I certainly won’t forget John Hughes. He made my high school years bearable. Well, he and some really, really good friends did.
To this day, in my opinion, The Breakfast Club remains one of those iconic movies that totally captured what it was like. “It” being high school — even though I went to an all-girl school, and even though I never had detention, I got it. Hell, I was living it. It felt to me that The Breakfast Club didn’t condescend, and it didn’t lie.
I completely loved the letter than Anthony Michael Hall’s character leaves for the douchebag principal. I thought about it all day yesterday:
“Dear Mr. Vernon, we accept the fact that we had to sacrifice a whole Saturday in detention for whatever it was we did wrong, but we think you’re crazy to make us write an essay telling you who we think we are. You see us as you want to see us… In the simplest terms and the most convenient definitions. But what we found out is that each one of us is a brain and an athlete and a basket case, a princess, and a criminal.
“Does that answer your question?… Sincerely yours, the Breakfast Club.”