Stream It Or Skip It: ‘Brats’ on Hulu, Andrew McCarthy’s Lightly Therapeutic Brat Pack Retrospective

Brats (now streaming on Hulu) is the latest in a recent, seemingly endless string of Hollywood-retrospective documentaries ranging from fascinating navel-gazing indulgences bankrolled by their subjects (docs about Sylvester Stallone and Pamela Anderson) to documentaries-as-therapy sessions (profiling Val Kilmer and Michael J. Fox). This one lands squarely in the middle, as Andrew McCarthy, best known for starring in ’80s touchstones Pretty in Pink and St. Elmo’s Fire, looks back on the “Brat Pack,” the deathless label that was slapped on him and a handful of young fellow actors who frequently worked together, and would ultimately help define their generation. And I use the word “slapped” with purpose and intent, because that’s how McCarthy felt about the term at the time – and still feels, to an extent. This is his exploration of what it means now, nearly four decades later.

BRATS: STREAM IT OR SKIP IT?

The Gist: In 1985, New York Magazine writer David Blum set out to profile rising Hollywood star Emilio Estevez. While hanging out with the actor, Blum realized Estevez was among a wave of young talent who were the face of a tsunami-sized trend: movies bullseyeing audiences in their teens and early 20s. “Studios discovered the box office potential of a young audience,” McCarthy says in voiceover, “and they aimed their moneymaking tractor beam right at it.” Blum came up with a catchy catchall name for this quasi-collective: the Brat Pack. The label stuck like crazy glue. It was a quippy, cutesy riff on the old-guard Rat Pack, who were being usurped by a new generation. It also was a bit… mean. And the article chided the young stars for their hard-partying lifestyles and lack of formal, professional training. McCarthy describes the first time hearing the phrase “Brat Pack” as being “stabbed in the back.” He felt his career take a hard left, that no major players in the movie business would take him and his colleagues’ work seriously.

Is McCarthy bitter about this? Maybe a little. He’s on-screen constantly in Brats, because he’s the director and it’s his project, his idea to take pause and reflect on what the phrase meant back then and what it means now. Those of us who grew up in the ’80s know how monumental some of those movies were: The Breakfast Club, Pretty in Pink, Sixteen Candles, The Outsiders and others simultaneously reflected and defined the experiences of many, many young people. We saw it as a phenomenon then, and a cultural movement now. The films were and still are lots of fun, inspiring good memories, laughs and nostalgia; but couched within them was an emotional earnestness that helps them endure. For many, the Brat Pack inspires, for lack of a better term, great heaping wads of warm fuzzies.

But, McCarthy says, this “wasn’t the reality of our experience.” It’s funny how, in 1985, the headline of a New York article was ground zero for media ubiquity: Cue clips of Johnny Carson and Phil Donahue and Gene Shalit using the phrase freely because everyone in America knew what it meant. But what does it mean now? McCarthy says he sort of has PTSD from the spectacle, and believes that talking about it will maybe help resolve some of that psychic tension. So he tracks down fellow core Brat Packers Estevez, Ally Sheedy, Demi Moore and Rob Lowe – note: Molly Ringwald politely passed on participating, Judd Nelson was difficult to track down and I don’t think Anthony Michael Hall is even mentioned in this movie – to air out the contents of some old baggage. He also sits down with peripheral Brat Packers like Lea Thompson, Timothy Hutton and Jon Cryer; some casting directors, film directors and writers from the era; critics and cultural commentators who offer context and outside perspectives; and Blum himself, who is almost sort of the Roger Smith of McCarthy’s almost sort of version of Roger and Me – except Nelson is the big fish McCarthy fails to land, which really sets Brats up to end in a certain way, with a certain song, maybe by Simple Minds? NO SPOILERS, though.

What Movies Will It Remind You Of?: Still: A Michael J. Fox Movie and Val spin off this one nicely. It also features an intimate POV a la Soleil Moon Frye’s Kid 90, although it’s not nearly as psychotherapeutic.

Performance Worth Watching: Sheedy’s, when McCarthy reveals he had a crush on her way back when.

Memorable Dialogue: McCarthy cuts to the quick: “I think we perceived it as, ‘You’re spoiled f—ing brats.’”

Sex and Skin: None.

Our Take: McCarthy is nothing but genial throughout Brats – good thing, because he’s in nearly every shot, driving, walking, setting up the scene, calling his old colleagues on the phone. But he has an ax to grind, and it has nothing to do with who made more money or starred in bigger movies or had longer and stronger careers. He sits down with Hutton – who raises bees on a remote farm these days – and talks about how he “didn’t feel seen” after the Brat Pack label redefined his career. There’s no debating the legitimacy of his experience and emotions, and although everyone generally agrees that Blum’s piece was mostly mean-spirited, those feelings may mostly be his own: Estevez comes off a bit reluctant to dwell on the past, and reveals that he torpedoed a movie for him and McCarthy because of the Brat Pack label. Sheedy asks of the lingering weight of the phenomenon, “Why should that be a demon?” Moore spins the conversation into a discussion about the nature of fear. Lowe positive-spins it as being at the forefront of a true cultural force that resulted in Glee and Friends and every summer tentpole movie being aimed at young audiences. 

And so Brats turns up the old truth that’s a cliche because it’s so damn true: The wise thing to do is to get out the ol’ psychic colander and strain out the good stuff while letting the bad stuff run down the drain. Every face-to-face in the movie concludes with hugs and handshakes – even Blum, who waffles a little but stands by his piece and admits some of the language could’ve been tempered (and also awkwardly suggests he deserves some credit for helping make St. Elmo’s Fire a hit, while McCarthy bats his eyes with incredulity). 

So it was a reasonably fruitful endeavor for McCarthy, who turns a few sour grapes into a mostly sweet wine. But what about for the viewer? Well, a retrospective of clips from beloved movies is always at least superficially satisfying, prompting that maybe it’s time to watch Taps again for some reason feeling. We get to see the inside of celebs’ homes, some more extravagant as others, and of course Moore is interviewed alongside a fancy pool in an Edenesque wooded alcove that just moans peeeeeeaaaaaaccccceeeee. Most entertaining is a discussion of who actually is in the Brat Pack – Tom Cruise? Matt Dillon? More importantly, does it matter? For a generation that reveres its touchstones (and laments how pop-cultural common denominators no longer exist in the splintered internet age), yes, because again, it’s more than just nostalgia. And it’s warming to see McCarthy reunite with associates after decades, and have something to talk about that’s real and quickly transcends banalities. Don’t don’t don’t don’t you forget about them.

Our Call: With or without Brats, we wouldn’t have forgotten about them. But getting some insider perspective on them has value beyond simple reminiscence. STREAM IT.

John Serba is a freelance writer and film critic based in Grand Rapids, Michigan.