Budd Schulberg & John Hughes: Appreciating Their Words On Screen

Does anyone remember when words coming out of actors' mouths actually counted for something in the movies?
Before you could feel the impact of sound waves vibrating against your body, do you remember when you could actually feel emotion in the movies?
Yeah, I exaggerate, but just a little. Today we mourn the passing of two significant screenwriters, sadly taken from us on the same day: John Hughes and Budd Schulberg.
Mr. Hughes wrote mainly about young people -- teens to toddlers -- but because he was close to my age, I could relate to his themes and characters. Who didn't feel the angst of being an outsider, as he expressed in The Breakfast Club, his film about a variety pack of high-schoolers forced to spend a Saturday detention together? How could this maturing man mine the insecurities of budding womanhood as he did in Sixteen Candles and Pretty in Pink? And I don't know how you react, but the sight of Matthew Broderick, the ultimate con man in Ferris Bueller's Day Off, commandeering a Chicago parade to sing "Twist & Shout" still makes me laugh out loud, as unlikely as that fun-filled scene plays out.
Mr. Hughes couldn't help but write. When he wasn't penning blockbusters, he slummed by authoring throwaway screenplays, such as the Beethoven quadrology, Flubber and Drillbit Taylor. But when he put his mind to it, he created the most exquisite characters, teenagers who came to life, warts and acne intact, heartaches on their sleeves for all to see. Most important, he didn't condescend to his subjects. He knew their problems. He understood their pain. He was one of them.
Another person who wrote with the common touch was Budd Schulberg. His familiarity with the vernacular of the working class belied his privileged upbringing as Mr. Schulberg grew up on the faux streets of movie studios, the son of a man who headed production at Paramount studio.
Not nearly so prolific as Mr. Hughes, Mr. Schulberg wrote the screenplays for only a handful of Hollywood films and many TV plays. But when your resume includes "On the Waterfront," what else do you need?
Director Elia Kazan and Mr. Schulberg went to Hoboken, N.J., on the heels of Malcolm Johnson's award-winning newspaper expose on the influence of organized crime on longshoremen. What emerged was one of the most emotional, heart-wrenching films in Hollywoods history, which showed the plight of ordinary workers trying to make a living against a wide variety of odds. In a film filled with classic moments, none stands above the iconic scene between Terry Molloy, played by Marlon Brando, and his brother, Charlie (Rod Steiger). Terry confronts not only Charlie but his own tragedies, recounting how his future as a contender for the boxing championship was sacrificed for short-term gain. It is all the more poignant given the beautiful street language of the scene. Kazin later said, "I didn't really direct that scene. With Budd's beautiful words, it directed itself."
Schulberg also wrote a gem for Kazan that does not get the attention it deserves: "A Face in the Crowd." It is the greatest, most prescient film that you probably haven't seen, and I recommend that you see it as soon as possible. In this story, broadcast exec Patricia Neal plucks a vulgar but charismatic drifter/grifter from the jailhouse and guides him to nationwide fame. Renamed Lonesome Rhodes (played to perfection by Andy Griffith in his movie debut), the man rises to superstardom, his folksy, down-home ways masking a vicious and mendacious ego. Soon, ol' Lonesome becomes not only king of the airwaves but a king maker, as he understands all too well what the public really wants in this wicked world. See this scene in which Lonesome introduces a local Senator, who is up for re-election, to his "general store" for some plain talk. You can see a foreshadowing of how certain media moderators even today can manipulate their audiences and shape their opinions.
Mr. Hughes and Mr. Schulberg came from two different eras, and each portrayed a different set of Americans. They served their subjects by reaching into their souls, portraying them as fully realized people and not set pieces. We will miss their work. More than that, we will miss their influence.