‘Pretty in Pink’: THR’s 1986 Review

'Pretty in Pink' Everett

On Feb. 28, 1986, Paramount unveiled John Hughes’ high school feature Pretty in Pink in theaters, where it would go on to gross $40 million in its run and become a breakout for Breakfast Club star Molly Ringwald. The Hollywood Reporter’s original review is below:

What do you say about a girl whose date reneges in his invitation to the prom? If it’s Molly Ringwald and you’re Paramount, you’d say you’ve probably got a box-office hit. Color Pretty in Pink green for the studio.

Ringwald and Andrew McCarthy star in this latest John Hughes’ teenage melodrama about a girl from the wrong side of the tracks and a boy from the country club who fall for each other. It’s not an easy boundary to cross in their stratified high school and screenwriter Hughes has very astutely dramatized the pressures and crosscurrents of high school life.

As an industrious and self-reliant senior, Ringwald essentially baby-sits her chronically myopic father (Harry Dean Stanton), sews her own clothes and contends with the condescension of her patrician peers. She’s a model of decorum and restraint but largely unnoticed by the opposite sex. Only a geeky, witty male pal (Jon Cryer) sees her worth, until one day, quite remarkably, rich-kid McCarthy takes an interest. This sparks all kinds of adverse reaction, mainly from McCarthy’s snotty pals and girlfriends, a tribe so fiercely materialistic and shallow as to make current Less Than Zero-types seem well rounded by comparison.

While Hughes has tapped into the peer dilemmas of high school with sensivity and keen insight, his stacked-deck script tends to dilute the film’s obvious emotional appeal. As the poor girl, Ringwald seems a candidate for canonization. Disciplined, considerate, well groomed and studious, she’s the model young lady. Quite unbelievably she’s constantly attacked by sniping future-sorority girl types — in real life, one suspects they wouldn’t even notice the unobtrusive, demure Ringwald.

Nevertheless, the film shines with atmospheric nuances and Ringwald’s away-from-school life (working in a record store, tending her dad) taps into common teen-age problems. Her easy, quirky friendship with the hypertensive Cryer rings true. As the smart and smitten outsider, he is convincingly vulnerable and likable.

Characters who ring less true include Stanton’s role as the bathrobe-clad father. He’s a deadbeat, pining away for his long-departed wife but as written here the role is reminiscent of an old-time, hangdog-lovable Disney villain. Another oddity is Ringwald’s co-worker in the record store (Annie Potts), a ’60s leftover who looks 15, alternates between punk and beehive hairdos and listens to the Association, of all groups. It’s a nice and odd idea, but such lines as “I loved The Big Chill” make this pseudo-’60s section a distraction.

Ringwald and McCarthy are outstanding in their roles, a credit to writer Hughes and first-time director Harold Deutch. Ringwald’s prim, disciplined portrayal adds just the right touch of endearing spunkiness, while McCarthy, fighting with his social demons, is a likable rich kid with character substance.

As two snotty rich girls, Kate Vernon and Emily Longstreth are positively princess, convincing in their cool bitchiness.

Certain to be a touchstone for teen-agers grappling with identity and prom problems this spring, Pretty in Pink is discolored by a pat and incredible ending. Hughes has drummed up a blonde exmachina to save the day. It rings false Molly’s last choice is a surprise and will be, for many, a disappointment. Technical credits, all of them, get top grades. — Duane Byrge, originally published on Feb. 7, 1986.