The Oscars break a glass ceiling, a tribute to a great music teacher, and love for Mr. Mom

Scale of 1 to 10 on last night’s Oscars? I’m going with a 7.7.

Pretty good Academy Awards show, I thought. No major surprises, no unbelievably memorable moments, but pretty good stuff all around, which I’ve come to expect. Maybe it’s me, but it seems like after being bad for a few years, the Oscars have been good for a while now.

Only wish we didn’t have SUCH predictability. Seems like we used to get more upsets. Marisa Tomei winning, or Roberto Benigni (best speech ever, just a totally insanely happy man on the best day of his life), those were genuine stunners.

Still, Sunday night had some moments, good and bad. My quick thoughts:

– OK, Kathy Ireland, you’re beautiful, and you’ve aged beautifully. But oh my God, you were the worst excuse for an interviewer in the history of the world. I mean, if awfulness were people, you’d be India. Dear God, I yearned for Ryan Seacrest, she was so bad!

– Thought Sandra Bullock had the speech of the night; you could tell she knew that unlike Meryl Streep (who shoulda won), this was one her shot ever at Oscar. She seemed really heartfelt, and I’m glad she thanked the Tuohy family (the real-life family in “The Blind Side” ) in her acceptance.

– Steve Martin and Alec Baldwin were better than I thought. Some of the opening jokes were great (The Meryl Streep-Hitler one was particularly funny, and the Steve Martin joke to Christoph Waltz about hunting for Jews was brilliant), and they kept the show moving pretty well.

– Why are we subjected to the god-awful musical numbers that go on for 412 minutes every year? Does anyone enjoy these?

– Tell you what I always DO enjoy: The Dead People Montage. I love honoring those who are no longer with us one last time, for all the good work they did while they were breathing. I do feel sorry, though, for the behind-the-scenes people they honor who never really get much applause from the audience. Patrick Swayze? Big hand from the crowd. Cinematographer guy no one’s ever heard of? Only crickets are heard.

– I knew they were going to do something for my man John Hughes, but it was better than I’d hoped. Loved seeing “The Breakfast Club” group up there. Would it have been too much to ask for them all to break out into the “dancing in the library” scene from the movie? And Anthony Michael Hall, wow, he looked totally different.

– Mo’Nique won for best supporting actress and gave a real nice speech. And no one’s making a big deal that an African-American woman got an Oscar.

I’d say that’s progress, wouldn’t you?

– Hard to believe no woman had ever won best director before; about damn time someone did. Way to go, Kathryn Bigelow. And I love that her enormously egotistical ex-husband James Cameron had to sit there and watch her win.

Just discovered that “The Hurt Locker” is already on my cable box pay per view on Demand channel. Definitely going to watch it soon.

– And finally, from my wife, who pays way more attention to Oscar fashion than I do: “Miley Cyrus, stand up straight! And that dress is totally inappropriate for a 16-year-old!”

Amen.

**So sometimes I think I’ve posted something on here that I’ve actually only emailed to a bunch of people I know (What can I tell you? I’m a fool.)

I thought I had posted this last week, but apparently, not so much. This beautiful story from the the New York Times last week, by Joanne Lipman, is about her old music teacher. When he died, his old students came together for a final tribute concert. It’s a really beautiful story.

**And finally, because that John Hughes Oscar tribute was so good, and because I feel this movie is criminally underappreciated, a funny scene from “Mr. Mom.” (I tried to find the Schooner Tuna commercial, but dammit, it’s not on Youtube.)

R.I.P. John Hughes, the director of my childhood

Every generation has voices who spoke to them. Older voices who were the soundtracks and the video reels of our childhood.

Sure. we romanticize them sometimes. But they’re as much a part of our growing up as Little League and Girl Scouts, camping trips and hallway lockers.

This summer, my generation lost its soundtrack in Michael Jackson. And now we’ve lost our filmmaker in the legendary John Hughes.

Generation X has suffered two body blows in the matter of months. I swear to God, if Madonna gets hit by a bus next week, I think I may lose it.

To say I loved John Hughes movies is like saying I kind of like chocolate chip cookies.

I’m certain I can quote three of his eight directed films, line for line, by heart. Just get me started on any scene from “The Breakfast Club” (“This is what you get in my house, when you spill paint in the garage!”), “Planes, Trains and Automobiles” (Didn’t you notice on the plane, when you started talking, eventually I started reading the vomit bag!”) or “Ferris Bueller’s Day Off” (“You’re Abe Froman? The sausage king of Chicago?”), and I’m gone for 20 minutes.

It’s incredible to me that in eight films, he left such a mark. He also wrote “Mr. Mom,” “Weird Science,” and “She’s Having a Baby,” three more that will always live in the 1980s canon.

Hughes’ brilliance was shown in so many ways. For one thing, he didn’t condescend to the viewers. He actually created real characters who talked like real high schoolers, and he painted a portrait of kids who we all could identify with.

Who didn’t know a Stef from “Pretty in Pink,” or “The Geek” in “Sixteen Candles”? This was the first time I felt like a movie was really about people who could’ve existed in my life.

Then there was the writing. Hughes’ scripts were always filled with laughter and fantastic one-liners, but they also contained so much heart.

That scene in “The Breakfast Club” where they’re all sitting around the library and Emilio Estevez is talking about taping Larry Lester’s buns together is so surprisingly moving. The ending of “Pretty in Pink” is so sweet, too, with Ducky finally blowing out his torch for Andie and encouraging her to go find Blane.

Hughes had the ability to infuse a scene with warmth and make you melt inside, but not go too far into mushy territory.

Thinking about him tonight, as I’m sure millions of people my age are, I’m blown away at how often I’ve quoted a Hughes movie, or watched one of them on cable (OK, so they’re on every 10 minutes somewhere, I still can’t skip past them), or referenced it in everyday life.

Say the name “Jake Ryan” and my wife’s eyes light up and a huge smile comes to her face. Was any 80s movie character more beloved by girls than he was? Mention Steve Martin and John Candy in the same sentence, and so many people think of “Those aren’t pillows!”

Literally every time my best childhood friends Andrew, Marc, Tracie and I are together, one of us will quote a line from “The Breakfast Club.” Every. Single. Time.

The Brat Pack shot to fame thanks to Hughes (if you have to ask who the Brat Pack are, I will feel really old), and he used the same actors over and over because they perfectly embodied what he wanted.

John Hughes didn’t win Oscars like Francis Ford Coppola, and he won’t go down as a cinematic genius like Oliver Stone or Steven Spielberg.

But if the true mark of a person is what kind of legacy you’ve left, and how many lives you affected, John Hughes was a giant.

So many of us laughed and cried because of what he created.

Cameron Frye will live in our hearts forever, as will John Bender and Del Griffith and all the rest.

R.I.P. John Hughes, and thanks for directing my childhood.

And now, two classic scenes from John Hughes movies: