The death of John Hughes yesterday prompted reflection on how badly all of his films suck. Judging from the email I've received, I have a controversial view about the value of his films. So here's why Sixteen Candles is a piece of crap. Evaluations of his other films will be posted in due course.
Sixteen Candles is a coming-of-age comedy that purports to be about an awkward teen's quest for visibility among the mature. The film of course has a standard happy ending, with Samantha hooking up with her romantic interest and the film's hero, Jake Ryan. But Jake Ryan is no hero. To wit:
In the course of the film, Jake Ryan claims to have no principled objection to having sex with ("violating," he says) his passed out girlfriend, Carolyn (he says he's "not into it" anymore). Then, in exchange for a pair of Samantha's underwear, he pimps Carolyn out to an under-age drunk geek (Ted)-- he tricks the barely conscious Carolyn into getting into a car with Ted, gives Ted the keys (Ted does not have a driver's license and has been drinking), and tells him to "have a good time" with Carolyn. They wake up in a parking lot to discover that they'd had sex, but both were too impaired to remember the act. So Hughes's hero endorses lying, under-age drinking, driving without a license, drunk driving, sex with the unconscious, and statutory rape.
In short, Jake Ryan is a fucking menace. And if there were a Seventeen Candles, and it were honestly done, we'd find a totally destroyed Samantha.
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20 comments:
I fail to see how a moral appraisal of the film justifies an aesthetic appraisal of it.
Character who you dislike or who endorses poor values != bad work of art.
well, barring any moral appeal, we are left with two options.
a) john hughes films are valuable because of their theatrical/technical advancements. That is, they are well made, well exectued, theoretically interesting films. While I do think his use of scruntchies, popular music soundtracks and cinematic composition are revolutionary, this could not be the case, i think.
b) the story is more sublime than beautiful. a quasi-ironic indictment of teenage life and single-minded pursuit of sex, to the preclusion of any moral development. Now, this may be a possible reading, but I strongly doubt it is either his intention, or a much defensible reading.
I take Spiros' point to be something along the lines of 'a lot of people take this to be a defining film, but the story is morally reprehensible, and one oughtn't view it as a coming of age story. or view it at all, given that it is lacking in any other redeeming characteristics, beyond what it subjectively evokes in the viewer, in terms of their past or their own coming of age'.
But if there are some incredibly interesting/of high value aesthetic aspects of the film, i'm all ears
Vanity:
I don't claim to be offering an aesthetic appraisal of the film; I do not claim that a moral judgment provides justification for an aesthetic one, nor do I understand precisely where you're drawing the aesthetic/moral distinction.
But it's no matter, because, despite what you think, my argument is not that since I don't like a character (or since a character espouses bad values), the film is bad. The argument rather is that Hughes is a stupid filmmaker: Unwittingly, the hero of the story is actually a menace, and his actions are driven by plot-necessities rather than by a coherent conception of the character.
A good filmmaker knows how to develop characters so that the plot advances by means of actions that reveal and express the (moral) character of the characters. *Sixteen Candles*, like all of Hughes's films, is filled with pivotal episodes in which characters act in ways that are inexplicable given what we know otherwise about the character. Samantha's giving Ted her underpants is a good example: Why did she do this? Simply because the plot required it.
Hughes relies on the assumption that his viewers won't notice the incoherence of his characters. We're supposed to not notice that Jake Ryan endorses rape, because, after all, he's handsome.
So, to be clear, my argument is that the filmmaking is unskilled rubbish. Hughes was a hack.
For what it's worth, here's Dave Kehr's brief review of Sixteen Candles, from his days at the Chicago Reader:
John Hughes's 1984 film is a maddening tangle of styles. With his story of a suburban Chicago girl coming of age on her 16th birthday, Hughes invokes the classical unities of time, place, and plot symmetry, yet he trashes his careful structure every time he needs a gag—destroying the integrity of his characters, shattering the plausibility of his situations. The members of the Lampoon generation had clearly tired of the anything-goes format, but as they tried to make the transition to character comedy, they refused to give up their old attitudes—they wanted to be Chekhov and Mel Brooks, and the results are grotesque. As the girl, Molly Ringwald is natural and appealing, but she's lost in a world of blunt, vicious caricatures.
Spiros: It seems to me that you are "channelling" Aristotle: "A good filmmaker knows how to develop characters so that the plot advances by means of actions that reveal and express the (moral) character of the characters." For some reason, I doubt that this is an accident on your part. I'm by no means a fan of Hughes' movies, and this makes it difficult to muster much to say, but it seems to me that if any one of Aristotle's claims remains helpful (especially in this case), it is that of a work needing consistency (or consistent inconsistency).
I'm inclined to consider Bill Viola a great filmmaker (unlike Hughes), despite the utter lack of plot and development of characters of any kind. But he is, if anything, "consistent".
Your explanation of what a "good" filmmaker does elides a descriptive characterization (plot development) with a moral goal (what a plot must express), in the way that Aristotle's Poetics does. The expression of a moral goal via plot permits an evaluation of a "good" poet/director. "Bad" directors and playwrights are bad, on this description, when the plots of their works do not express the moral nature of the characters in their advancement. Aristotle's requirements for good playwriting have been successfully challenged by playwrights who do not present "heroes" that develop morally at all and plots that advance nowhere. Beckett's plays are good examples of this. I am not at all inclined to declare Beckett a "bad" playwright. (In fact, I think he's great.) The issue is particularly vexing when it comes to popular culture, where one may be inclined to make high/low distinctions. Yet we end up with problems if we attempt to place Beckett's work in a special "high art" category without considering that Seinfeld also trades on a similar lack of moral heroes and plot development.
729:
I take your points gladly. The crucial element is that Hughes is *trying* to make a certain kind of film-- one that features a hero who saves the girl from invisibility. He presents us with Jake Ryan and asks us to conclude that since Samantha ends up with him, all ends happily. Notice also that Ted winds up with the large-breasted blonde prom queen who (statutory) raped him or was raped by him (she may have been unconscious); she, inexplicably, falls for him. So all's well? Not at all. The hero is a creep.
There are other genres of story telling, and in these other genres, different rules apply. So I don't think that Beckett is a tough case.
I don't think Hughes is a particularly talented director so I won't defend him on that point.
If you say that Hughes doesn't develop his characters and is cheap when it comes to that sort of thing, I agree. That's not what your original post argued, however.
With all of that said, there's something to be said about Hughes's body of work: it captured 80s adolescence, which generally was morally reprehensible, largely incoherent, and just all around vapid.
Now you might point to Hughes's intentions and say that he was intending *this* genre of movie (as opposed to that one), but that's entirely irrelevant, as the author's intention is only one potential aspect of discussion that need not be privileged.
Vanity,
Perhaps you haven't read the post you're commenting on particularly carefully. The post argued that the purported hero of the movie is in fact a menace. This was taken as proof of the film's failure. It didn't strike me at the time that I'd need to make explicit the tacit premise that in a good film the plot is advanced by actions that are consistent with who the characters are. Apparently this needs to made clear to you.
Furthermore, your final point about privileging authorial intention, though perhaps impressive in undergraduate classrooms when addressing people who don't know any better, is here wildly off the mark. When we're discussing whether a filmmaker is a hack or not, it surely is important to try to discern what the filmmaker aspired for or took himself to be doing.
It should also be noted that you can't keep your own view straight. Within a single sentence you contradict yourself: First you say that the issue of authorial intent is "entirely irrelevant," but then go on to say that it is "only one potential aspect of discussion that need not be privileged." So which is it? Entirely irrelevant? Or a relevant consideration (perhaps among others)? Must considerations of authorial intent not be privileged, or is it merely that they needn't be?
Spiros, I think you're being a bit harsh both with Hughes and with Vanity. I take it that your argument goes like this:
(P1) Hughes intended Sixteen Candles to be a story about a hero rescuing a damsel in distress.
(P2) The purported hero, Jake, is NOT a hero.
(C1) So, the story fails to be about a hero rescuing a damsel in distress, and Hughes' intentions were not realized in Sixteen Candles.
(P3) If an author's intentions are not realized in a story, then that story is a piece of crap.
(C2) Therefore, Sixteen Candles is a piece of crap.
I think there are good reasons to reject (or at least not enthusiasticallly endorse) all three of the premisses in this argument.
P3 has prima facie defeaters in the numerous movies that are so bad they become good again. Think about the Evil Dead movies or most anything from Mystery Science Theatre. There is a sense in which these movies are cinematic gems precisely because they utterly fail to realize their authors' intentions.
P2 appears to equivocate over two senses of "hero." I agree that Jake is a menace, and I agree that the story ends unhappily (objectively). But to Samantha -- from her blinkered perspective -- Jake *is* a hero. He pays attention to her when no one else does: when even her family has forgotten her. And in any event, isn't this one of the few realistic aspects to the film? Jake isn't a good guy, he's a pretty bad guy who does a sort-of good thing in the end (and we suspect only for selfish reasons). Samantha isn't a lucky girl, she's a lonely, deluded girl living in a fantasy world. That strikes me as about right with respect to the world. There just aren't that many clear-thinking or morally upright people out there. And even if there were, I'm not sure I would want to watch films about them!
P1 isn't obviously false, but it isn't obviously true either. How should I know what Hughes intended to accomplish with Sixteen Candles? More to the point, what evidence to *you* have that his intention was the straightforward hero-rescues-damsel story your argument needs?
Incidentally, I'm with you in disliking all of Hughes' films (except Ferris, which I quite enjoy). But I think this is because I don't like watching stories about morally debased jerks stuck in situations I find to be awkward and unfunny. For similar reasons, I'm not a fan of Seinfeld.
But I don't think any of that makes Hughes' films or Seinfeld pieces of crap by any objective measure. I just don't enjoy watching them.
Spiros: With a genre qualification, your complaints seem clearer to me. The Teen Comedy film genre is not a genre with incredibly coherent narrative standards to begin with, emphasizing stock characters (the "nerd," the "popular girl," etc.) which drive the plot and generate (or attempt to generate) humor. It seems one can say that "Sixteen Candles" draws its stock characters so crudely and places these characters in situations so appalling and unrealistic in order to generate humor and plot resolution that either:
a) It fails to be a good example of a film in this genre. A dark comedies in this genre like "Heathers," "Rushmore" and "Mean Girls" or a politically informed member of this genre like "Election" are works that have something of a critical dimension made possible by using the stock characters of the genre more carefully. The problem is there are very few such films in this genre. They are exceptions to the rule, as it were.
b) It succeeds in being an excellent example of a film in this genre. It so happens then that there is little to say about the complexity or critical dimension of this genre as a whole. It is *about* crudity and unrealistic and appalling narratives driven by stock characters. People seem to like these sorts of films a lot. One looks to the "American Pie" series or the Hughes films, not as great accomplishments in filmmaking in general, but accomplishments in producing popular films of this type.
What I find interesting is that people do like the films that include some sort of critical dimension. We may not have gotten a "Heathers" without the basic genre in place, but the genre is surprisingly static, as I see it. And that's sayin' something.
All of you should co-edit "Sixteen Candles and Philosophy."
If you take a look, however, at Hughes' characters in general it becomes apparent that many of those characters are merely hyperbolic caricatures; quite intentionally the character traits are grossly exaggerated. Further, not only are the characters hyperbolic, but the scenes, conversations, and general story-lines are over-the-top exaggerations as well. And if that is the case, knowing that rather than presenting a direct reflection of society Hughes is presenting intentionally implausible characters in intentionally implausible situations for reasons theatric, for reasons of humor, or otherwise, how can it be a proper candidate for moral assessment? Won't it, simply by the very nature of the hyperbole, nearly automatically fail in that regard?
Further, I would be very surprised if anyone ever looked to a Hughes film for moral guidance as I would if anyone ever looked to the skits on Saturday Night Live for the same. I see both being similar in form and similar in purpose. They both present the unrealistic in a humorous manner with the intent of providing nothing more than tongue-in-cheek entertainment. And in that Hughes most certainly did not suck.
Most simply, hyperbolic representations seem to automatically reside outside the realm of the is-ought distinction due to the very nature of their hyperbolic is-ness.
I think we've reached bedrock with this discussion as I have nothing to add aside from what I've written...although perhaps I can clarify something that you seem to have misunderstood. When I wrote: "Now you might point to Hughes's intentions and say that he was intending *this* genre of movie (as opposed to that one), but that's entirely irrelevant, as the author's intention is only one potential aspect of discussion that need not be privileged," I was (plainly) pointing out that your objection--not the author's intentions--were irrelevant in this case. *shrugs*
(As a note, "Mostly Anonymous" echoes my points quite nicely.)
What surprises me the most about this conversation is that people actually read your shitty blog.
Vanity,
Nice to know that on your view a discussion reaches an end whenever you can't respond to criticism. And while you're shrugging, perhaps you can explain how an objection based on claims about authorial intent could be "entirely irrelevant" while claims about authorial intent are not?
And "Mostly Anonymous" does make some nice points, but they do not "echo" yours.
Mostly Anonymous,
Thanks for the post. Maybe it's worth distinguishing two objects of criticism: (1) Hughes' skills as a filmmaker and (2) Hughes' film *Sixteen Candles*.
My argument is this: *Sixteen Candles* is the work of an unskilled, hapless filmmaker. My evidence for this is mainly the frequency with which the characters act in ways that are required to advance the plot but do not makes sense given what (else) we know about them. Why would Carolyn feel good about waking up in a parking lot having been fucked while semi-conscious by an under-age stranger? Why would Samantha give Ted her underwear? And so on. The answer is always this: because the plot requires it.
I'm committed to the claim (though I have not argued for it) that a skilled director knows how to advance his story without violating the integrity of the characters. A skilled director never has a character do something for no (internal) reason (that the plot required it is an external reason).
Now as for Hughes' intentions, just read an interview with him. He frequently claimed to be making films for the purpose of understanding the travails of American teens, with a view to helping his (teen) viewers cope. (The totally overrated and awful *Breakfast Club* is the most overt example.) He described his film as a kind of "social work" for suburban white teens. Yet he's as morally unsophisticated as could be. He wants us to feel good when a 16 year old girl hooks up with a morally depraved loser.
Now, perhaps the film has funny moments (btw: most of the gags are pretty unfunny, and Hughes always lets the stereotypes do the work for him). And if that's sufficient for a good film, then we're not arguing over *Sixteen Candles* but the criteria. My view is that Hughes' incompetence as a filmmaker ruins all of his films-- they're hopelessly incoherent but yet self-important and preachy.
Apparently, I've missed
the pedagogical richness of Hughes' films:
"For example, Ferris Bueller’s Day Off affirms the pedagogical strategies of effective teachers. Students want to take ownership of their learning. Like Ferris, they don’t want to be passive receptors of information but active creators of meaningful knowledge..."
How could I have not seen that?
John Hughes was one of the best one film director, producer and writer, I think that his best movie is "The Breakfast Club" but I really like Sixteen Candles because the story about the girl who is 16 years old and is the high school sophomore is si interesting!22dd
It is ironic that every time when someone dies, you check its work even though it sucks big time and media people sell a lot.
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