Being a cultural author, especially one tasked with commenting on popular culture events, can put you in the position of a critic or cynic as often as it may make you a king (or queen) maker. Let’s face it, all of popular culture is not amazing or interesting; things noteworthy today may fade from the annals of history next 12 months and be remembered through humorous looks back like “What were we thinking?” capability. But sometimes you write something that has an instantaneous impact and lasts eternally, for higher or for worse, depending in your point of view.

In June 1985, author and editor David Blum wrote a canopy story for New York Magazine titled “Hollywood Brats” about the actors (none of the actresses who might need fit into the list at the time are included) who made up the hitherto unnamed group, and the fame-hungry, frivolous but lucrative lives they seemed to lead. The plot centered around Emilio Estevez, Rob Lowe, and Judd Nelson – actors who starred together and individually in several movies that became cultural markers of Nineteen Eighties American youth culture. I can be remiss if I didn’t mention that these are white cultural markers. American youth – in the worlds created by John Hughes and his ilk, there have been only a few people of color; Ira Madison and Malcolm Gladwell talk about this in the documentary.

The article and its consequences (or not) were the inspiration for Andrew McCarthy’s documentary about the band “Brats,” now available on Hulu. McCarthy, who was mentioned in the article through a negative quote from one other anonymous Brat Packer, appears to have held on to the term and any negative connotations as a kind of albatross around his neck for nearly 40 years. The goal of his documentary was to track down as many Brat Packers as possible and discover who were part of this group (again, the original article didn’t name any of the leading women of the era, but history has already fixed that) and understand what this term meant for his or her careers and lives.

The documentary is fascinating. First, I was too young to realize what number of of the actors mentioned eschewed the label. I didn’t even understand how the term got here about, although I knew it (and a few of the people as members) until I began watching the documentary. I know the John Hughes era, of course; I’ve seen my fair proportion of era-defining movies, from “Risky Business” to “Pretty in Pink” to “The Breakfast Club” to “St. Elmo’s Fire” etc. Although loved by thousands and thousands, I was never an enormous fan. When I began watching these movies, I didn’t feel like I was seeing them in any respect, but I was able to understand them as representative of the cultural spirit of the Nineteen Eighties. John Hughes didn’t write or direct all the Brat Packers movies, but you possibly can’t talk about the Brat Pack without John Hughes. However, thanks to the documentary’s archival interview footage, it seems that many actors and actresses have rejected the moniker and the box it was placed in, which is interesting because many of them (Tom Cruise, Demi Moore, and Sean Penn, for instance) have had successful film careers.

Entertainment

Honestly, the article couldn’t have done any of these men any favors, even though it looks like quite a challenge to put a stop to their careers. While watching the documentary, I stopped to read the article. To call it dishonorable can be an understatement. The plot centers on Estevez and kind of portrays him, Lowe and Nelson as aloof, selfish, self-centered young actors who don’t care about the rest but themselves – principally as young, successful movie stars. Oh, that shows that neither of them went to acting school; this implies they take fame more seriously than craft. This sentiment is scattered throughout the article and repeated repeatedly in documentary interviews with various people McCarthy interviews, including Estevez, Lowe, Moore, Tim Hutton, Jon Cryer and Ally Sheedy. According to McCarthy, the article (and nickname) trivialized them as actors and professionals and deeply affected a whole group of people, though it focused on several evenings spent with Estevez, Lowe and Nelson. Today we could call it successful work. And thanks to the catchy title, the group’s name and the narrative it runs, I can see the way it could have influenced the actors’ lives. Again, fascinating.

At the end of the documentary, McCarthy meets with Blum to discuss the controversial article and discover if Blum would have done anything otherwise in his writing process. Almost defiantly, in defense of his article, Blum argued that he would not have done anything different, and admitted that the article could have been a bit of mean, but that is what he saw. He even seemed a bit of confused (perhaps more confused) that the article he wrote caused a lot consternation, and yet he was proud to be someone who defined a cultural phenomenon. McCarthy, on the other hand, seemed less enthused and almost wanted an apology for the impact the case 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 never, I rarely considered any actual potential consequences. I never considered that something I wrote as part of my weekly duties might influence the perception or narrative around an individual – I like to think I’m calling something a thing. Sure, I’ve had greater than my fair proportion of social media conflicts with artists or media personalities who questioned what I wrote, but of their minds my living rent-free articles at all times seemed far-fetched. It’s telling to see McCarthy sitting with Blum throughout the documentary, which he created specifically to tell the story of living rent-free for 40 years. It reminds us that the people we write about, real or perceived, are people and might act like people. For McCarthy, being a member of the Brat Pack had immediate and long-lasting consequences on his profession.

I can admit that over time I stopped attacking people I didn’t know, famous or not, so harshly in the press. I realized that celebrating didn’t require as much of me as giving people tasks. I’ve even apologized to one or two people for writing something unsympathetic and even mean, though I do not know in the event that they ever read the apology. I read the things I wrote and cringed; While I don’t think it will have any impact on any profession, the truth is I do not know. “Brats” shows how this may occur even to the most famous people in the industry. I used to think that famous people were too big to care about the world’s words and opinions, but I guess I’m incorrect. McCarthy’s documentary illustrates how much some people care and that simply because a author goes further does not imply the subject does too. It’s a lesson in humility and looking out at the other side.

As a author who has made some decisions based by myself mental health, it has confirmed that sometimes, just sometimes, the things we write hit home in ways we do not expect, and it doesn’t cost me anything to remember of that.