Hulu documentary ‘Brats’ makes me think about the long-term effects of what I write

NOTICE: Actor Andrew McCarthy’s film about Hollywood’s ’80s “Brat Pack” shows how people on the other side of profiles can be negatively affected for decades.

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Being a culture writer, especially one whose job it is to comment on pop culture events, can put you in the position of a critic or cynic as often as it can make you a kingmaker (or of Queen). Let’s be real, not all pop culture is amazing or interesting; things worth mentioning today could be lost to the annals of history by next year, only to be remembered via humorous flashbacks in a “what were we thinking?” ability. Sometimes, however, you write something that has an immediate impact and that impact stays forever, for better or worse, depending on your point of view.

In June 1985, writer and editor David Blum wrote a cover story for “New York Magazine” titled “Hollywood’s Brat Pack” about actors (none of the actresses who might have fit at the time were included) who constituted up to -a then nameless group and the glory-hungry, unserious but profitable lives that they seemed to live. The story centered on Emilio Estevez, Rob Lowe, and Judd Nelson, all actors who starred in several films, together and separately, that became defining cultural markers of 1980s American youth culture. I would not like to point out that they constitute the defining cultural markers of white American youth: very few people of color existed in the worlds created by John Hughes and his ilk; Ira Madison and Malcolm Gladwell talk about it in the documentary.

The article and its fallout (or not) inspired Andrew McCarthy’s documentary about the whole thing, “Brats,” now available on Hulu. McCarthy, who was mentioned in the article via a negative quote from another unnamed Brat Packer, appears to have held that term and any negative connotations for nearly 40 years as a sort of albatross around his neck. The goal of his documentary was to research as many Brat Packers as possible, to determine who was in the group (again, the original article did not name any prominent women of the era, but history has since corrected that) and understand what was happening. this term meant their career and their life.

The documentary is fascinating. On the one hand, I was too young to realize how many of the actors mentioned avoided the label. I didn’t even know how the term came about, although I was aware of it (and some people were members) until I started watching the documentary. I am of course familiar with the era of John Hughes; I’ve seen quite a few films that defined the era, from “Risky Business” to “Pretty in Pink” to “The Breakfast Club” to “St. Elmo’s Fire” and on and on. Although loved by millions, I was never a huge fan. At the time I started watching these films, I didn’t feel seen by them at all, but I was able to understand them as representative of the cultural zeitgeist of the ’80s. John Hughes did not wrote or directed every movie starring the Brat Packers, but you can’t talk about the Brat Pack without John Hughes. But it seems that, via archival interview footage in the documentary, many actors and actresses have rejected the nickname and the box it placed them in, which is interesting since many of them (Tom Cruise, Demi Moore and Sean Penn, for example). ) have had Really successful film careers.

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To be fair, the article couldn’t have done any of the people included any favors, even if delaying their careers seems like a reach. While watching the documentary, I stopped to read the article. To call him ungenerous would be an understatement. The story centers on Estevez and more or less portrays him, Lowe and Nelson as aloof, selfish and self-centered young actors who care about nothing but themselves – essentially as titled young movie stars . Oh, that highlights that none of them went to drama school; the implication is that they take fame more seriously than profession. This sentiment is prevalent throughout the article and reiterated again and again in documentary interviews with the various people McCarthy speaks to, such as Estevez, Lowe, Moore, Tim Hutton, Jon Cryer, and Ally Sheedy. For McCarthy, this article (and this nickname) trivialized them as actors and professionals and designated an entire group of people despite the focus on a few evenings with Estevez, Lowe and Nelson. Today, we could call it a success. And thanks to its catchy title, the band’s name, and the narrative it tells, I can see how much of an impact it could have had on the actors’ lives. Again, fascinating.

Towards the end of the documentary, McCarthy sits down with Blum to discuss the controversial article and whether Blum would do anything differently in his writing process. Almost defiant in his defense of his article, Blum maintained that he would do nothing differently and acknowledged that the article might have been a little nasty, but that’s what he saw. He even seemed a little perplexed (maybe more confused) that this article he wrote had caused so much consternation, but he was proud to be someone who defined a cultural phenomenon. McCarthy, on the other hand, seemed less enthusiastic and almost wanted to apologize for the impact the affair had had on his life.

This was the most interesting part of the documentary for me. As someone who has written about countless people, famous and not, I have rarely considered the actual potential impacts. I never thought that something I wrote as part of my weekly tasks could impact a person’s perception or narrative – I like to think I call a thing a thing. Sure, I’ve had more than my fair share of social media encounters with artists or media figures who took issue with what I wrote, but my articles about living rent free in their minds have always seemed driven by the hair. Seeing McCarthy sitting with Blum in the middle of an entire documentary he created specifically to talk about something that has lived rent-free for 40 years is eye-opening. It reminds us that, whether real or perceived, the people we write about are human and can act like humans. For McCarthy, being a member of the Brat Pack had immediate and lasting impacts on his career.

I can admit that over time, I stopped lashing out so much at people I didn’t know, famous or not, in the written press. I realized that celebrating people didn’t take away from me as much as taking people to task. I even apologized to one or two people for writing something that was unsupportive, or even mean, although I don’t know if they would have ever read the apology. I’ve read things I’ve written and cringed; although I don’t think it had an impact on careers, the truth is I don’t know. “Brats” shows you how that can happen even with some of the most famous people in an industry. I thought famous people were too big to care about the words and opinions of the world, but I guess that’s not true. McCarthy’s documentary illustrates how much some people care and how just because a writer moves on doesn’t mean the subject does. It’s a lesson in humility and seeing the other side.

As a writer who has made certain decisions based on my own mental health, it confirmed that sometimes, just sometimes, these things we write affect us in ways we didn’t expect, and being aware of that doesn’t cost me nothing.

Panama Jackson is a columnist at Grio and host of the award-winning podcast “Dear Culture” on the Grio Black podcast network. He writes very dark things, drinks very dark liquors and is rather elegant for a light guy. His biggest achievement to date coincides with his greatest achievement to date, in that he received a phone call from Oprah Winfrey after reading one of her articles (the biggest), but he didn’t did not answer the phone because the caller ID read “Unknown” (Blackest). ).