'80s tribute

Never argue with anyone who wants to write glowing ruminations on the John Hughes oeuvre. We wouldn't dare.

So it was with some misty-eyed joy that we read Patrick Goldstein's Big Picture column in this morning's L.A. Times. It's a love letter to the notoriously reclusive Hughes, who dropped out of the Hollywood rat race more than 15 years ago, via heartfelt tributes from the next generation of filmmakers who owe much debt to the master.

Guys -- and they're almost all guys -- like Kevin Smith, Scott Stuber and Judd Apatow speak wistfully about Hughes films like "Pretty in Pink," "The Breakfast Club," and "Ferris Bueller's Day Off," which, if they were as award-laden as they are seminal would be right up there with "Titanic" and "The English Patient."

But here's the problem: the occasion of the story, the reason Hughes is being feted at this time (as opposed to any other), is his uncredited connection to "Drillbit Taylor," the limp Owen Wilson "My Bodyguard"-ish comedy that got pounded by critics when it opened a few days ago. Audiences didn't like it much either, spending only about $10.2 million at the boxoffice. Turns out the idea originally came from Hughes (though the execution, it must be noted, did not).

We could be mired too deep in our nostalgia, but we just don't want to see our beloved Hughes this way. And on the chance that he doesn't make any more movies, we really don't want to remember him like this.

Curse you, "Drillbit!"