Pretty in Pink: Everything's Duckie Edition / Some Kind of Wonderful: Special Collector's Edition Howard Deutch

What the hell happened to John Hughes? Easily the most successful screenwriter of the ’80s, not to mention a talented director and lucrative producer, he dropped off the face of the earth when the ’90s hit. (Let’s not acknowledge his work under pen name Edmond Dantés, shall we?) The man responsible for such memorable comedies as Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, Home Alone, Weird Science and the Vacation series, these two special edition reissues reveal that his best work was his syrupy teen scripts. Because of the similarities, you could pit these two films together in the ultimate ’80s teen romance death match. Classic high school tales of unpopular peculiars who look for love in rich places and usually end up giving a swift kick to the nuts of the conceited, disapproving beautiful people. Pretty in Pink made Molly Ringwald a teenage superstar as the quirky Andie, who is swept away by Andrew McCarthy’s Blane right in front of the sad, pathetic eyes of her "buddy” Duckie (Jon Cryer). The lesser-regarded Some Kind of Wonderful situates Eric Stoltz’s Keith (another redhead!) in a similar position with the school’s sex kitten, Amanda Jones (Lea Thompson), but in the end he miraculously discovers that his tomboyish pal Watts (Mary Stuart Masterson) is the better choice. Okay, so the girl picks the rich guy and the boy picks the poor girl, call it a human study on where each sex’s principles lie. Or not. By today’s standards, the stories are astoundingly rapid in their development: pine for someone, get said someone, mutually fall in love instantly (both films use the word "love,” not the more appropriate "like”), show up the callous, rich asshole and live happily ever after. It’s great Hollywood teenage fantasy where the socially inadequate rise above and get the love they desire. That, along with a complete understanding of cool at that time, thanks to Hughes — cutting edge music (New Order, Psychedelic Furs, the Smiths, OMD), trendsetting fashion and witty one-liners — make these unforgettable classics when compared to today’s fare: John Tucker Must Die, any Hilary Duff nonsense. The extra featurettes mostly reminiscence about the days of yore with cast and crew interviews, and, as usual, concern the good times, casting, the importance of certain characters, etc. Unquestionably, the only real meat on the bones is the revelation of PiP’s original ending, where Andie shuns Blane and walks off into the sunset with Duckie. Cryer remembers how Ringwald was actually nauseous during the attempted filming, and shows relief that it never became Pretty in Projectile Vomit, which provides some amusing imaginary imagery. Plus: commentary, gallery, "John Hughes Time Capsule.” (Paramount)