A few years ago, my now seventeen-year old daughter and her friends discovered Ferris Bueller's Day Off. They thought it was hi-lar-i-ous. I found a copy on the $5 DVD rack at Target, so we all enjoyed Matthew Broderick and his pals (Mia Sara and Alan Ruck) playing the world's ultimate hooky. Baseball, fancy restaurants, parades, and that "borrowed" red Ferrari. In fact, like so many movies before and after it, we enjoyed it over and over and over.
Great! I thought, and immediately planned a John Hughes film festival. (My daughter will be the first to bemoan my ability to suck the fun out of anything by making it part of a theme or event. What can I say? I was a drama major and work in advertising.) We started with Sixteen Candles, one of my favorites. In it, Samantha (a freckly young Molly Ringwald) negotiates high school, first love, an exchange student (with the unfortunate name Long Duk Dong) and the unwanted attention of a nerd while trying to prepare for her sister's wedding to an "oily variety bohunk" on her birthday (which multiple family generations have forgotten). I love that movie.
My daughter? Not so much.
Okay, not yet discouraged, I found Pretty in Pink. Molly Ringwald again, this time as a creative girl from the wrong side of the tracks, swooning over rich boy Andrew McCarthy.
Verdict? B-o-r-i-n-g.
I had one last shot: The Breakfast Club. This time, my daughter politely declined. She had heard it was pretty sad, and — let's face it — my track record wasn't so hot. So, I put aside the 80s brat pack, and watched (a bit disheartened) as my daughter relished current teen films, like Hunger Games and Divergent.
But, there was still one last hope.
Every once in a while, my husband and I would see John Cusack in something, or we'd drive by a "Gas n Sip," or we'd reach for a pen. We would immediately think of one of our all-time favorite movies. Our daughter was old enough to see it, but did I dare? If she didn't appreciate it, I thought it might break my heart. The movie was (is, and always will be) ...
Say Anything.
That iconic image of Lloyd Dobler defiantly holding up his boom box outside Diane Court's bedroom window. Peter Gabriel's "In Your Eyes." Graduation. The key master. The pen. So many quotable quotes ...
I don't want to sell anything, buy anything, or process anything as a career. I don't want to sell anything bought or processed, or buy anything sold or processed, or process anything sold, bought, or processed, or repair anything sold, bought, or processed. You know, as a career, I don't want to do that.
Don't be a guy. The world is full of guys. Be a man.
I got a question. If you guys know so much about women, how come you're here at like the Gas 'n' Sip on a Saturday night completely alone drinking beers with no women anywhere? (Answer: Pause ... By choice, man. By choice.)
And, our favorite ...
I gave her my heart, she gave me a pen.
Over the years, we've had multiple (maybe five?) copies of Say Anything first on VHS and then on DVD. Each time, we'd lend it to some poor slob who had never had the opportunity to bask in the glow of Lloyd and Diane's odd couple romance. Typical of us, each time we'd forget who borrowed it and move on, eventually picking up another copy on a half-price table somewhere.
(BTW, if you have one of our copies of Say Anything and you're reading this, you can go ahead and keep it. We've moved on to Netflix on demand; we're all set.)
I thought my daughter would love it. But, I had a tiny nagging suspicion that she might roll her eyes — and dash my hopes.
I waited.
Just recently, I finally found the nerve to see what my daughter would think of Say Anything. We decided to make it a family movie night (see, there I go with the themes again). We made a big basket of popcorn and settled in on our sectional. I had a couple of moments of panic as I realized just how dated the hair and outfits were. But, a quick glance over and I could tell that my daughter was completely engaged. In a house where the three of us are often found watching three different shows on three different TVs, it was great to be together.
If you haven't watched Say Anything in a while, watch it. If you've never watched Say Anything, watch it. If your teenager hasn't watched Say Anything, tell him or her "Watch it."
That's all I have to say.
Except for this ... "You're still here? It's over. Go home."
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The other day, I had lunch with a former coworker I hadn't seen in more than ten years. As we greeted with a warm hug, I told him "You look exactly the same!" So, of course, he had to say that to me too.
But, I don't.
I am starting to go grey, and I am too lazy or too cheap (or too both) to do anything about it. My hair, cropped short as always, isn't aging in an even salt-and-pepper way either. No, always the drama queen, I have one of those Cruella DeVil localized, high contrast streaks. It's working its way from my right temple back. Lovely.
And, then there's the additional weight. When he last saw me, I was a fairly trim 40-year old. Now, I've gained ten years and with that comes a mellow maturity and some additional baggage — mainly around my middle. Suffice it to say, I like to eat muffin tops, not wear them. Yet there we are.
(Fear not gentle reader, I'm on a strict new year's resolution diet. And, we all know how well those work.)
Still, I may be older, I may be greyer, I may be ... er ... pleasingly plumper, but I have much to be thankful for. One major thing for which I count my blessings on a continual basis is how my daughter is turning out. Oh sure, she's a teenager and often she's sullen, moody, stubborn, disrespectful (did I mention she's a teenager?). But, I certainly derive satisfaction from all of her good qualities — y'know, the ones she exhibits to everyone except her loving mother.
My daughter and her peers are coming of age in a world that recognizes the power of youth and unashamedly markets to it. So, while I watched a handful of TV shows with my family (M*A*S*H comes to mind), these girls have entire networks devoted to their entertainment. ABC Family, for example (one of my daughter's favorites) boasts Pretty Little Liars, Switched at Birth, The Lying Game and The Secret Life of the American Teenager.
Which brings me to the point of this post.
Yes, I have aged, but at least I haven't had to do it in the oh-so-critical public eye. The middle-aged mom of Secret Life's central character is played by Molly Ringwald.
How is that even possible?
She looks really good for a woman her age. Really really good. Unfortunately, the world still and forever will think of her as the lovable, but slightly nerdy, girl from such classic 80s movies as Sixteen Candles, Pretty in Pink and Breakfast Club. Unlike her fellow brat-packers, she wasn't in St. Elmo's Fire, a rather whiny and thoroughly unbelievable story of a bunch of recent college grads kind of, sort of getting their sh*t together as grownups. (Hollywood legend has it that the tepid script was turned down by multiple studios. One executive described the ensemble of characters as "the most loathsome humans I have ever read on the page.") Yikes.
Still, the project attracted an A-list of then hot young things: Demi Moore, Ally Sheedy, Rob Lowe. So where was Molly through all this? Maybe she had better advisors (or better taste) than her cohorts. Maybe she was already committed to a better movie. Maybe the powers that be wanted to freeze-frame her as a perpetual teen. I think we all did. Real-life girls idolized her, dressed and pouted their puffy lips like her. She was a household name at a very young age. And then suddenly she was gone.
Or so it seemed. It's not as though Ringwald truly dropped off the face. After turning down the leads in Pretty Woman and Ghost (can you imagine?), she relocated to France where she continued to act in film and on stage. She's also appeared on Broadway.
And now, she's back and once again well-known amongst high school girls because of The Secret Life of the American Teenager. But, she's not the title's teenager and she has no secrets (well, none worth knowing if you ask the show's young audience). She is ... the MOM.
One day when my own American teenager was watching ABC Family, I felt compelled to point Ringwald out. "She was in these great movies in the 80s," I explained, "You would love them!" My daughter, to her credit and despite many other similar yet epic fails on my part, agreed to try some of those alleged greats.
I started with Sixteen Candles (my personal Molly favorite). It was exactly exactly, I mean exactly, as I remembered it. Those outfits, that adolescent angst. So deliciously dated. Suffice it to say, it did not translate. My daughter's review was succinct: "Hated it." Okay, then. I think I may have pushed Pretty in Pink next, but we didn't make it all the way through. I abandoned ship before we ever got to The Breakfast Club.
So, where did we end up? Teen entertainment has changed pretty dramatically. I will never instill a love of the big 80s in my millennial generation daughter (although the new Carrie Diaries may be my best shot). Still, watching iconic teens turn into graceful grownups helps me know I'm not alone in this.
And whether she gets it or not, there's a very good chance that my girl will one day be a middle-aged mom herself, complete with her own tempestuous teen ... and muffin top.
