Pretty in Pink

Scenes from the class struggle in suburban Chicago. True fact: this movie came out in 1986, the same year I graduated from high school. That probably explains why it felt like I had watched it before even though I never saw it until now. The styles, the music, the general vibe—all of it is like concentrated essence of Eighties, a perfect setting for a tale that is, if not as old as time, at least as timeless as the problems of youth. That’s the period of life the film covers, when all of the angst and heartache and highs of being a high school senior feel like the biggest things in the world. Molly Ringwald’s Andie and Andrew McCarthys Blane experience all those ups and downs, and in context their conflicts are—at least metaphorically—the big world issues in a narrative that serves as a microcosm of the larger struggle of society. Blane is a Richie while Andie is from the wrong side of the tracks—literally: the music store where she works is named Trax in one of the film’s not especially subtle hints. Like a Reagan-era Romeo and Juliet, the two teenagers serve as unwilling soldiers in a cold class war, with their relationship being the flashpoint for various battles fought by and with both kids’ families and friends. Fortunately, no one dies, including sidekicks like Annie Potts as Andie’s coworker and mentor, and James Spader as Steff, the suburban prince who dishes out the bulk of the wealthy side's nastiness. Particular props go to Harry Dean Stanton, who gives one of the most understated and underrated performances of his career as Andie’s down-on-his-luck but kind and compassionate father. And then there’s Jon Cryer's Duckie, Andie’s best friend and would-be paramour who stands as the heart and soul of the show in an unforgettable turn. He is perhaps one of the iconic characters of ‘80s cinema, a personification of the then-current zeitgeist. No surprise that such a character would appear in a John Hughes production (of a Howard Deutch film); his films did as much to define that era as any other cultural product. In this case, the defining production is cute and charming as all get out, but also tinged with the kind of sadness that makes for a full and satisfying emotional experience. If you lived it then, you know it by heart, and if you’re too young to have been there, this flick will give you the exact feel for the time and place—and the timeless truths that infuse all of those details. That’s more than pretty; it can be downright beautiful.