You may or may not be surprised, but I hate films about high school and teenagers in general. Why? It’s very simple: The teenage and school experience is not as romantic, humorous or exciting as it’s made out to be. It’s a little painful to watch how unaffected the students in “10 Things I Hate About You” are regarding their studies, and it’s an entirely different beast to watch Ferris Bueller in his high school fantasy film.
My track record for this column so far is sarcasm, satire and dark humor. Predictably, the one, single, only teenage and school drama I like is a sarcastic, satirical and darkly humorous film from 1985. At just 107 minutes, “The Breakfast Club” is “short” compared to today’s three-hour-long sagas, but I assure you, it couldn’t — and shouldn’t — be a second under or over its runtime.
The basic synopsis is that five totally different high school students are locked in a room together for an all-day Saturday detention.
“Yet in the spirit of optimism, ‘The Breakfast Club’ demonstrates that though everyone has their own problems, we can come to an understanding so long as we offer each other some grace.”
Brian is a “brain” — he, like me, spends his time between the library and class and is a true nerd. Andrew is the “athlete” — blond, cocky, buff, while Allison is the “basket case” — talks to no one and wears strange clothes. Claire is the “princess” — beautiful, popular, seemingly vapid, and John is the “criminal” — he ditches, deals and derides.
Their principal, Vernon, who thinks teenagers are little better than vermin, assigns them to each write a 1000-word essay about who they think they are. But there’s nothing more to any of them than those titles — why would there be? They’re just teenagers — teenagers who are mercurial, selfish, avaricious and unkind.
They say ‘like understands like,’ so it only makes sense that similarly young, mercurial, selfish, avaricious and unkind beings would understand each other. Brian, Andrew, Allison, Claire and John have all day to understand each other. And come to understand each other they do.
By the time their parents come to pick them up, they realize they’re not so isolated as they once believed: They all, admittedly differently, understand the terrible decade of the teenage years. But that age-old story of horrible teenagers is the bedrock of this film. Teenagers are perhaps pygmy adults: We’re partway there but seem to be missing the crucial pieces.
For the adults, how do the five explain themselves? Who are they? “In the simplest terms with the most convenient definitions,” Brian reads at the film’s conclusion, “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?”
I enjoy the movie so much because teenage life, and life in general, isn’t perfect. That’s the genius of this movie: “The Breakfast Club” articulates simply that high school isn’t a youthful, glittery safe space — far from it. High school is one of the most dangerous places because it’s one of the last arenas in which adolescents can try out personas and identities before the harsh reality of the real world. Yet, in the spirit of optimism, “The Breakfast Club” demonstrates that though everyone has their own problems, we can come to an understanding so long as we offer each other some grace.
