"it's physically impossible for me to get happy"
I was re-reading Don’t You Forget About Me in the bath. It’s a book of essays on John Hughes movies. It got me to reminiscing, so I found Sixteen Candles and watched it.
Even at thirty it still resonates, maybe not as loud as it did way back when I was an actual teen, but the basic empathy is pretty much the same. It’s put me on an 80s trip, and I’m sitting here waiting for The Sure Thing to finish downloading as I type this.
I think the major difference between viewing Hughes movies as a kid and as an adult, is as a kid you whole-heartedly believe that your life is going to turn out that way, no question of a doubt.Things will be sorted, you’ll never have to question your own character and you’ll also fall in proper fairy tale love. As an adult, you feel a little let down that it didn’t work out that way, yet you’re still sort of naively hoping that at some stage soon your Hughes-esque reality will reveal itself, and then everything will be okay. You’ll just be happy.
I understand about the socio-economic factors, I know my Reaganite cinema, I know about the birth of the teen movie and what it’s function was, but knowing all of this doesn’t make me not want to believe it can be real.
That’s why John Hughes is a genius.
Okay enough, I’m starting to miss the boy who dances like John Cusack in Sixteen Candles.