It is late, and I only slept about three hours last night, so there is no way I could give a proper obituary for John Hughes, who died in New York Thursday morning. Still, something must be said.
I do not think I'm the only person in my age group whose life would be significantly different if John Hughes had decided to continue his career in advertising rather than try his hand at writing scripts. If I were to list my top ten favorite movies of all-time, I'm pretty sure John Hughes would have a hand in at least four of them--"National Lampoon's Vacation"; "Planes, Trains, and Automobiles"; "National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation"; and "Uncle Buck." Then there's "Ferris Bueller's Day Off," "The Great Outdoors," "Dutch," "Home Alone," and "Career Opportunities," all of which I don't pass by when I see them on TV (I'll admit the last of those might be poor judgment on my part, but, come on, Jennifer Connelly). And that's not even going into the Ringwald ouevre, which I've either never seen in one sitting ("The Breakfast Club") or never seen at all ("Pretty in Pink" and "Sixteen Candles") but are doubtless classics in the eyes of many. Plus, without him, such phrases as "Those aren't pillows," "Merry Christmas! Shitter was full!" and "Moley's Russell's wart" would not come out of my mouth on a semiregular basis. And that would be sad.
I assume it's probably not cool to say John Hughes is my all-time favorite filmmaker, but, well, you may have guessed already that I'm not cool. So I'm standing by my decision to revere John Hughes. My childhood would certainly have been a bit emptier without his movies (and, believe me, it was plenty empty as it was), and, so, as he heads off to his rest, I thank him.
Let's watch some clips (some NSFW...well, maybe all, but they all make me laugh):
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