989. Hughes then took an epic hiatus of two years before releasing Curly Sue (1991), his final film as a director.
Who else could lay claim to such an uninterrupted string of successful films? Rob Reiner, the Coens, and Hitchcock are all close contenders (and for the last two probably better filmmakers) but none of them can hold a torch up to Hughes for targeting a generational epoch and owning it outright.
Oh, and just in case you have been checking dates and thought that 1990 was a slow year for John Hughes, he was busy producing a little-known film called Home Alone.
When you add to this roster the films that Hughes wrote but neglected to direct (Baby’s Day Out, Miracle on 34th Street, and Beethoven to name but a few) it is impossible to understand why anybody of my generation isn’t sobbing silently onto their keyboard.
Within this brief but extraordinary body of work lie some of the most iconic characters and movie lines in cinema history. Molly Ringwald became a teen legend after her ‘girl-next-door’ performances in Sixteen Candles and The Breakfast Club, and Matthew Broderick was launched into the limelight following his rambunctious turn as Ferris Bueller.
He had every major studio in Hollywood falling over themselves to co-produce any projects that Hughes Entertainment was considering. Warner Bros turned down Home Alone and allowed Twentieth Century Fox to pick up one of the most successful kids films in history, and from then on it was a constant struggle to get hold of Hughes at his agrarian retreat outside his beloved Chicago.
Hughes may not have been the most friendly or sociable of men; and I see no reason why death should act as a moral antiseptic. He switched agents almost as often as underwear, and was the scourge of low-level film set workers due to his reputation for firing innocent people on a whim. He was infamously reclusive and avoided all contact with the press, and rarely went anywhere near Los Angeles unless it was absolutely necessary. These last two character traits are often cited as proof of Hughes unpleasant manner, but I see know reason why a filmmaker should have a responsibility to cavort around Sunset Blvd. and humour the careless journalists that followed him around. He did all his talking on the screen, and he was good enough to make Hollywood come to him!
His films may not have had anything really important to say, but they still spoke to the everyday children of 1980s America who felt that they were unimportant in the eyes of their parents, schools, and governments. These films should be stored away in the Library of Congress as a perfect representation of the mood and tone of 1980s middle America. They were a generation that had no emo, no Nirvana, no Grateful Dead, just a quite, bespectacled man from Michigan.
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