The insane beauty and charm of Matthew Broderick in Ferris Bueller (almost played by John Cusack). Never as beautiful again. Never as good in a role either. His fuck-me mouth, big round fawn eyes. The dandy outfits, the girlish leather sandals he wears while lounging at the pool. At complete ease in his own skin. I love a dark-haired beauty and the movie, rare for the 1980s, gives us a trio of dark haired beauty. But it’s all about the way Ferris races home at the end of the film that makes it interesting. It’s camp, balletic, aesthete. Buoyancy made buoyant on the backyard trampoline. It’s personality-driven and not altogether straight. Did we all like it—Ferris—the way we all like Harry Styles today, because of Ferris’ ability to simultaneously love and defy (and queer)—anyone and everyone? It’s a popularity centered on difference, not sameness. A difference that sometimes and somehow wins everyone over.
Crossposted with Love Dog.