Brats: Did We Ruin The Brat Pack's Lives by Liking Them Too Much? Hmmm....
By John Kirk
Rating: C
If you’re a performer in the public eye, you will inevitably be affected by public perception. The danger lies in how long you dwell on it.
The “Brat Pack” documentary Brats on Disney+/Hulu leans heavily on director Andrew McCarthy’s reflection on how the group of young actors in the 1980s - termed the “Brat Pack” by journalist David Blum in New York Magazine - were personally affected (afflicted?) by the designation. While the film prompts a mildly interesting inquiry, in the end, it’s simply nostalgia that is the draw.
The term “Brat Pack,” was a clever pun on the Swinging Sixties cavalcade of Frank Sinatra, Sammy Davis, Jr., Dean Martin, and other actors who were identified because of the public group persona of being together in films, and at casinos, night-clubs, and other public events. They were a recognizable group of similarly themed, generational entertainers who made an impression on a generation of movie-goers.
References to this Golden Age of Hollywood even manage to permeate console games played by teen-agers today, like PlayStation’s Fallout 3 & 4, which saw a television adaptation in Prime’s Fallout. The whole idea of the Rat-Pack is generationally iconic. Being compared in some way to this gang is arguably an honour.
But McCarthy’s contention is that the label hindered their identities and careers, that they were perceived as indulged young ingénues who didn’t deserve the fame they achieved. It was, in McCarthy’s opinion, traumatic.
It is, in my opinion, a bit of a stretch.
After all, these films helped shape the perceptions and attitudes of an entire generation of movie-watching youth. They defined an era. That’s an incredible achievement, and if McCarthy can’t see that, then he’s missing out on his own legacy.
But, hey, who am I to tell him how to feel?
One of the stand-out lines in this film that drips in self-pity: “This is a club that we were never asked to join.” Members of the Brat-Pack were assumed to pal around with each other, much like their Rat-Pack near-namesakes. As a result, they were typecast and were only deemed good enough for roles that echoed earlier roles.
Being lumped together, showered with publicity and compared to each other was somehow disagreeable to McCarthy and, to an extent, some of his fellows. However, to be fair, while some did object to the gestalt identity label, it really didn’t seem to outwardly bother them that much. And McCarthy fails to clearly articulate how badly they suffered under the oppressive amount of attention the article’s label brought them.
It’s one thing to be typecast but there’s also the notion that when you are an actor, you take the roles that are offered and you are grateful for them. While in their twenties, the Brat Pack saw overwhelming success seen by few in their age group.
In fact, one of the great anecdotes of the film is that, after the release of St. Elmo’s Fire, Liza Minnelli took the cast from their after-release party at Spago’s to Sammy Davis Jr.’s place. Sammy played bartender for the cast of the film all night. That’s not just a memory; it’s a surreal experience to cherish.
This doc is a tough sell to anyone who saw those films. It’s not for me to deny how McCarthy felt throughout the experience. It’s his experience, after all. But it just doesn’t seem like it’s a genuine issue. He interviews Emilio Estevez, Rob Lowe, Jon Cryer and Demi Moore – all of whom managed to make credible and even memorable career choices after their Brat Pack days. Only Ally Sheedy seems to have settled into a comfortable life out of the spotlight teaching drama courses.
Conspicuously absent from his interview subject list are Molly Ringwald, Judd Nelson and Anthony Michael Hall. If you were going to do a film about the Brat Pack, Molly Ringwald should be there. She declined to participate, citing a reluctance to dwell on the past.
It’s also of note that McCarthy doesn’t really talk about projects or roles that he had after his Brat Pack days.
While Judd Nelson is frequently mentioned, he also doesn’t make an appearance.
Strangely enough, a few months back, I had the good fortune to meet Anthony Michael Hall. I expressed to him how much I loved his roles in films like Weird Science, Sixteen Candles, National Lampoon’s Vacation, or The Breakfast Club. He thanked me, but told me that he was more focused on his adult acting career rather than relying on what he had done in the past. Good self advice.
Seeing the cutaway scenes from the films that made this group successful was an enjoyable feature. In fact, as soon as I finished watching it, I booted up Sixteen Candles and The Breakfast Club. The nostalgic value of these films is still so very powerful. I felt I needed to be reminded of that.
There is a mention of the influence of the soundtracks to these films. While this seems to detract from the thrust of the documentary, hearing these themes encapsulated the joy and significance they gave their audiences. To this day, John Parr’s inspirational Man in Motion from St. Elmo’s Fire still gives me a boost.
It was good to catch up with Estevez, Moore and Sheedy and others as well. They seemed happy and content. And that was a comfort, given the narrative of the documentary. In fact, Both Rob Lowe and Demi Moore unexpectedly present themselves as wise and healthily self-aware. If anything, this doc made them look good.
Who doesn’t look good is McCarthy. It’s a shame he failed to fully acknowledge the value of these films, what they meant to their audiences, how many managed to identify with the values demonstrated by the characters he and his fellows played. He gave a gift to those young people.
In the end, I guess that’s the only clearly bratty aspect to Brats.
Brats. Directed by Andrew McCarthy. Stars Andrew McCarthy, Demi Moore, Rob Lowe, Emilio Estevez and Jon Cryer. Brats streams on Disney+ in Canada on June 28.