I was on the fence for most of Brats, a Brat Pack documentary by Andrew McCarthy, former member of the Brat Pack. Actually, he is still a member of the Brat Pack. Once you are in that club, you can’t leave.
I sympathized with his general unease in his younger acting days when, after an article written by some smartass journalist came out, he and Molly Ringwald, Judd Nelson, Emilio Estevez, Ally Sheedy, Rob Lowe and others were labeled the “Brat Pack.” McCarthy didn’t like the implication of being labeled a brat, and he’s held a bit of a grudge throughout the years. Understandable.
But, man, this dude—a very privileged and lucky dude, I might add—just won’t stop whining. And when he sits with the actual journalist who wrote the article at the film’s end, he just keeps drilling the guy for writing the article, even during the goodbye handshake.
Oh, shut up, you whiny bitch. You were a movie star. You are still kind of a movie star (albeit not as much of one as most of the other members of the so-called Brat Pack). Maybe that’s because you whined about being in the Brat Pack too much—and, you know, you signed on the dotted line for the Weekend at Bernie’s movies. I concur that “Brat Pack” was an unfair labeling of a solid group of young actors, and it pissed me off from day one, but come on, let it go.
Much of the film is McCarthy calling old acting accomplices and trying to secure interviews. He hooks Lowe, Estevez, Sheedy, Demi Moore and Jon Cryer, while Nelson and Ringwald abstain, probably because this dude drives them crazy.
Some of the interviews are fine (especially those with Lowe and Estevez), and being a big fan of these movies, I enjoy the subject matter. But McCarthy isn’t a great documentarian, and his pissy attitude eventually kills all the fun.
Brats is now streaming on Hulu.
