Director: John Hughes
Screenplay: John Hughes
Starring: Molly Ringwald, Judd Nelson, Ally Sheedy, Emilo Estevez
Country: US
Running Time: 97 mins
Year: 1985
BBFC Certificate: 15

It’s tricky reviewing The Breakfast Club when you’re in your 40s – are any criticisms you may have legitimate, or just evidence that your heart is dead? From its opening quotation of lyrics from David Bowie’s Changes, the film proudly embraces the fact that it takes a partisan view in the endless war between youth and experience. Its five teenage protagonists, for all their differences, share contempt for the adult rules and expectations that find them stuck together for an eight-hour Saturday school detention. Later, once they’ve got to know each other a little better, they tell stories of the many ways their parents and teachers have let them down. Allison, played by Ally Sheedy and up to then the quietest of the bunch, sums up their experiences by declaring, “when you grow up your heart dies.” It’s not a view writer-director John Hughes necessarily agreed with- he was 35 when the film came out and only two years later would make Trains, Planes and Automobiles – but it’s the sentiment that powers The Breakfast Club. Hughes remembered how it felt to be a teen – the intensity, the injustice, the bewilderment – and this was his most direct, and successful evocation of those feelings.

A big part of its success is the casting. Famously, when we first meet them, the five pupils are all ‘types’: a brain, an athlete, a basket case, a princess, and a criminal. Molly Ringwald and Anthony Michael Hall (the only two genuine teenagers) had worked with Hughes before and refined their earlier performances. As Claire the princess, Ringwald added a mask of privilege to Sixteen Candles’ Samantha; as Brian the brain, Hall stripped away the unearned confidence he displayed in Sixteen Candles and Weird Science. Emilo Estevez is wholly convincing as the earnest and slightly dull athlete (named Andy, not that you’d remember). The showiest roles belong to Sheedy (Allison is the basket case) and Judd Nelson as Bender the criminal. Nelson dominates the first half of the film, making Bender intentionally, aggressively obnoxious and provocative. From the midpoint, though, his character softens (a locker full of marijuana helps), allowing the others to open up. For Sheedy, this means actually speaking at all – for the first hour Allison glowers from the back row, making odd noises and sugar sandwiches. After that she gets all the best lines.

In addition to the teens, Hughes also aces the few grown-ups. Paul Gleason is fantastically petty and frustrated as the Vice-principal assigned to run the detention. For all his power over the kids now, he knows that they will get to leave, while he is stuck there. At the other end of the spectrum is John Kapelos as Carl the janitor, a much wiser and calmer presence.

Like all its characters, though, The Breakfast Club has issues. It was originally written and shot to be over two hours, before being hacked back by veteran editor Dede Allen. Hughes acknowledges in the special features that the film benefitted from the pruning, but in places it barely hangs together, with odd jumps in continuity and tone. Some of the humour, particularly an ‘upskirt’ gag involving Ringwald and Nelson, is showing its age. But the biggest problem remains the ending afforded Allison. While the five bond and – eventually – embrace each other’s quirks, Allison is taken aside by Claire and ‘made over’, stripping away her black clothes and make-up. The result is roundly praised by the others, and seems to open the possibility of a relationship with Andy. While some (not least in the special features) have tried to justify the change as a rare bonding moment between the two female characters, rather than a need to curtail Allison’s individuality, it’s a disappointingly conservative conclusion. When you grow up your heart may die, but when you’re young you’re not allowed to be too weird.

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As a beloved teen film, The Breakfast Club has had its share of re-releases and special editions, including 25th and 30th anniversary blu-rays featuring documentaries and a commentary, so for Criterion to do their own edition it needed to be something special. It is. The remaster, the commentary (with Judd Nelson and Anthony Michael Hall) and the longest documentary (a very good ‘making of’ with most of the cast and some celebrity fans) are all taken from previous editions, but Criterion have put together an outstanding selection of new features. Of these, the most eye-catching is 51 minutes of deleted and extended scenes. These were long thought lost and only recently turned up on a VHS tape. They aren’t earth-shattering, and most should be considered extensions rather than wholly new sequences, but they are fascinating and a couple are important omissions: Carl gets a much longer speech where he predicts the teens’ adult futures, and the ‘break-out’ sequence is longer, to the benefit of Allison and Claire’s characters.

All of the rest of the content is devoted to the cast and crew. Molly Ringwald and Ally Sheedy have recorded new video interviews and (like Nelson and Hall on the commentary) still treasure their experiences on the film, describing Hughes as a creative and caring collaborator. Also made specially for this release, Nelson reads from Hughes production notes, which demonstrate how clearly he saw the characters, if not the film’s final structure. From the archive, Nelson, Sheedy and Paul Gleason all appear in interviews recorded in 1984, as well as ‘studio teacher’ Irene Brafstein. All five of the main teen cast appear in a 10-minute segment from a 1985 episode of NBC’s Today, as well as a 24-minute ‘electronic press kit’ that includes profiles of Hughes and Dee Allen. These are the only appearances from Emilio Estevez in the extra features.

Finally there are three excellent audio-only features. Hughes was recorded giving a seminar for the American Film Institute in 1985. It’s a 48-minute tour of his career and filmmaking goals. In 1999 he appeared on the Chicago-based radio show Sound Opinions to talk about his use of music. At 17 minutes it’s not as in-depth, but Hughes talks enthusiastically about one of his favourite subjects. And in 2014, Molly Ringwald appeared on This American Life to talk about watching The Breakfast Club with her daughter, now very much seeing things from the parents’ perspective.

As a package, it’s a comprehensive and nostalgic behind-the-scenes look at the film. Unusually for a Criterion historical release, there aren’t any scholarly contributions on the disc. Even the essay in the accompanying booklet, by Vanity Fair writer David Kamp, is more love letter than analysis. But for fans, this really is an essential purchase.

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Review by Jim Whalley

The Breakfast Club - Criterion
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