Sinister: If we weren't in school right now I'd waste you.

[Ruvi Simmons]

My heart was warmed by the delightful comments made about my last humble
offering, but that only increases my anxiety now. I have just arrived home
after a night visiting friends, which undoubtedly means I should keep my
lips sealed and my vision blurred, but I have decided to do neither, and try
and muse about John Hughes, amongst others. I can't just sit mutely by while
Duckie's fate at the end of Pretty in Pink and the Ally Sheedy makeover are
discussed. I must say something. So, since people can be masters of their
own destiny, I will.

First off all, the secretary in Ferris Bueller's Day Off was also in a
Cheech and Chong film (I don't remember which one. They're all the same, so
I suppose it doesn't particularly matter). Her acting abilities were
stretched almost beyond the realm of human capability, certainly into a
region Stanislavski never envisioned, by performing as a twee Midwestern
housewife with a nasal voice. She got stoned with Cheech and Chong, drove
around in a Rolls Royce, and went to see a Pee Wee Herman show. It was all
crap.

While I have nothing but fondness for John Hughes and his 80's films, let us
not forget that he is also the man responsible for Home Alone and, more
obscurely yet not less unforgiveably, Curly Sue. Also, is there not
something slightly dubious about a man well into his thirties spending his
time surrounded by a crop of adolescent actors and actresses who quickly
slid into a miasma of booze and wanton sex? No wonder Anthony Michael Hall
became and alcoholic and Ally Sheedy a neurotic anorexic. Nevertheless, his
films a super. And yes, Ally Sheedy's make-over was a travesty. When I first
watched the film, having gradually become fixated on her (I even wrote her a
letter in my capricious and ludicrous youth), it felt like a knife was
plunged into my heart as I saw her coming out of the office where that
little minx Clare had performed her evil deed. Forcing the shaggy haired
girl to conform, to go out with the stupidest character in the whole film,
leaving poor Brian Johnson (not Rogers) standing in the library on his own!

But enough of all that: what about Weird Science? It may have taken John
Hughes only two days to write, but it's still a bit, only a small bit, you
understand, of a classic. Kelly le Brock's hair alone is worth noting; it's
like a great big teased fountain spurting from the crown of her head,
levitating above her scalp. And what about Sixteen Candles?

Finally - I will say no more on this subject, I promise, although my record
of keeping promises is not good - I need to mention The Wild Life. It's sort
of the Las Vegas of teen films - absolutely awful, but triumphant on the
grounds of shamelessness alone. It has Rick Moranis, Chris Penn, Ilan
Mitchell-Smith (who seems to have vanished off the face of the planet, which
is probably, bless his little inept actor heart, for the best), and Lea
"Calvin...he's a dream-boat" Thompson. Could a film need anything more?
Could the world, in fact, need anything more?

5 paragraphs on 80's teen films is probably enough to last a lifetime. I am
ashamed; after all the talk of being low-brow, I have outdone myself. I
should probably go and read a biography on David Beckham now, or simply slit
my wrists. I will put them in hot water to stop the blood from clotting, and
no one will find me until morning. I will be drained and pale like I always
wanted to be, with a little note at my side blaming it all on Don't You
Forget About Me by The Simple Minds. That was all a bit morbid, wasn't it?
Instead, perhaps I should go upstairs, eat some food, recollect myself, and
read a bit of Baudelaire. Yes, I think that would be entirely the more
sapient choice. Or perhaps watch Fast Times at Ridgemont High......

Ruvi.

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