By Julia Leonard

The powerful opening chords of Simple Minds’ “Don’t You Forget About Me” welcome the viewer to a world of New Wave music, fingerless gloves, and John Hughes teen films. This is a world in which a silent Saturday detention is a form of discipline for high school students, shouting can shatter glass, and a brain, an athlete, a basket case, a princess, and a criminal can all become friends. The Breakfast Club turned 40 this year, and its compelling story and timeless message make it a must-watch for those of us coming of age in the 21st century. 

The Breakfast Club, directed by John Hughes, was released in theaters on February 7, 1985. The film stars Emilio Estevez, Paul Gleason, Anthony Michael Hall, Molly Ringwald, Judd Nelson, and Ally Sheedy. The cast and crew worked together to create the perfect chemistry between characters, dialogue that is simultaneously dramatic and believable, and a story which the young actors felt accurately reflected the lives of American teenagers. The film depicts a Saturday detention at a public high school with a group of the most mismatched people imaginable. This group includes the brain Brian Johnson, the athlete Andrew Clark, the basket case Allison Reynolds, the princess Claire Standish, and the criminal John Bender. Each student has a unique social circle and home life. No one wants to be at this detention, and none of the students know why the others are there. The five students are required to spend all day sitting in silence in the school library and write an essay about who they think they are. Despite their instructions, the students spend the entire day getting to know each other through arguments, misadventures, and an impromptu group therapy session which shows this motley crew that they have more in common than they realized. 

The five students are required to spend all day sitting in silence in the school library and write an essay about who they think they are. Despite their instructions, the students spend the entire day getting to know each other through arguments, misadventures, and an impromptu group therapy session which shows this motley crew that they have more in common than they realized. 

Even though this has since become one of my favorite films, I at first found it excessively vulgar and unsettlingly accurate in its portrayal of growing up while struggling to communicate your thoughts with your parents and peers. Having previously enjoyed Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, a film by the same director, I had high expectations. However, these expectations were initially shaken. The raw emotion with which each actor delivered his or her most shocking confessions had its intended effect, and I was heartbroken by their experiences. Additionally, the brutal way in which the characters verbally, and even physically, attack each other as they struggle to find their place in a setting where their reputation and social standing can no longer protect them is jarring. None of the characters are without significant and unflattering flaws. Despite such mixed feelings upon my first viewing, the complex characters and their simple yet powerful stories never left my mind. The film’s ultimately encouraging message is that, no matter how different each person’s experiences are, they can always find common ground. I remembered not only the pain, but also the healing which each character experienced through their vulnerability and humility. Subsequent viewings showed me the attention to detail in the characters’ presentation, the flaws and lovable attributes of each teen, and why people talk about this film forty years after its release.  

Judd Nelson gives a stunning performance as the film’s de facto protagonist, the rebellious burnout John Bender. Everything from the sloppy way in which he sits down at a table when the group first enters the library to the slouching and swaggering way he walks suggest a person who is, or wants to appear, unaffected by the opinions of those around him. However, his intense stare and keen interest in the students around him belies his apparent indifference. He speaks with the same confidence in the vulnerable moments when he shares the traumatic experiences that have shaped him, yet his demeanor afterwards tells a different story. His inability to speak with his peers, whom he formerly loved tormenting, after someone questions his story shows the viewer the pain that lies behind this rebel’s bravado. We still see plenty of this bravado. He delivers the film’s most shocking and offensive lines with such self-seriousness that the viewer is left sufficiently uncomfortable as he criticizes the athlete for his success as a wrestler, the brain for the love which he imagines he must receive from his parents, and the princess for her material wealth and popularity. As uncomfortable as these moments can be to watch, Bender’s behavior provides a catalyst for the film’s plot. He knows how to attack his peers where he knows it will hurt them most, eliciting responses that reveal their true characters, their fears and weaknesses. However, Bender not only uses his wit to insult his peers, but he also delivers some of the movie’s funniest lines with the same intentionality. Nelson pulls off Bender’s idiosyncratic word choice flawlessly with his animated facial expressions and his impeccable timing. He truly gave the performance of a lifetime.

Judd Nelson’s character may have many of The Breakfast Club’s best lines, but Anthony Michael Hall rivals Nelson for dramatic prowess in his portrayal of the brain, Brian Johnson. Bender is the movie’s most dramatic character as he forces much of the plot’s progress, but Brian is the most dynamic character, growing in confidence and self-awareness as he learns how to stand up for himself in the face of parental and societal pressure. Hall perfectly plants the seeds for this development early in the film with his timid but incisive remarks. His counting the amount of future detentions Bender incurs over the course of this detention never fails to make me laugh. He flawlessly conveys his character’s nerdiness and desire to prove himself when he stumbles over his words while attempting to tell his fellow students about his many extra-curricular activities. As the day goes on, Brian becomes more fun, more vulnerable, and more sure of his own worth. His heartbreaking monologue in one of the movie’s final scenes perfectly showcases Hall’s emotional range and makes this yet another stunning performance. 

While excellent line and monologue delivery is a large contributing factor to the effectiveness of Nelson and Hall’s acting, acting is not only talking. Ally Sheedy demonstrates how much an actor can say without speaking. Her character, the reclusive Allison Reynolds, is too afraid to say a word for the first half of the film. However, the way she hides part of her face in her coat, aggressively bites her nails, and slams her entire body onto the table when the students are confronted by the principal tell us all we need to know about how she is perceived at this high school. Allison minimizes herself by wearing dark clothing and makeup and not engaging with her fellow students, yet Sheedy’s intentionality with each motion maximizes her effect on the audience. 

The success of this film is largely due to the electric performances of each actor, yet the directorial choices also make it an entertaining and moving film. It achieves the seemingly impossible feat of making people talking to each other for an hour and a half engaging. In an era when movies are plagued by bloated run times, I never once felt my attention wandering while I watched this film. Characters either look at each other with glances that immediately reveal how situations make them feel or perform some action that is entirely consistent with their archetype, or, as the film progresses, their identity. In particular, the prop selection demonstrates the film’s attention to detail. For example, in one scene, the characters are rifling through each other’s personal belongings and discussing what they find. Brian, the nerd, has a fake ID in his wallet so that he can vote, Claire, the princess, has a container of makeup, and Allison, the basket case, carries all of her worldly possessions. While The Breakfast Club never drags, it is content to sit in the moment as long as is necessary for the characters to reach an end to their conversation, adding to the natural feel of the film. It feels more like a play than a movie with the limited set and the heavy emphasis on dialogue for driving the plot. The minimalist set, however, provides a natural limitation within which the story must be developed. The students are not permitted to leave the library, so pieces within the room: a book by Moliere, a statue, a magazine shelf, lead to excellent plot points and provide substantial obstacles that could be overlooked in a film without these constraints.

Characters either look at each other with glances that immediately reveal how situations make them feel or perform some action that is entirely consistent with their archetype, or, as the film progresses, their identity.

The film’s screenplay is its standout feature and allows a simple concept with an obvious message to move viewers and make people return to it. Much of the script was created as a collaborative effort between Hughes and the five actors playing the teenagers in detention. Hughes had created multiple scripts, and he and the actors worked to develop a script which they felt most accurately represented teenage life in the 1980s. Additionally, many scenes were ad-libbed, which must have required much emotional investment on the actors’ parts. The actors personally felt the gravity of coming of age in a world where mutual understanding feels impossible and longed for the same kind of connection the characters seek. Although the film’s screenplay captures its characters’ depths, it also includes many comedic moments. Some of the lines are so memorable that they have become a part of my everyday vocabulary. If my siblings ever use homework as an excuse to get out of something, I remind them, “That’s OK, son. You can do it on the boat!” Any mention of dehydration requires someone to comment, “I’ve seen her dehydrate, sir. It’s pretty gross,” and any discussion of school clubs always brings to mind Bender’s observation, “So it’s sort of social. Demented and sad, but social.”

The question which constantly arises in modern discourse about art created many years ago is “How has it aged?” I believe that the film’s overall message is highly relevant to our time. The movie primarily addresses the themes of uniting over shared experiences and seeking common ground between yourself and those around you. This idea of humility, vulnerability, and graciousness in interpersonal relationships will never go out of style, even if references to Barry Manilow have. The film also takes a close look at how past experiences shape a person’s behavior and outlook on life while providing viewers with hope that the characters will not make the same mistakes that their parents did. Not only are the film’s messages applicable today, but its use of archetypes fit well into modern discussions about fictional works. Social media discourse often sorts characters and plot devices into easily identifiable tropes to make conversation easier, and The Breakfast Club does something similar. Each character represents an easily recognizable archetype: the brain, the athlete, the basket case, the princess, and the criminal. Viewers enter the film with certain expectations about how each character will behave, and this film uses those expectations to its advantage. It then proceeds to add depth to the people representing the archetypes, revealing that they are individuals with complex motivations. The film does not go to great lengths to subvert these tropes, but it rather goes beyond the surface-level conception of them to show the great challenges of being defined by how one is perceived. 

This idea of humility, vulnerability, and graciousness in interpersonal relationships will never go out of style, even if references to Barry Manilow have.

Despite this film’s timeless message and clever use of tropes, certain aspects of The Breakfast Club are understandably off-putting to viewers and prevent this film from living up to its full potential. John Bender is the most dramatic character and acts as the catalyst for the film’s plot, yet the film is willing to ignore his repeated bad behavior towards Claire throughout the film by not having him show regret or repent. Additionally, Claire does not condemn his behavior towards her, which sends young women a poor message about how they should expect men to treat them. Not having been alive in the 1980’s, I cannot speak to how this narrative choice would have been received when the film was released, but it justifiably leaves a bitter taste in the mouths of modern viewers.  

If you love witty dialogue, character-driven films, or a really good play, then The Breakfast Club is for you. “Don’t you forget about me,” the opening song begs, and I encourage you all to never forget this wonderful classic. 

Julia Leonard is a senior majoring in Economics and minoring in English.