The Breakfast Club Resources

The IMDB is the revered center for technical info on movies—cast lists, specifics on the kind of film used, a brief synopsis, a little trivia, etc. So, feel free to check it out.

This page collects all the movie reviews of The Breakfast Club from over the years. They're pretty good, aside from a few curmudgeonly dissenters.

2015 was the movie's 30th anniversary. However, John Hughes himself didn't live to see it.

The Breakfast Club is also the name of a '80s music cover band. Apparently, they (and not any movie fan-sites) own the url for "thebreakfastclub.com."

This semi-scripted documentary about the life of American teenagers overtly stole its poster design from The Breakfast Club.

This article pays tribute to Hughes after his death—interviewing his sons and delving into the trials and travails of his career, including his sudden breaks with Ringwald and Hall.

This somewhat hostile article coined the term "Brat Pack" (riffing off Sinatra's Rat Pack) to describe The Breakfast Club's actors and associated stars. The article may not be entirely fair or pleasant, but it's a part of movie history.

This uncovers a bunch of trivia about The Breakfast Club, including the fact that there was originally a gratuitous nude scene that John Hughes ended up deleting.

Lists are the lifeblood of the internet. So, it shouldn't come as that much of a surprise that The Huffington Post published two lists of Breakfast Club trivia… uh, within the span of two months. Plus, this one has fifteen fun facts in it, giving it the edge.

Unterberger delves into the history of Simple Minds' epic track, "Don't You (Forget About Me)," which closes The Breakfast Club.

Ringwald was Hughes' protégé, starring in three of his biggest movies. Here, she talks about Hughes's masterpiece and says that originally they wanted Robin Wright to play the Claire role. (Robin Wright now plays the first lady, Claire Underwood, on House of Cards.)

This video catalogs a bunch of references to The Breakfast Club from pop culture: from Community to Family Guy to Gilmore Girls to, um, Cougar Town.

This interview is very calm and '80s.

A spectacled, professorial Nelson reflects on his halcyon days, back when he was John Bender, iconic bad boy.

This might be the one scene that seems the most '80s—not the kind of thing you would find in a teen movie anymore, except maybe ironically.

Paul Gleason utters one of his classic lines, suavely making a horn-sign with his hand as he sentences Bender to another Saturday of detention.

Bender utters the fatal words, "Eat my shorts," dooming himself to another two months of detention.

Interestingly, Simple Minds didn't actually write this, their most famous song. A songwriter working for the movies, Keith Forsey, penned this angsty classic.

Here's the immortal, angst-laden song with lyrics, so you can use it during '80s music sing-a-long, if you're holding one for some reason.

This alternative version has a longer introductory part before jumping into things. If you're used to the normal version, it's pleasantly jarring.

Nothing too out of the ordinary, here—the poster basically shows all the characters posing together.

Here's another poster with the characters posing, except in this one they're standing up and leaning against a blackboard. So you know it's set in a school.

This documentary poster either rips off or pays homage to The Breakfast Club's original poster, depending on your perspective.

Gleason conveys the self-assured, arrogant slickness of Vernon with style.

Nelson redefines the high school bad boy with his constant scene-stealing as John Bender.

Rather than seeming like an immortal athlete on top of Olympus, Estevez is screwing around with the drawstring on his hooded sweatshirt. Who hasn't?

Sheedy is making a sarcastic gesture and going full Goth—before being forced to wear a bow in her hair at movie's end.

Claire gives Allison a makeover, eliminating her Goth look. This has become the subject of endless controversy.

Hall conveys shyness and fragility as Brian, a stressed-out high school intellectual.

As her illusions and pretensions are crushed, Claire weeps openly.

Kapelos seems kindly and avuncular as the understanding janitor, Carl.

And here's John Hughes himself—the 35-year-old Baby Boomer who somehow ended up speaking for 1980s teenagers.