While the Academy ignored the memories of Farrah Fawcett and Bea Arthur, they managed to get it right remembering John Hughes. For the entirety of the ’80s and ’90s, Hughes became the voice for a generation. Cameron Crowe, Kevin Smith, Richard Linklater — these men wouldn’t have a career if not for Hughes. And if that weren’t enough, he was able to branch out into adult humor with the brilliant Uncle Buck and Planes, Trains and Automobiles, and of course National Lampoon’s Vacation. After the untimely death of John Candy, Hughes retired from filmmaking, taking up a quiet life of seclusion in the Chicago area. And the industry lost a wonderful voice.
Allegedly, Hughes never stopped writing up until his equally tragic death last year. There supposedly exists a huge cache of unproduced scripts that are starting to potentially see the light of day. Some companies are circling Grisbys Go Broke, about a wealthy family that goes broke and is forced to move to the sticks. Presumably away from the posh suburb of Shermer, Illinois. Normally, a plot description like this would read like the third rhyming syllable of the Wild Hogs, Old Dogs trilogy — Rolling Logs or Cloudy Fogs or some such shit. But Hughes spun gold from simplicity.
I hope there is a secret treasure trove buried someone in the hinterlands of Chicago, hidden in a library waiting for Nicolas Cage to overact it free. So we can end this tragic trend of films that have me Munsch-ing like Kevin McAllister.