John Hughes

Miracle on 34th Street (1994)

Miracle on 34th Street (1994)

(On Cable TV, December 2019) If there’s a time for being sappy, nostalgic, and sentimental, then Christmas is it. Consequently, there’s no use getting mad at a Miracle on 34th Street remake being sappy, nostalgic, and sentimental: That’s the point of it. Polishing the 1940s original by giving it an antagonist, a slightly different ending and not obsessing so much about a character being a divorcee, this remake (penned by John Hughes) does a creditable job bringing the story forward nearly fifty years while keeping its core sentimentality. Briefly summarized, it’s about the judicial system trying to prove whether an old man is indeed Santa Claus—the answer is unsurprising, but it’s getting there that’s important. The Manhattan setting of duelling department stores is oddly comforting, although adding an explicit antagonist does nothing good to the story. I’m divided on the decision to replace the original’s, “bags of letters” resolution in favour of a more abstract “in God we trust” climax, but that may just be the separation-of-church-and-state rationalist in myself speaking—and rationalists need not apply to this movie. At least the acting credentials are fine—Richard Attenborough gets the role of a lifetime playing Santa (was that a spoiler?), while Elizabeth Perkins and Dylan McDermott make for a cute romantic lead. There’s something noteworthy in the film’s cinematography, in that it really does go for the full “soft Technicolor” mood of earlier eras, with characters being shot in diffuse light and strongly backlit to stand out. More accessible but less magical than the original film, this Miracle on 34th Street is fine—we can quibble on the details and its more markedly mercenary intention, but it still works relatively well, and completely understands what it’s trying to be.

Dutch (1991)

Dutch (1991)

(On TV, November 2019) It’s not hard to watch Dutch and wonder what screenwriter-producer John Hughes was thinking in putting together the story. As a buddy-comedy road movie on the eve of Thanksgiving, it clearly apes his own Planes, Trains and Automobiles. It does crank up the drama by featuring not two strangers brought together by circumstances, but a gruff construction man trying to bond with a bratty teenager who may become his step-son. At that point, the film could have gone anywhere as a zany farce or a manipulative offering … and it does. Meaning that we get people shot in the groin with a BB gun, plenty of crazy adventures, quite a bit of personal property destruction, and the heartwarming aw-they-really-love-each-other maudlin moments in the end. The tonal control isn’t there from one moment to another, and if Dutch hangs together, it’s thanks to Ed O’Neill doing his best in a role that asks him to be both a credible middle-aged man and a cartoonish butt of physical comedy. Intensely predictable in structure but chaotic in a scene-to-scene scope, Dutch should work in the end but doesn’t feel as if it has a middle.

Some Kind of Wonderful (1987)

Some Kind of Wonderful (1987)

(On Cable TV, July 2019) Now that I’ve seen Some Kind of Wonderful, I think I’ve completed the high points of my John Hughes filmography. Hugues only wrote this film (it was directed by Hughes stalwart Howard Deutch), but it’s clearly his movie, and a response to previous scripts of his. Eric Stoltz stars as an unconventional teenager lusting after the unapproachable girl in his class yet blind to the affection of his own tomboy best friend. It’s not a complicated premise (and you already know how it’s going to end) but it’s the details and the performances along the way that make it worthwhile. Lea Thompson and Mary Stuart Masterson make for a ridiculously good pair of duelling romantic interests for the protagonist, while Craig Sheffer plays the unlikable ex-boyfriend perfectly and Elias Koteas has a surprisingly engaging turn as a skinhead. There are a few rough spots along the way (I’m not happy about the 180 romantic turn that the film takes very late—I mean, I know where it was going to end, but I just wish the transition would have been smoother), but if you like the 1980s Hughes teen comedies, Some Kind of Wonderful is probably one of his savvier scripts even if it lacks the spark that made some of his other movies become classics.

The Great Outdoors (1988)

The Great Outdoors (1988)

(On TV, April 2019) When I say that The Great Outdoors is about taking a trip, it’s not necessarily in the way reflected by the plot of the film. Yes, sure, it’s superficially about two brothers and their families spending a week at a lake cabin, and the various tensions between the brothers playing themselves out. But in more significant ways to twenty-first century viewers, The Great Outdoors is a trip back in time, to an era with a very specific aesthetic when it comes to dumb comedies. Written by John Hughes, directed by Howard Deutch, starring John Candy and Dan Aykroyd, you can clearly associate the film with the mainstream of mid-to-late-1980s American comedies. For anyone on a steady diet of more modern films, it’s a different experience watching a dumb 1980s comedy, with its painfully obvious plotting, shot dumb gags and abandoned emotional arcs. (I’m not saying modern movies are smarter—but the stylistic conventions are different.)  But dumb 1980s films can be reasonably fun, so if you can tolerate the expected gags and predictable third-act plot developments, the end result isn’t too bad—especially considering how The Great Outdoors does a lot of mileage on Candy and Aykroyd’s pure comic talents, with Candy as a goofy dad and Aykroyd as a fast-talking urbanite. (Meanwhile, Annette Bening’s screen debut here is probably an early shame considering her later body of work.)  There are a few things I really liked—notably the use of “Yakety Yak” at the beginning of the film, and the very funny scenes featuring subtitled raccoon talk. The Great Outdoors is not a great film, but it does have an amiable quality to it: if nothing else, it’s not mean-spirited at all in showing some heartwarming family moments.

She’s Having a Baby (1988)

She’s Having a Baby (1988)

(In French, On TV, April 2019) On paper, She’s Having a Baby has the simplest story in the book, or perhaps the one that takes place years after the credits roll on any high school romantic comedy, as two high school sweethearts get married and try to figure out what to do as grown-ups. But the twist here is that our protagonist is a writer, which gives to the film both an ironic narration and multiple flights of impressionistic fancy that take the film in between reality and pure imagination. It feels a lot like an overly literal literary adaptation, even though it’s an original film from noted writer-director John Hughes. The result, with its tonal and cinematographic shifts, is still a lot of fun to watch today even though the result is significantly uneven: some of the (day)dream sequences are very funny, while others feel out of place and not especially insightful or funny. Still, Kevin Bacon is good as the protagonist, and a bunch of capable actors surround him. (This being one of Hugues’s late-1980s movies after a string of hits, he was able to arrange for several noteworthy cameos in the ending credit sequence.)  The 1980s soundtrack is dated, but thankfully not overexposed. The danger is having a film that leaps from reality to fantasy in such a way is that it creates a sense of unfulfilled potential, as whatever we can imagine doesn’t measure up to what the film gets up to. So it is that She’s Having a Baby leaves us slightly disappointed, perhaps wanting more, perhaps disappointed at the lack of surprises (making the fantasy even more important), perhaps feeling as if the film never reaches its potential. Still, it’s not a bad watch—and if my notes are correct, this was the last Hugues-directed film I hadn’t yet seen.

Curly Sue (1991)

Curly Sue (1991)

(On TV, February 2019) As much as John Hughes dominated the 1980s comedy landscape, his decline in the 1990s was rapid and definitive. Curly Sue earns a special spot in his filmography by being the last movie he ever directed, after which he focused on producing and screenwriting before gradually retiring from Hollywood. It’s not exactly a high note on which to stop, but you don’t have to squint to find the Hughes touch even in the middle of a strictly formulaic product. From the moment we understand the dynamic between the main characters (a middle-aged man and a young girl as a con-artist team) and meet the missing part of the triangle, there’s not a whole lot left for the script but to go through the motions of mawkish sentimentalism. But Curly Sue’s workable premise is hampered with execution issues. The film aims much younger than it should, and the caricatures in lieu of characters are fit to frustrate adult watchers. (Family films aren’t particularly good if the whole family doesn’t enjoy them.) The needlessly violent slapstick doesn’t help in grounding the weak result. In terms of actors, the result is a mixed bag. Much depends on the young Alisan Porter in the title role and she is fortunately up to the task. The same can be said of Kelly Lynch as a wealthy divorce lawyer. Alas, the film does depend a lot on the inexplicable confidence that 1990ish Hollywood had in James Belushi as a leading man—the film would have been significantly different with another actor in his role. There is some skill in the way the plot pieces are moves around, but Curly Sue is disappointing even for Hughes completists.

Planes, Trains & Automobiles (1987)

Planes, Trains & Automobiles (1987)

(Second viewing, On TV, May 2018) screenwriter/director John Hughes’ Planes, Trains and Automobiles is a comedy classic for a reason—it makes great use of two comic actors (Steve Martin and John Candy), features a series of memorable sequences, plays on universal annoyances and doesn’t forget to add a little bit of sentiment toward the end to temper the comedy. Everyone can relate to uncontrollable delays and setbacks in trying to get home for the holidays, and Hughes pushes it to the limit in describing what else can happen to two harried travellers. (The film reaches a comic apex of sort during its fiery highway sequence.)  Martin plays exasperated as well as Candy plays exasperator, and the result couldn’t be better. It’s not a complex film, and it works largely because of this straightforwardness. It’s worth another viewing every few thanksgivings.

Sixteen Candles (1984)

Sixteen Candles (1984)

(On TV, August 2017) In retrospect, it may have been a mistake to watch Sixteen Candles the day after Pretty in Pink—while the two films are different, there are enough points in common between those two Molly Ringwald-starring, John Hugues-scripted teenage romantic comedies to blur the edges between the two. Sixteen Candles, to its credit, does have a better premise—what if, in the hustle and bustle of a big wedding, the sixteenth birthday of the younger sister was completely forgotten? Much of the rest of the picture is conventional high school romantic comedy stuff, but the concept is clever and allows the action to be packed within a short period of time without feeling unnatural. To its distinction (shared with other Hughes scripts), Sixteen Candles is suggestive without being raunchy, and treats its teenage characters like full persons rather than archetypes. It’s far more respectable than other teen movies, although it doesn’t escape frowns for some terrible Asian stereotyping and a sequence with a drunk girl that would have nearly everyone justifiably pulling their hair in outrage today. Ringwald, once again, makes for a uniquely appealing teenage heroine, while Anthony Michael Hall is curiously likable in a potentially grating role. Pay attention, and you will see Joan and John Cusack show up in small roles. Sixteen Candles wraps up in a very likable fashion and while it’s not a particularly profound film, it skillfully made with enough charm to satisfy. But then again I’m not exactly the target audience for the film any more.

Pretty in Pink (1986)

Pretty in Pink (1986)

(On TV, August 2017) As far as girl-meets-boy high school movies go, it’s hard to find a more representative example of the form as Pretty in Pink. The script, by a classic-era John Hughes, is witty and clever while aimed squarely at the teenage set. The eighties atmosphere is strong without being overpowering, while Howard Deutch’s unobtrusive direction gets all the pieces moving in the same direction. Molly Ringwald definitely has a unique appeal in this film while Annie Potts also claims a few highlights, and this quirkiness has contributed to the film’s continued appeal even today—it’s from a familiar recipe, but not so bland as to be undistinguishable from so many other similar films. I can see the appeal of the film for a certain audience, even though I have to admit that I’m not part of that audience.

Uncle Buck (1989)

Uncle Buck (1989)

(On TV, June 2017) Wikipedia tells me that Uncle Buck has, in the years since its release, become something of a cult movie. As usual, this kind of statement either resonates or is met by a blank face. In my case, imagine the blank face: While it’s not a bad movie, Uncle Buck doesn’t always know what it wants to be. The title character is alternately goofy, dangerous, serious and incompetent in short succession. The film has a solid arc, but the sketches that fill out the progression of this arc are inconsistent and seem to vary according to the whims of writer/director John Hughes more than any organic progression. To be fair, Uncle Buck does coasts a long time on the charm of John Candy and many of Hughes’s leitmotifs, starting with the sullen teenager in need of guidance (here Jean Louisa Kelly). It’s also easy to see how Home Alone sprang from Uncle Buck with the “mail slot” scene featuring Mackauley Caulkin. Some of the set-pieces are, indeed, quite good (such as the noir-spoof visit to the school director) … but it’s their disconnectedness that stops the film from feeling more satisfying. In the meantime, what we have is another piece in Hughes’s solid filmography, uneven but still entertaining on its own.

Ferris Bueller’s Day Off (1986)

Ferris Bueller’s Day Off (1986)

(Second viewing, On DVD, April 2017) We can probably agree that a character like Ferris Bueller is a malignant sociopath who would be toxic in real life, but that doesn’t make Ferris Bueller’s Day Off any less than a success as a teen comedy. Issued by the John Hughes mid-eighties teen comedy factory, this is nonetheless a film that escapes from the usual formulas of the subgenre, taking an unconventional approach and defying caution in its ultimate objectives. Bueller himself is a memorable piece of work, manipulative and reckless yet almost immediately charming in the way he directly addresses the audience to gain their confidence. A gifted con artist, he is the driver but not the protagonist of the story, as he brings enlightenment to friends and siblings during the course of a single day off school. Matthew Broderick manages the heroic task of keeping Bueller likable, but it’s Alan Ruck who gets the film’s most dramatically significant role as a perpetually depressed friend shaken out of his rut by Ferris’s actions. Mia Sarah (in a dull role) and Jennifer Gray (in a far better one) are fine in the two female lead roles, although I’ve never quite warmed to Jeffrey Jones’s principal character. Then there is Chicago, lavishly showcased through most of the movie from the perspective of suburban teens heading downtown for fun. Surprising bits of philosophy pepper a script that breaks the fourth wall and attempts a few unconventional objectives. (Everyone likes “Life moves pretty fast. If you don’t stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it,” but I’m more partial to “The question isn’t ‘what are we going to do’, the question is ‘what aren’t we going to do?’”) The humour often veers from its good-natured realism to outlandish absurdity (as in the escalating “Save Ferris” moments), but it’s rarely mean-spirited even in its harshest moments. It’s fascinating that writer/director John Hugues both created a mold for the teen comedy and then broke it with this film—many people have imitated The Breakfast Club or Sixteen Candles, but Ferris Bueller’s Day Off remains sui generis even today. I saw this film at least once decades ago, but it more than holds up today. Despite the easy and often cheap appeals at defying authority, there’s a countervailing element of living life moment-by-moment that’s hard to ignore.

National Lampoon’s Vacation (1983)

National Lampoon’s Vacation (1983)

(Second viewing, On DVD, February 2017) Movies become semi-classics for a reason, and the appeal of National Lampoon’s Vacation can be found in nearly-universal nostalgic reminiscences of childhood road trips to visit some far-off destination. That’s the vein that John Hughes picked up in giving life to the episodic Vacation, featuring Chevy Chase as a bumbling dad trying to ensure happy holidays for his family. Nearly thirty-five years later, there’s a pleasant eighties patina over the film, but many of the gags remain just as funny today. (There are exceptions, of course—some scenes, such as the saloon fake-shootout, remain more mystifying than anything else.) It’s a great piece of Americana, a rather good showcase for Chevy Chase’ comic persona, and it remains a fairly solid touch-point for references even today. Plus you’ll get to hum “Holiday Road” for days. It’s not my favourite of the series (that honour goes to Christmas Vacation), but it’s solid enough to show why it remains popular even today.

Weird Science (1985)

Weird Science (1985)

(Second Viewing: On DVD, July 2011) At this point, I shouldn’t be surprised if movies I dimly remembered as being hilarious end up just on the amusing side of funny.  Unfortunately, Weird Science goes to join the ranks of eighties comedies that just aren’t as good as they should have been.  The central idea in seeing two nerds create “the perfect woman” thanks to some modern hocus-pocus is still potent (albeit maybe a bit less amusing nowadays given the age difference between the actors) and the film does have a few good scenes.  But the connective tissue between those scenes… and the mismatch between the possibilities of the premise and what’s up on the screen is just annoying.  Part of the problem, especially for viewers schooled in fantasy fiction, is the film’s very loose adherence to a coherent imaginative framework: everything seems possible in the film, and while this carries its own reward (let’s face it: the Pershing missile thing is still one of the film’s finest moments), it also unmoors the film and sends it in fantasyland where the stakes are low because everything’s possible –it’s far, far better to file Weird Science under “teen comedy”  rather than “fantasy” or “science-fiction”.  Both the plot and the characters are underdeveloped, and don’t go much beyond “two good kids learn a lesson”.  The overacting in the film is a bit surprising twenty-five years later.  Weird Science, seen from 2011, doesn’t quite hold together, and definitely seems like a minor John Hughes teen comedy when compared to the rest of his eighties filmography.  Still, the film still warrants a look today for a couple of reasons: It has aged reasonably well, turning itself into an unabashed time capsule of the mid-eighties in their weird Reganian splendour.  (Mid-riff shirts?  Why???) It also remains one of Kelly LeBrock’s defining performances: being asked to play “the perfect woman” to two horny teenagers is a tough order, but she manages to make it look easy.  The film also features early roles for Bill Paxton and Robert Downey Jr., and a catchy theme song that eighties kids probably still remember.  Weird Science certainly isn’t perfect, but in the right mood it’s a charming throwback to another time –a perfect movie for a quiet evening.