The announcement that The Breakfast Club would be joining the Criterion Collection was met with a kind of uproar -- either from fans (like me) enthusiastic about seeing John Hughes' seminal 1980s teen drama preserved and restored in 4K; or from film aesthete gatekeepers who somehow missed the Collection's easy-to-read mission statement. No matter: either way, the disk is here, and it's a beauty.

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Restored for Blu-ray under the supervision of Universal Pictures (director Hughes, of course, passed away in 2009), The Breakfast Club looks like most mainstream American films of the '80s: flatly lit, dingily grey, and coming at the tail end of the last era in which art direction and production design were intended to be invisible rather than attractors themselves. (Look at that library: aside from being too impressive and enormous for the American public school system, it looks exactly like a library.) Hughes' camera is equally unobtrusive. Renowned for having shot some 1,000,000 feet of film for the 97-minute feature, Hughes finds key moments with his 7-person cast (5 teens; 2 adults) without ever seeming to be doing more than observing. But we're not here for the look of the thing. The Breakfast Club is a hallmark in the history of cinema, being both film that an entire generation of North American teenagers personally identified with, and a script that an entire generation of film students desperately tried to write themselves, over the next twenty years. It's a perfect bottle scenario -- five teens from different social groups, stuck in all-day Saturday detention -- and if the film's third act, in which the kids open up to one another due to their shared confinement, whiffs of contrivance, it also allows the five lead actors (Anthony Michael Hall, Emilio Estevez, Molly Ringwald, Judd Nelson and Ally Sheedy) to put ball after ball over the far wall of the stadium in an uninterrupted string of performance home runs. Each character -- the brain, the jock, the prom queen, the dropout and the weirdo -- grapples with that quintessential teen conundrum: the desire to fit in by adhering to established molds; the resentment those prescribed personalities inevitably bring.

( My So-Called Life would build its entire premise off this idea, ten years later.) Rough edges notwithstanding, Hughes wrote the cinema's Catcher In The Rye, all dissociation and angst perfectly graded to the middle American white experience of the post-boomer, Ronald Reagan era. Like The Catcher In The Rye, too, The Breakfast Club manages to be both jarringly of its time, and paradoxically timeless. Certainly, in a 2018 context, a few things stick out. The first and most obvious is Bender (Nelson), the maverick wolf of the group, who most kids (boys, at least) my age thought was exceedingly cool back in the '80s. Well, Bender seems pretty awful now. Part of this is because I'm 41 now and I'm supposed to find Bender awful, though I do wonder if teenagers now would find his excessive bullying and anarchic behaviour as magnetic as my generation did.

Beyond this, though, there's the inescapable skeeziness of the character, a dyed-in-the-wool marquee boy for a time in American cinema we are (hopefully) moving past. Free download neurology img friendly residency programs list programs. He abuses Claire relentlessly throughout the film and even sexually assaults her at one point; his comeuppance for this is to become her boyfriend, and (theoretically anyway) have all of his efforts validated as justifiable courtship. It seems like a trivial thing, but rape culture stems directly from the mythmaking around characters like Bender in popular culture, even if Nelson's turn here is perhaps subtler and more shaded than, say, those dipshits in Revenge of the Nerds. I've also long been bothered by the late-film makeover of Allison, the 'freak' character played by Ally Sheedy -- arguably a moment of acceptance and bonding between the two girls of the group, a kind of remaking of Allison as one of the tribe of 'cool girls.' But Allison's strength as a character -- Sheedy does more with her in gestures and half-mute squeals than most actors have done with their entire careers -- is so striking throughout the picture that taking away her wardrobe and eye makeup, and forcing/allowing her to 'conform,' feels like a cinematic neutering. Earlier in the film, Allison advocates for her right to enjoy sex outside patriarchal conventions of morality, challenges Andrew's mainstream self-deception directly, and makes herself a pixie stick sandwich for lunch.