St. Elmo’s Fire (1985)

Directed by Joel Schumacher. Starring Rob Lowe, Andrew McCarthy, Ally Sheedy, Demi Moore, Emilio Estevez, Judd Nelson, Mare Winningham, Andie MacDowell, Martin Balsam, Jenny Wright. [R]

Seven repellent recent Georgetown grads are stuck in the limbo between youth in adulthood, dealing with their self-absorbed problems while supposedly being good friends with each other (though nothing in their behavior suggests this is the case). Lowe is an irresponsible letch, Estevez an unhinged stalker, Moore a coked-out tramp, Nelson an adulterous sociopath, etc.; the closest to a reputable human being is Winningham’s rich girl who thinks doing welfare work will absolve her of endowment guilt, but she’s still positioned as a dowdy dope obsessed with Lowe’s saxy bad boy. Despite being the nexus of the Brat Pack trend, the film can’t settle on an attitude toward these aimless snobs, but judging by the way they giggle with each other in the aftermath of each melodramatic event (or even during), the audience is supposed to find it both charming and sub-culturally studious. But there’s no insight at all into these specific people or the milieu on the infancy of yuppiedom, and their awkward conversations only function as clunky character development and vocalizations of smug narcissism. Schumacher’s hideous visual choices culminate in a blown-curtain climax that treats suicidal despair like the set dressing for a power ballad music video. The best that can be said is that some of the actors are okay, but they’re still breathing stale life into the last people anyone would want to get drinks with at St. Elmo’s Bar (like congratulating Ali on having a great jab while he pummels you into the canvas).

8/100