Like Neon

It’s strange to think that we’re currently living in a time when the name John Hughes isn’t automatically recognized by everyone I know. Never fear, I’m not going to get all maudlin about getting older or anything ridiculous like that (And being only 31, it would definitely be ridiculous), but the fact remains that Hughes’ sudden death this past Thursday feels distinctly like the closing of a critical chapter of cinematic history.

If you weren’t alive for most of the Eighties, it’s probably going to be difficult to comprehend the impact of John Hughes’ work. The decade was permeated by memorable films that he had some hand in creating, either as a writer, director or producer. Gems that came directly from Hughes’ brain include Pretty in Pink, The Breakfast Club and Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, not to mention all three National Lampoon Vacation movies — Films that were instant classics and linger in our social consciousness even now, over twenty years later.

Hughes created so many cherished films that it’s difficult to choose a favorite from his catalog. It was Hughes that introduced me to actors like Matthew Broderick, Molly Ringwald and even Michael Keaton, who had done very little noteworthy work before starring in the Hughes-penned Mr. Mom in 1983. Hughes had the rare ability to write films that were both clever and widely appealing. The advent of the Nineties saw Hughes’ work take a turn for the campy and forgettable, but he has a solid, undeniable legacy in the Eighties. He was one of the best things about the decade, and I have to believe that when future generations look back, he’ll continue to be recognized as one of the people who so critically defined it.