Oh, come on. Really? Sad for his family, of course. He was a human being first, and for his family I am deeply sorry.
But he was an icon for millions of kids who came of age in the 80s. Gys, no person made me feel like less of an outcast; no writer made me feel sure I would find a place in the world; no artist made me feel more at home.
Oh, Mr. Hughes, thank you for your movies. Pretty in Pink, Breakfast Club, Some Kind of Wonderful, and Ferris Bueller’s Day Off were what made high school tolerable. Were what made me feel better about my awkward, painful, social outcast years. Are still what I turn to when I need to feel at home.
Oh, Mr. Hughes. I still quote your films. Almost daily. I still live in the hope that you’ll write a film about a totally lost, out of her element, thirty-something mom.
And now you won’t.
Mr. Hughes, could you make a few movies for the dorks and dweebs and losers amongst us, who, at mid-life, still haven’t figured it out, and who were holding out hope that the popular and not-nice people in high school would turn out painfully unattractive (pockmarked with the reality of their blotchy souls or at least saggy and droopy from the ill-advised production and subsequent ignoring of their spawn) and unemployed (or at least pursuing some morally turgid career like RNC strategist) and perversely alone, but who facebook now shows us are all toned and tanned and really rich and by no means socially ostracized as we had so hoped they would be? One, ideally, that shows us how we might still have a chance at making a difference and being loved by the people who are beautiful on the inside and who really will, soon, shun the same shallow and vapid people they were *supposed* to have shunned by graduation, at the latest?!
Kind of like a Thirty-Eight Candles or The ‘Why Bother with Breakfast When My Life is in the Toilet’ Club or something?