Charles Sykes/InVision/AP
Andrew McCarthy attended the 'Bratz' film premiere during the TriBeCa Festival held at BMCC TriBeCa Performing Arts Center on Friday, June 7, 2024 in New York City.
Editor's note: Sarah Stewart is a film and culture writer living in western Pennsylvania. Opinions expressed here are her own. Find more opinion at CNN.
CNN —
At first glance, Hulu's documentary “Brats” promises to be a deep dive into 1980s nostalgia through director and star Andrew McCarthy, whose mission is to expose the decades of damage and confusion wrought on him and his Hollywood co-stars by the “Brat Pack,” a term flippantly coined in a scathing 1985 headline by cynical journalist David Blum.
Todd Thompson
Sarah Stewart
But spoiler alert: McCarthy seems to be the only one who has nursed that wound over the years. As he visits one former actor after another, it becomes clear that most of them have long been familiar with the term, or have actively parlayed its benefits into the long-term success of their careers. (Looking at you, Rob Lowe: you're an irrepressible ray of sunshine.) Even Emilio Estevez, the subject of the original article, who Blum reports was furious at the time, seems less bothered than McCarthy now. (The jury is still out on Molly Ringwald and Judd Nelson; both have declined to participate.)
I've heard complaints that McCarthy's documentary is self-indulgent, or whiny, or that it misses an opportunity to really dig into the meaning of the achievements of these teenage actors who changed Hollywood forever. These criticisms aren't entirely unfounded. But I think it's worth taking McCarthy's perspective seriously, because this kind of willingness to admit that your feelings have been hurt isn't something you see all that often, especially when it comes to famous people.
Being a celebrity in America has long been a Faustian bargain, where career success depended on appearing in endless newspapers, magazines and online articles and grinningly enduring what are known in the industry as smear campaigns against you.
Blum's piece falls into that category, I think. It's certainly well-written and entertaining. Blum gets close to Estevez, Lowe, and Nelson, which is almost unheard of in today's PR-policed journalism climate. But there's an odd air of cynicism, as if it's somehow surprising to see young male movie stars using their fame and looks to seduce girls and skip turns at clubs. (Their semantic forebears, the Rat Pack, set the bar for debauchery pretty high.) It's notable that McCarthy is barely mentioned; he seems to have been lumped together by association under the term Brat Pack, but was never one of the group's leaders. Perhaps that's part of his indignation, too.
ABC News Studio
Actors Rob Lowe and Andrew McCarthy
As someone who has interviewed countless celebrities over the years, I have seen firsthand (and actively participated in) the way actors endure endless Q&A sessions where they are asked the same topics over and over again. “Brats” includes footage of many such interviews, in which a bored-looking McCarthy and his buddies are forced to talk at length about how they feel about being called “brats.” It seems like an unbearable thing to do, especially if, like McCarthy, you're a sensitive type who wants to be taken seriously and, as he says many times in the documentary, really wants to be “seen.” Most entertainer profiles, then and now, seem written to fit a pre-existing narrative about the person. When was the last time a story about an entertainer really shook up your view of them?
And McCarthy isn't wrong to say that the term “Brat Pack” was often used as a derogatory term for a new generation of teen actors. Of course, this wasn't the first example of salacious celebrity reporting — just look back at the lurid articles about Elizabeth Taylor's exploits — but I think the Brat Pack era sparked an increase in sheer meanness in celebrity reporting, spawning an industry that thoroughly criticized entertainers like Britney Spears and Amanda Bynes when they crumbled under the spotlight of fame.
This is the same kind of cruelty that has come to dominate social media and comment sections since journalism moved online, where anyone who dares to go out in public (and who often ends up there inadvertently) becomes an easy target for ridicule and being taken down a notch or two. The prevailing sentiment seems to be that if you want to be famous, you have to shut up and put up. Sure, maybe McCarthy was overly sensitive about being portrayed as a cocky, loudmouthed clique, but should we demand buffalo hides from all mainstream artists? Isn't that really at odds with being an artist in touch with his feelings?
A 2021 New Yorker profile of Jeremy Strong reminded me of McCarthy's complaints. The article criticized Strong for taking himself too seriously, for continuing to play characters with method acting even between takes, and for annoying colleagues with his dedication. Strong subsequently said he felt foolish and betrayed, and friends came to his defense. Jessica Chastain responded most eloquently, writing on X (formerly Twitter) “The profile published on him was incredibly one-sided. Guys, don't believe everything you read. Sarcasm sells, but maybe it's time to move beyond it.”
Subscribe to our free weekly newsletter
This seems to be one of McCarthy's aims in creating “Bratz.” I don't think he's given much credit for turning to other strengths. He's a successful TV director and travel writer, and he spoke with Brooke Shields on her podcast last year. In the same interview, he also speaks candidly about how big a role fear plays in his life, and how he's learned to come to terms with it. How many famous people can you name who have spoken openly about their fears? How interesting would it be if men were comfortable talking about this? And what kind of change would that bring about in the toxic masculinity that still dominates our culture?
I hope that releasing his documentary will help McCarthy come to terms with this quote that has haunted him for so long. I am sure it will also help him come to terms with that weirdly awful haircut he had at the end of “Pretty in Pink” (it was actually a wig!). Everybody's a winner!
