In case there was any doubt that John Hughes (best director ever) had a very rare and unique knack to get under our skin, into our hearts, to never leave our memories, I can count three people in the past 24 hours who have made reference to him.
Dad was the first to tell me about the tribute at Sunday night’s Oscars. Although I didn’t watch them, I know he was right: this was the best part of the ceremony.
(And Sarah was right, too. Molly Ringwald looked liked she was getting tasered and, my, Anthony Michael Hall got beefy…)
But oh, those clips! Such great movies. How can things be so poignant and funny and sad and hopeful and kooky and true at the same time? John Hughes just captured the hilarity and pain of life like no one else.
Or as Mr. B said in sharing Yeasayer’s song, I remember, “It reminds me of the moment in a John Hughes movie that you can't help but swoon over… and it feels like what love should feel like -- achingly melodramatic and larger than life in the simplest of terms.”
Yes, Mr. B, I know exactly what you mean…