Andrew McCarthy, now 61, well-off, and trim, has a storied career in Hollywood. Yet, one label from his past continues to haunt him: the “Brat Pack.” During the Reagan era, McCarthy, along with other young actors like Emilio Estevez, Molly Ringwald, Demi Moore, Ally Sheedy, Judd Nelson, Rob Lowe, and possibly Anthony Michael Hall, were grouped under this moniker. The term, coined in 1985, was meant to capture the essence of a new wave of Hollywood talent but ended up being a double-edged sword.
McCarthy, known for his roles in “Pretty in Pink” and “St. Elmo’s Fire,” recalls how the label changed his life. The actors, once united, scattered, avoiding collaborations to escape the stigma. McCarthy describes the label as “defining” and suggests it left him with a form of PTSD.
Nearly four decades later, McCarthy embarks on a journey to explore the impact of the “Brat Pack” label in his new Hulu documentary, “Brats.” His first stop is a cautious Estevez, who admits that while the term had initial perks, it ultimately did “more damage than good.” Estevez notes that it created a perception of them as “lightweights.”
McCarthy’s documentary features visits to other former “Brat Pack” members like Sheedy, Moore, Lowe, Jon Cryer, Tim Hutton, and Lea Thompson. These encounters feel like therapy sessions, with each actor sharing their experiences and the lasting impact of the label. Notably absent are Ringwald and Nelson, perhaps still nursing old wounds.
In one poignant moment, McCarthy tells Estevez that directors like Martin Scorsese and Steven Spielberg would never consider casting someone from the “Brat Pack.” Estevez even admits to pulling out of a movie to avoid working with McCarthy. However, it’s worth noting that actors like Tom Cruise, who was adjacent to the “Brat Pack,” worked with Scorsese, and Moore became a major Hollywood star in the ’90s. Robert Downey Jr., also loosely associated with the group, went on to win an Oscar.
As McCarthy visits his former colleagues in their luxurious homes, the sense of injustice seems to have faded. Moore’s estate, with its elegant wood panels, shaded pool, and minimalist design, hardly suggests a life ruined by a label from 1985. The documentary is well-scored, featuring songs by The Cure, Lou Reed, Steve Winwood, Alphaville, and a haunting cover of “Don’t You (Forget About Me)” by Zoe Fox and the Rocket Clocks.
However, McCarthy’s visual style in the documentary is somewhat fragmented. He captures his camera and sound operators in the frame and switches between jerky iPhone footage and polished portraits. His use of old clips, including movie scenes and TV interview outtakes, is excellent.
Midway through the documentary, it transforms into a celebration of “Brat Pack” movies. Cultural observer Malcolm Gladwell discusses the generational shift in Hollywood, while Susannah Gora, author of “You Couldn’t Ignore Me If You Tried,” highlights the impact of these films on teens in the Midwest. Pop culture critic Ira Madison III points out the lack of diversity in “Brat Pack” movies, and “Less Than Zero” writer Bret Easton Ellis acknowledges their influence on his work. Screenwriter Michael Oates Palmer notes that these movies were among the first to take young people’s lives seriously.
These insights could have formed the foundation of a more compelling documentary. Gladwell even mentions that he modeled parts of his high school identity on Cryer’s character Duckie from “Pretty in Pink.” Yet, McCarthy remains focused on his personal journey.
McCarthy comes across as thoughtful, able to quote Tennessee Williams and Eugene O’Neill, and often deep in his feelings. But the “bratty” label remains his Moby Dick. This analogy holds when he finally confronts his white whale: David Blum, the journalist who coined the term “Brat Pack” in 1985.
In the film’s climax, McCarthy sits down with Blum, meeting for the first time since the label was created. This is the “You can’t handle the truth” moment. Despite making his case, McCarthy also understands Blum’s position and even finds him likable. When asked if he regrets the label, Blum admits, “I mean, I guess in retrospect, yes. At the time, no. I was proud of the creation of the phrase.” They end their meeting with a hug, reminiscent of a “Brat Pack” movie.
“Brats,” a Hulu release premiering Thursday, is not rated but includes smoking, love scenes, and swearing. The running time is 93 minutes, and it has received mixed reviews, with two stars out of four.
