The Breakfast Club

Directed by John Hughes

Released 1985

Watched for this review August 12, 2010

Five disparate, suburban kids from Shermer, Illinois find themselves stuck in a Saturday detention together. They are Claire (Molly Ringwald), the princess, Andy (Emilio Estevez), the jock, Bender (Judd Nelson), the criminal, Brian (Anthony Michael Hall), the brain, and Allison (Ally Sheedy), the basketcase. They are presided over by the principal, who feels that they don’t respect him (which they don’t), and that is their fault and problem (which it isn’t). Despite their apparent differences, as the day goes on they find out they have more in common than they think.

I’ve reviewed this movie three times. I keep watching it—despite not liking it all that much—and my opinion on it keeps evolving. I first saw it around 1987, when I was 15 and a sophomore in a suburban high school. For obvious reasons, the movie resonated with me. I didn’t like it, and I didn’t like the characters. However, I understood it, I understood the characters, I could relate, on some level, to everything that happened in the movie. Yet, I never did like the characters, as, by and large, I never liked any John Hughes’ characters that weren’t primarily comedic. To me, even as a 15-year-old, they seemed like spoiled, suburban brats who needed something to complain about. I knew these characters very well, and maybe that was the key problem.

That opinion remained steadfast for the next 20 years of my life with one key difference. I began to understand and appreciate how elemental The Breakfast Club was for and to my generation, for better or worse. This was our movie. Would I have preferred another movie speak for my generation? Yes, I suppose so, but this movie did represent the majority of my generation, and frankly, there weren’t that many quality movies made during that period of time. In short, regardless of how I felt about the characters, I came to respect the movie for what it was.

Now, I am 37. My views on my place in the world and my generation’s place in the world and in history have evolved. In effect, I look at The Breakfast Club a bit differently. I still don’t like the characters. I still feel they are suburban brats who should man up and tell their parents to piss off (if not at the time, then as soon as they got out of their parents’ reach). Nevertheless, when I see The Breakfast Club, I look at it in the same way that I look at The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, which is another “classic” that I don’t love all that much. Most books or movies present an official hero or heroes, and that hero(es) has a clearly defined and understood world view. More than that, the writer or director has a clearly defined and understood view. In Huckleberry Finn, Mark Twain is working his mojo out as he is writing. In fact, he begins the book with the following famous line: “PERSONS attempting to find a motive in this narrative will be prosecuted; persons attempting to find a moral in it will be banished; persons attempting to find a plot in it will be shot.” He’s telling the reader up front that he doesn’t know much more than anybody else, and anybody attempting to find any great and final meaning or moral will indeed, “be shot.”

In retrospect, we can see that Twain is a racist, but at the time, he was a forward thinking abolitionist. However, given his background, one can’t expect him to raid Harper’s Ferry etc. Twain was working his racism out in his life and through his writing, trying to reconcile everything he knew and had been taught with everything he was coming to find contradicted his background. Twain’s characters are racist, but Twain knows his characters and can relate to them. He understands why they are racist and is empathetic.

There is an element of that with Hughes. His characters are the suburban brats we all know they are. Yet, Hughes understands his characters. He understands why they are the way they are, and he is empathetic. Just like his characters, he is trying to work through his own role in this, which is surprising given that Hughes is a Baby Boomer and not a Gen-Xer; most Boomers have no sympathy for Xers.

Speaking of which, The Breakfast Club shows the fruits of the Baby Boom. Most specifically, the idea that one shouldn’t trust anybody over 30. That was the Boomers’ youth-worshiping mantra. The question is what happens to people who believe that when they are no longer young? That is a question to be dealt with on another day, but it does seem that every generation since the Boom has adopted their philosophy. In Roger Ebert’s review of the movie, he noted that “The only weaknesses in Hughes’ writing are in the adult characters: The teacher is one-dimensional and one-note, and the janitor is brought onstage with a potted philosophical talk that isn’t really necessary. Typically, the kids don’t pay much attention.” Ebert is missing the point. Hughes’ movies (his early movies) are not told from an omnipotent point of view. They are told specifically and only with the teenager in mind. And the teenager, post-Boomer, sees most adults as “one-dimensional” or full of “potted” philosophy. This is the true fruit of the Boom. Much as the adults in The Breakfast Club see the children as they want to see them, so too, do the children see the adults as one-dimensional.

I also recall reading Pauline Kael’s review of the movie in which she notes (correctly) that the only two likeable characters are Brian and Allison. One would like to think that Allison, the “basketcase”—or perhaps a better word would be misfit—was as she was by choice and took pride in being who she was. Yet, at the end, Allison allows Claire to “clean her up” and help her to be the pretty, pink deb that was always apparently inside her. This, in turn, appeals to Andrew, who wouldn’t have gone for her with her former “black” look. With this in mind, one thinks of The Breakfast Club as being less about rebellion and teen angst and more about conformity and fitting in. At one point, this idea was problematic for me. The common question to ask is, “Is Allison a sell-out?” This was a popular word during my generation, yet is it more appropriate to ask whether this is true to the teenage spirit? Teenagers aren’t about rebellion; rather, they are about fitting in. All teenagers want to fit in somewhere, whether it is with the popular group or their own group. If Allison had been beyond that, she was beyond her fellow Breakfast Clubbers and would have been somewhat bored by their inane nonsense. Besides, my generation was a reactive generation, but we weren’t an outwardly rebellious generation. In closing, I don’t have an answer, but once again, it falls in line with Huck Finn, a book without any real answers.

One more element of my original thinking on The Breakfast Club that has remained true is that despite the characters’ protestations that they won’t grow up like their parents, they will. They may have a harder time getting there than their parents did, but in the end, all of the fundamental issues and institutions will still be the same. Unfortunately.

I still don’t like The Breakfast Club. Pauline Kael probably put it best when she described The Breakfast Club as “a movie about a bunch of stereotypes who complain that other people see them as stereotypes.” Still, that is what my generation had become (and still often is), and, on some level, I have to appreciate an unvarnished view of a bunch of assholes. I don’t have to like it, and I don’t have to sympathize with it as John Hughes does. But I do have to respect it.

Twelve Monkeys

Directed by Terry Gilliam

Released January 1996

Viewed (for this particular writing) August 15, 2010

Bruce Willis stars as James Cole who is a prisoner in the future. In said future, humanity has been devastated by disease and lives underground. Those who have imprisoned Cole have decided to send him into the past to try to get information about the virus that has wiped out humanity. Of course, going into the past is never an easy thing, and it is further exacerbated by Cole’s violent disposition. When he does go back, he is written up as crazy, and he is institutionalized. While in the nuthouse, he comes across—if not an ally, then an open ear in Dr. Railly (Madeline Stowe). Through highways and byways, he goes back and forth through time, falls in love with Railly, and eventually refuses to go back to the future.

My description doesn’t do the movie justice, but Twelve Monkeys was made during the late 90s when unexpected plot twists and unpredictability were all the rage. This started after The Usual Suspects, a movie that Twelve Monkeys was released about six months after. Roger Ebert most adequately defines the plot-twist rage by calling it the “Kayser Soze Syndrome.” In his review of Fight Club, he specifically defined it, as follows: “a lot of recent films seem unsatisfied unless they can add final scenes that redefine the reality of everything that has gone before; call it the Keyser Söze syndrome.”

Needless to say, most of the movies that fell under the Keyser Söze syndrome were garbage (or at least, not noteworthy), Fight Club included. However, Twelve Monkeys did not fall under that category. In fact, it’s probably unfair to group Twelve Monkeys in the Keyser Söze syndrome category. The Usual Suspects happened to be the first of the redefined-reality movie that were released, but there were a number of redefined-reality movies released around that time (Seven is another that comes to mind) that were very good. Besides, iti  is highly unlikely that Twelve Monkeys, which once again was only released six months after The Usual Suspects, was even aware of Keyser Söze.

The first well-done aspect of Twelve Monkeys concerned way the time sequences were juggled. Also, Bruce Willis, as per usual, did a solid job as James Cole (more on that later), as did Brad Pitt as Jeffery, a loony Cole meets in the mental hospital that is the son of a leading biochemist. Brad Pitt is an interesting actor. A lot of people give him a bad rap because A) he’s extremely good looking and B) he’s surrounded by so much drama that it detracts from his movies. This isn’t to say Brad Pitt is a great actor, but in the right role—usually a lunatic or a somewhat stupid person—Pitt shines. For example, he was superb in Seven, Inglourious Basterds, as well as his dinky little role in True Romance.

Then there is Willis, who also tends to be outshined by the drama that surrounds him and the issue that he’s kind of goofy. One might also have to stretch the definition of “great” to call Willis a great actor. On the other hand, what is a “great” actor. Sean Penn is supposedly a “great actor,” yet all of the movies he makes are painfully average, mediocre, safe, innocuous, Academy Award-winning garbage. Meanwhile, Willis has an impressive resume: Pulp Fiction, Twelve Monkeys, Unbreakable, The Sixth Sense, Nobody’s Fool. Did his involvement in any of those projects makes him “great?” It’s impossible to say, but he does have an impressive oeuvre.

A couple of negatives about Twelve Monkeys­­—the love interest part of it was contrived and secondary. Maybe the real problem was that the movie didn’t take the time to fully develop it. It was necessary for the ending, but it needed more time to develop. Also, at times towards the end, some of Madeline Stowe’s parts were unnecessarily comedic. It would have been better off played straight.

Twelve Monkeys leaves the viewer with the paradox that Stowe’s character notes in relation to her work—the Cassandra Complex, based on the Greek mythological character Cassandra, who is given the gift of prophesy by Apollo. However, Apollo also makes sure that nobody believes her. In the end, who are the nutcases? After all, the people who are ruining the world are considered respectable, while often, the people who react against the ruiners are considered nutty. Cole is trapped with a vision that nobody believes, stuck between two worlds, one of which he loves but which considers him insane, and one of which he despises and in which he is imprisoned.

The Garr/Coleman/Mull Rule

Roger Ebert has a rule that has come to be known as the Stanton-Walsh rule. It states that,  “no movie featuring either Harry Dean Stanton or M. Emmet Walsh in a supporting role can be altogether bad.” To tell the truth, I have no idea where he originally wrote that. However, he does stand behind it, though he has come to claim that 1999’s Wild, Wild West invalidates that rule. As regards Stanton or Walsh, I can’t say one way or the other. It might be true, as I can’t think of any movies in which either of them were involved that was without some merit.

Nevertheless, I have my own rule. It is as follows: No movie that was made in the 70s or 80s and that features Teri Garr, Dabney Coleman, or Martin Mull can be entirely without merit.

I admit, I have not seen every movie that Teri Garr, Dabney Coleman, or Martin Mull made during that time. For example, I missed Teri Garr in The Sting II, which was probably awful. I also missed Martin Mull in pretty much everything he did after Clue (1985). Furthermore, the 80s was not a good time for movies, unless one considers box office receipts to be the sole arbiter of a movie’s quality. In fact, outside of maybe a few early 80s exceptions, the entire decade was devoid of any great movies. It was nothing more than Steven Spielberg and George Lucas movies, or Spielberg/Lucas knockoffs. All big-budget, soul-less, blockbuster garbage. A number of fun movies, but great? Still, the decade was the decade of the feel-good movie, and it was in that environment that I grew up, and, for better or worse, have a fondness for.

I’m not going to go over every movie they were in, or why I liked them. However, I will do a quick rundown of some of their better features.

Teri Garr: Young Frankenstein, Mr. Mom, Tootsie, Close Encounters of the Third Kind (this was before Spielberg got too wonderful for words. It was still Spielbergesque in the truest sense, but he didn’t lose his shit until The Color Purple and beyond. Besides, Teri Garr was in it), and After Hours. She was also in an episode of the original “Star Trek.”

Dabney Coleman: North Dallas Forty, Nine to Five, On Golden Pond, Tootsie, Modern Problems, War Games, The Muppets Take Manhattan, and Dragnet.

Martin Mull: My Bodyguard, Take this Job and Shove it, Mr. Mom, Private School, and Clue.

In the end, maybe this rule is flawed, and maybe Garr’s, Coleman’s, and Mull’s body of work don’t come close to M. Emmet Walsh, and Harry Dean Stanton. However, within the realm of really stupid, feel-good movies, nobody was as dependable as the Big Three.

 

Exit Through the Gift Shop

Viewed June 19, 2010

Exit Through the Gift Shop

Directed by Banksy

I was on the fence about whether to see this movie. I knew we were going to see a movie. I was itching to go to the movies. However, I was unsure about whether we would see Exit Through the Gift Shop or Please Give. Exit Through the Gift Shop’s premise vague. It had something to do with street art and it had something to do with Banksy. I am a big fan of street art and a big fan of Banksy, but I further noted that the movie was directed by Banksy. It is usually dangerous to watch a movie about a person that is directed by that same person. Furthermore,  the trailer wasn’t enticing. On the other hand, the trailer for Please Give was horrible and I knew there was no way we were going to see that nonsense. Finally, I checked out Roger Ebert’s review of Exit… and I was sold. Funny how these things work.

Ebert’s review noted how the primary focus of the movie was a French American with an absurd Inspector Clouseau accent and a “dashing mustache” and how this person followed street artists around documenting their art and their process. Furthermore, he gave the movie three and ½ stars (on a four star scale).

That a good reviewer is nothing more than a good writer with a well-expressed opinion (as opposed to some motherfucker who knows any more than anybody else) notwithstanding, the movie sounded interesting. So off we went.

Ebert’s description of the movie was accurate. However, I will start my bullshit by responding to something Ebert wrote in his review:

There are all kinds of graffiti. Much of it is ugly defacement, the kind of territorial marking a dog does so much more elegantly. That’s why Mayor Daley’s Graffiti Busters have my support and admiration. Some graffiti, however, is certainly art, as Norman Mailer was one of the first to argue in his book The Faith of Graffiti (1974). Banksy and others at his level, such as Guetta’s hero, Shepard Fairey, find ways to visually reinvent public spaces and make striking artistic statements.

I agree with Ebert in that not all graffiti is beautiful. As to whether it’s art, that depends upon one’s definition of art. However, putting aside the undeniably beautiful graffiti, consider the ugly stuff—the graffiti that is little more than “territorial marking.” One is left to ask what is the nature of that territorial marking? When one considers the environment in which graffiti is borne, doesn’t it make sense that people—castoffs and renegades; people who typically feel out of control of their own environment—doesn’t it make sense that such people would look to reclaim what should rightfully be theirs? Furthermore, doesn’t it make sense that the way many of these people reclaim their territory would be harsh and ugly? Finally, isn’t the primal need for a person to have some control over his own environment, especially when said environment is under the control of hostile overlords? And if that is the primal need of any person, isn’t “territorial marking,” however unseemly, as justifiable an action as any? Yes, the harsh and ugly “territorial markings” are arguably unproductive and transitory. However, they serve a definite purpose. In the environment where graffiti flourishes, it would be more a crime if there were nothing on the walls, beautiful or ugly, and people simply took their oppression without any fight or attempt at reclamation.

As for the movie, it was striking how Thierry—the aforementioned French American who documented street art and artists and is the main subject of this film—referred to the artists as “nice” on multiple occasions. Specifically, he was referring to their willingness to artistically express themselves and give the public access these beautiful things at no charge. When you think about that, isn’t “nice” the ideal word? Yet, going back to the graffiti task forces, isn’t this exactly what they are trying to stop, or more poignantly, control? And, in the end, isn’t control what everything is about? People strive for control. An average person strives for control over her own life. An oppressor strives to control others. Both the movie and I have a slanted view, yet it seems obvious who the real “bad guys” or criminals are.

This brings up the idea of modern law and modern society and how it denigrates the culture, lifestyle, and yes, art of the people within it. When you disrespect, and worse, make illegal, the art and culture of your own people, then your own people and their art and culture necessarily glorify their own illicitness. Right now, we live in a “Thug” world. The reason we live in a Thug world is because the establishment has told those making the music, making the art, those decorating the world, that they are no good. They are essentially asking the youth and their culture to give the establishment the bird. Needless to say, that is exactly what the youth and modern culture distributors are going to do.

Street art—good street art—like all art is by its nature subversive and both flying in the face of and building off of what came before it. A stronger culture accepts and even pays tribute to this. A weaker culture fights against it. The funny thing is it’s hard to say where our culture stands, because our culture doesn’t pay tribute to it. Rather, it attempts to buy it out and it’s hard to say how to feel about that. One can’t begrudge a motherfucker for making a living. However, if art—and specifically street art—is by its nature anti-establishment, what does it say when the art itself becomes part of the establishment? Part of the allure and greatness of the street art is that it is illegal whether that means it is illegally hanging a stencil up on private property or it is pissing on copywrite laws. The basic nature of street art is to say that these streets—all of this “private” property—is ours and we’re taking it back, creating beautiful things, and are having a good time doing it. So what happens when the art itself becomes private property?

Finally, there is Thierry, who eventually adopts the moniker of Mr. Brainwash (an awkward and clumsy moniker that sounds like it would be the moniker of a non-native American) and himself becomes an artist, and a painfully average artist at that. As the movie ended with Thierry hitting it big in the art world despite his lack of artistic talent, I was reminded of the Spike Jonez/Fatboy Slim video for “Praise You.” In the video, Spike Jonez gathers a troupe of dancers that are intentionally awful and seem to play a joke on everybody who is watching. The thing about Thierry aka MBW, is that most of these putzes don’t get the joke (or maybe they do which makes it even sadder). Banksy and Shepard Fairey get it—or rather they get that Thierry is not actually good—but Thierry doesn’t realize it. Furthermore, he makes a nice chunk of change selling his art that  “looks like everyone else’s.” In the end it’s sad on a number of different levels not the least of which Thierry is an artist of life—the life he has chosen to lead is like a piece of art. He’s just got no demonstrable talent, and perhaps that is the problem and maybe what drives him on.