Brats

Andrew McCarthy makes an earnest attempt to put his own struggles with what I always just assumed was a convenient turn of the Sinatra and friend's super cool "Rat Pack" nickname, into an 80s-ready contrivance for a hack reporter to weild as a cudgel against a coterie of successful actors who were younger and more talented than he was, to rest.

And in the end McCarthy does seem to make peace with the 'Brat Pack' moniker and its implications.

Along the way we find out that a few of those talented young actors allowed it to define their very careers and one or two of them are convinced it changed the entire trajectory of their professional lives.

A far more important consideration should be writer/director, John Hughes, and the impact on the Brat Pack's careers and the films that he made that many would agree, defined a generation.

Someone may have already delved into the Hughes' genius and the legacy he left for us to enjoy.

The idea was interesting. But the documentary sometimes took itself too seriously, and sometimes was too flippant. It could be overly harsh and other times too forgiving. It would have been good to hear how lives were specifically changed, but instead talked around what happened so no one would be labeled as bitter or brooding.

One poignant point was how movies had changed in the early/mid 80s to be youth oriented with movies about teenagers and played by younger actors. It created a swelling of new, young stars never seen to that degree before or since.

The focus was on a hit piece article by an envious reporter that labeled them "the brat pack." It was supposed to be article on what it was like hanging out with Emilio Estavez for a few days before it was morphed into a scathing denunciation of an entire group. The article was pretty sloppy in its writing and tried to tar and feather as many people as possible, including Nicholas Cage and Tom Cruise.

It changed the lives of all the actors. They stopped talking to each or seeing each other to distance themselves from the insinuation. But the damage was done. The label went "viral" before that was a term and for a group that was already getting older and would be looking for more adult roles, many found a wall they didn't expect and didn't know how to overcome.

Many of the actors most deeply immersed in the time weren't interviewed. Some in the documentary were barely on the outskirts. And again what was truly missing was the nitty gritty of how it impacted rather than hearing again and again versions of wow, that was really something and quite an experience. How did it feel to break contact? What was it like going to movie auditions after that? Had the public reaction change? How did it change their lives?

That was the part that was missing.

Like most Gen X, I grew up with the brat pack so this was an interesting look back at the actors and how the name originated.

A lot of the interviews become quite awkward as we see Andrew spend the entire documentary basically lamenting the brat label as though it ruined their lives. Emilio Estevez looks nothing short of uncomfortable as he stands there barely getting a word in other than politely nodding and agreeing.

Malcolm Gladwell's section was quite interesting as he offered some great insight into why the Breakfast Club was as popular as it was, pointing out how there was no social media at the time and the movie was one of the first to show 80s kids something they felt genuinely represented them, and how the idea of being brats was cool to them. The producer Lauren Shulee Donner adds to this idea, finally getting Andrew to see that Brat Pack was something seen as cool to teenagers, while Andrew seems to have spent his life being negatively defined by this term.

Engaging documentary from actor Andrew McCarthy on the participants in the popular teen movies of the 1980s--actors who are now pushing 60--and how the label "Brat Pack" (taken from the headline in a 1985 New York Magazine article by David Blum, who is interviewed) was possibly a brand, a stigma, a curse, or maybe something special, something that other actors of the time aspired to be a part of. McCarthy, once a pseudo-self-conscious, aloof and somewhat constipated young movie star, took the inspiration for this project from his autobiography, "Brat: An '80s Story"; his feeling for the past 30 years that the term "Brat Pack" was a scathing slap at a certain group of young Hollywood talent circa 1985 isn't unjustified, but his personal wounds--and the sometimes mixed feelings of his contemporaries--are put into perspective here in quickie-therapeutic fashion (aided in its presentation by a bevy of vintage TV clips and interviews). One of the first questions posed is: who was actually in the Brat Pack? I always felt it pertained to select members of the cast of 1985's "St. Elmo's Fire" (not everyone, of course; there's no mention of Mare Winningham, for instance). There's also some suspense in McCarthy's rounding up of interviewees, particularly reluctant stars Molly Ringwald and Judd Nelson (both of whom decline the invitation). "Brats" isn't investigative journalism; McCarthy is out to heal personal and professional wounds, and he wants perspective in his journey from Emilio Estevez, Demi Moore, Rob Lowe, Jon Cryer, Ally Sheedy, Lea Thompson, Timothy Hutton, writers, producers and directors. McCarthy insists he is not sentimental and he is not nostalgic--but "we" are, and the general catharsis is almost real. **1/2 from ****

It's interesting to hear what other reviewers have to say about director Andrew McCarthy's vision and compilation of this documentary. Words such as whiny or whack always seem to accompany people's shortsidedness and forget that even though this is not the typical life, it is still someone's life.

What was most interesting is to see the different reactions of those who were in the Brat Pack and those who were Brat Pack "Adjacent." McCarthy's story comes from a perspective that an article written by a journalist, which we come to find out had gotten his idea from a dinner where he was labeled. Being 29 in the 80's wasn't considered young and he was looking for something to propel him to the next stage of his career. So were McCarthy, Nelson, Ringwald, Sheedy, Lowe, Moore and Estevez. The main difference is that the journalist's life wasn't nearly affected the way he wanted, and had no remorse for how it might have affected the lives of those he wrote about.

The issue is that we as humans root for people to be successful until we feel they're too successful, become jealous and ultimately find a way to knock them down a peg. Granted it comes with fame and it just so happened that it hit McCarthy, Nelson and Ringwald the hardest. The others have gone on to much longer and more diverse careers, yet we have a hard time feeling sorry for those people who seemingly had it easy.

Ask yourself if there's an event in your life that you still haven't dealt with. If you have adjusted to all trauma, kudos to you! Do you know someone in your family that hasn't? I think this was the crux of what McCarthy was trying to figure out through the exploration of people that meant a great deal to him at one time, yet never really got the answers to why it bothered everyone so. You can see the natural catharsis he goes through as he talks to Sheedy, Lowe, and even a casting director that gave him a different spin on the stigma of the Brat Pack.

All in all, the lesson that they all took mostly 30 years to learn is that you're presented with two choices when being pigeon holed in Hollywood. You can allow it to dictate your career for the worse or you can rise above it like several of them did. I believe that McCarthy got the peace he was searching for.

Regardless if you like the documentary or not, movies would not be the same without their generational success.