Pondering the reasons behind Deutch’s cast changes, Corman suggests that “one of the big imprints a director can make is choosing his own cast. I’m sure Howie wanted to put his own hand on it, to say, ‘This is how I see the characters.’” Kyle MacLachlan’s role of the snobby Hardy Jenns was filled by Craig Sheffer, a hunky actor who had been the live-in boyfriend of Andie MacDowell. Also coming on board was Canadian Elias Koteas as a lovable ruffian who meets Keith in detention and helps him orchestrate his date with Amanda. Sheffer and Koteas had both been suggestions of Masterson’s, who, because of her shooting schedule with Coppola, had spent only a few days with Coolidge before Deutch came back to the helm. The cast was rounded out by Candace Cameron, later of Full House fame, who would play one of Stoltz’s younger siblings.
The dark, somber script that Coolidge had been working with until she was fired, and which awaited Deutch his second time at bat, seemed to come somewhat as a shock to him. “I came back and John had rewritten the script,” recalls Deutch. “I was like, that’s not the script! It was good, but different. It was not as funny, not as much of a comedy.” Upon Deutch’s return, the film once again experienced significant tone changes. More and more rewrites were done, until eventually, says Jon Cryer, “it basically became Pretty in Pink again.” Understandably, the film’s schizophrenic development process confused the actors. “Everything was, is it the new way or the old way?” remembers Maddie Corman. “And it was tough.”
The film’s lighter, post-Coolidge tone was particularly dissatisfying for Eric Stoltz, who had recently received a Golden Globe nomination in a critically acclaimed Peter Bogdanovich movie and was looking to continue doing more serious work (as Coolidge’s project would likely have been), not a lighthearted teen romp. “I think Eric was uncomfortable,” says Masterson, “and I think it was because he was developing his character one way, and then Howie came in and was like, ‘We’re going a different direction.’ And it wasn’t what Eric signed on to do…Eric liked this more realistic, darker kind of place. ‘Darker’ is a general word, but maybe it’s sort of, more hyper-real than the John Hughes aesthetic.” Stoltz, Masterson believes, “was just thrown by the whole situation. He really cared for Martha and had bonded with her. It wasn’t that he didn’t like Howie; it was just that it was a different thing.” The cast had real difficulty transitioning to Deutch and to the film’s new feel. “[It was] horrible,” says Stoltz. “Howie Deutch felt like he was given a large group of people who were resentful right off the bat, which is true. We felt like we had been sort of dealt an odd hand.”
But one cast member in particular, Masterson, had a kind of soothing power, and the ability to calm the turbulent emotions that had become the hallmark of the production. When she rejoined the Wonderful set sometime after Deutch’s return, it made a huge difference in the group morale. “It was very tense and very strange,” says Corman, “but then when Mary Stuart came in, she was like an angel from Heaven. Eric loved her. Howie loved her. Everybody was so happy with her, and she was such a positive presence.” (As serious as the problems on the Wonderful set were, Masterson was coming from a more tragic set: during the shooting of Gardens of Stone, Coppola’s son, Gian-Carlo, was killed in a boating accident.)
Soon enough, Wonderful’s tension would be ameliorated by yet another positive female presence. Deutch was having trouble finding an actress to replace the fired Kim Delaney in the Amanda Jones role, and ironically the solution to Deutch’s dilemma would be helped along by Eric Stoltz, the actor he’d been butting heads with. Deutch asked Stoltz if he knew Lea Thompson. “Yeah, of course,” Stoltz responded. The two had been friends from working together on two movies: Back to the Future and The Wild Life, Cameron Crowe’s disappointing screenwriting follow-up to Fast Times at Ridgemont High. Stoltz remembers Deutch asking him, “‘Can you get her a script?’ And I said sure.” Thompson lived high up in the Hollywood Hills, so Stoltz got on his motorcycle and “scooted this script up to her.”
The much-hyped, big-budget, George Lucas–produced movie that Thompson starred in and that was supposed to launch her into a new level of superstardom had been released earlier that weekend. It was called Howard the Duck. The reviews, says Thompson, were “the worst.” She speaks literally—to this day, Duck is considered one of the most infamous flops in Hollywood history. Worse, that was the second Thompson flop to have been released that summer. (The first, SpaceCamp, was in the unfortunate position of being released a few months after the Challenger tragedy.) Understandably, on that day that Eric Stoltz came up Laurel Canyon to visit Lea Thompson at home, the actress was quite upset. Seemingly overnight, she had gone from a nearly A-list actress destined for great stardom, to a frightened young woman whose current vehicle was the laughingstock of the movie industry. “I was shivering in my house,” says Thompson. “It was horrible.”
Suddenly, the offer to costar in Some Kind of Wonderful didn’t seem so bad. Upon arriving at Thompson’s house, Stoltz greeted his dear friend with a pet name—“He used to call me ‘Squeela,’” says Thompson, giddy at the memory, “and he handed me the script. He said, ‘Howie Deutch must have some kind of crush on you or something, but you have to do this part for him.’” Time was of the essence: filming of Some Kind of Wonderful was to start in a week. Thompson read the script that very weekend, and signed on for the role. Deutch felt great relief at finally securing an actress who was a perfect fit for the character. “I did see utter joy and delight,” recalls Corman, “when Howie, at dinner one night, introduced Lea to us and said, ‘Now let me introduce our Amanda Jones.’ She was adorable.”
And Thompson now admits, she was actually quite relieved to finally be working in a John Hughes movie. “I think I honestly felt, like, left out of it,” she says, “because I had probably auditioned for all of them. I’m sure my name came up, because I was really hot then. I mean, Back to the Future—I was a big movie star. And so I probably felt a little bit left out of that crowd. I was happy to be in a movie with John.”
With the new cast finally in place, Deutch could begin filming. But the first day of shooting was particularly difficult for Thompson: “I was so freaked out because Howard the Duck was such a brutal bloodbath,” she remembers. “I was so afraid to even look the crew in the eyes. I cried the first day. I was like, ‘I don’t know how to act.’ I just felt so vulnerable and beaten.” But she knew that it was essential she get back to work—and soon. “In a way,” she says, “it was like getting on a bicycle after you fall down.”
Some Kind of Wonderful shot all over the Los Angeles area. “We were at the Hollywood Bowl,” recalls Thompson, “we were down in Long Beach.” But unfortunately, and unsurprisingly, considering the troubles of the production, much of what was filmed in the beginning of the shoot would have to be scrapped. “I had grown my hair,” says Stoltz, “because the character was written as an outsider who wasn’t stylish or handsome, necessarily. So I grew my hair, and we shot for a few weeks, and then the note came either from John Hughes or from Paramount that we needed to make the character more attractive, even though it was meant to be an outsider.” Filming was shut down and the previously shot scenes discarded. They were reshot with Stoltz sporting the new look. “They gave my hair a little style,” says Stoltz, “and used more makeup.” In fact, the makeup department got kind of carried away with Stoltz—he’s wearing noticeable eye makeup and blush throughout the movie. “Every time I see it, I’m like, they should’ve backed off on that,” Thompson says, laughing.
Regardless of Stoltz’s strong resistance to Keith’s new image, and in spite of the makeup department’s slap-happy use of eyeliner on the actor, Eric Stoltz’s resulting look was one of almost otherworldly handsomeness. This new Stoltz, a hauntingly beautiful young man with auburn hair, a dramatically angled face, and soulful, electric-bright green eyes, looked at once modern—an edgy eighties teen, and timeless—a young Viking prince.
On the set, Howard Deutch was once again honing an intricate s
kill that he had begun learning on Pretty in Pink: the delicate art of directing a movie written and produced by John Hughes. Although Deutch gave Pretty in Pink and Some Kind of Wonderful an artistic essence that was all his own, he was definitely part of a true creative team with Hughes. Indeed, sometimes Deutch didn’t receive proper acknowledgment. (The New York Times once wrote that the fact that John Hughes didn’t direct Some Kind of Wonderful was “almost beside the point.”) But what Deutch and Hughes had together was a true collaboration: they understood each other’s needs, and they were partners in the journey of filmmaking. Lea Thompson remembers the relationship between Deutch and Hughes: “Howie loved to consult John, and try to figure out what exactly he wanted from things.” There was also a genuine affection between the two men: “You could tell that [Hughes] loved Howie,” says Corman. The feelings were reciprocal: “Howie loved John,” says Thompson. “And from John, he got the love of writers that a lot of directors don’t have.”
Hughes clearly trusted Deutch, because he was rarely on set. Deutch would call him frequently, but Hughes was back in Chicago, working on two other movies he would have coming out in 1987. (As Stoltz suggests, “I think after the rough beginning we all had, he probably went back and wrote something else.”)
“When he did visit the set, Corman recalls, Hughes “was a celebrity. Everybody got excited.” This was Hollywood, after all, and Hughes was one of the bigger filmmakers in town, so a visit from him was a big deal—it reminded everybody that they were in a John Hughes movie. “He was a very powerful guy, you could feel how powerful he was,” says Corman, but the adolescent qualities of Hughes still shone through. “He was like a big kid. He had really big, high hair, and he was really silly and sweet. He was a very positive presence.”
But sometimes, his presence was an intimidating one. “I remember that [Hughes] came up to my costume handbag that I was carrying on the set,” says Thompson, “and he gently took my handbag and opened it up, and started looking in it to see if there was paper in there, or the real thing.” Luckily, Thompson had filled the purse with what her character would have. “I passed the test—I was like, phew. I was so happy that I had been ‘Method’ enough to have the normal stuff in there, like it was a real handbag. We took our work seriously. And believe me, from then on, I always have real things in my handbag.”
Away from the set, Hughes was busy overseeing the making of the Some Kind of Wonderful soundtrack. He had so keen an ear for music, and so proven an ability to turn obscure British bands into hit machines, that MCA gave him his own label, Hughes Music, in a contract that allowed him to sign at least one artist per soundtrack album. (The Wonderful soundtrack was the first album released under his new label.) The label’s music operations chief was Tarquin Gotch (who’d done the music for Ferris Bueller), and the soundtrack was produced by Stephen Hague. Sadly, Hughes Music would later fizzle out as Hughes started making different types of films, but at the time, he hoped to use the label as a way to give a platform to unknown musicians. “American radio is unbelievably stagnant right now,” Hughes said. “Since the market here is so tough to break, we see our label as an alternative voice for young bands. It’s a way to invade the charts with stuff that’s not supposed to be there.” The Wonderful soundtrack would feature a mix of artists, including The Jesus and Mary Chain, Flesh for Lulu, and The March Violets.
These were busy days, and Deutch was facing all the standard-issue pressures of timing and budget that any director does, but, perhaps thankful that he had gotten the gig back, he was often in a good mood. Especially around Lea Thompson. “Everybody had a crush on her,” says Deutch. “She was like the pinup girl, after Back to the Future. She was, and is, hot.”
Any director strives to make his cast look good, but in certain shots, Deutch’s admiration of Thompson seemed particularly obvious. There is, for example, an extremely sensual glimpse of Amanda Jones stretching in the girls’ locker room, clad in bikini underwear and a tank top that revealed her sculpted, graceful torso. (It was quite apparent that Thompson had been a professional dancer.) “People love that shot of me,” Thompson admits. “It’s so funny because, you know, I had small breasts and I’m really basically covered up,” she says modestly.
In the version of the script that ended up making it to the screen, Stoltz’s character, Keith, does indeed still take Amanda Jones on the date of a lifetime, and although the Blue Angels don’t fly overhead, it is a spectacular evening nonetheless. In the emotional crux of the night, Keith, an extremely talented young painter who, against his father’s wishes, hopes one day to go to art school, leads Amanda through the halls of an otherwise empty museum. Keith had hatched the plan along with his school friend, the rebellious Duncan (Elias Koteas), whose father works as a security guard at the museum. “This is my church,” Keith tells Amanda as they walk through the galleries. It was yet another instance of John Hughes imbuing a script with meaningful elements of his own young life, in this case, the deep love of painting he felt as a teen.
After wandering through the museum together, Keith and Amanda go to a room where, lit beautifully and showcased on a wall all its own, is a portrait of her that he has painted. The portrait captures Amanda Jones—and, it must be said, Lea Thompson—in a luminous, naturalistic way. Deutch “was obsessed with this painting,” Thompson says. “And it was a big story plot. It was really complicated trying to figure out what image Eric’s character would paint, and what style would he actually paint in. So I think Howie had seven different artists painting pictures of me,” Thompson recalls. Deutch would look at a painting and shout, “That’s not her! That’s not her!” Thompson remembers. “And they were all really different. There were all these paintings and they were all lined up on the soundstage, and Howie kept saying, ‘No, it’s not good enough!’” Deutch hired more and more artists to paint her portrait. “They must’ve spent forty thousand dollars on those paintings,” says Thompson. If the sexy locker room shot had captured Amanda Jones (and thus Lea Thompson) as an object of desire, this portrait Deutch obsessed over was, it seemed, meant to capture her as an object of true love.
While Deutch was busy searching for the right painting of Amanda Jones, Thompson was busy tackling the character dramatically. Over the course of the many script changes, Amanda had become a more layered character than the one Thompson had originally declined to portray. “They made her more and more complicated,” says Thompson, “and I liked that.” In the shooting script that made it to the screen, Jones is a poor girl whose charm and sex appeal have granted her a place in the upper echelons of the high-school popularity system. Her boyfriend (the type of guy who would get along great with James Spader in Pretty in Pink) paws at her with an air of sexual entitlement. Amanda is studious and kindhearted, but she’s flawed enough to find the fruits of popularity irresistible, even though she knows the cool kids she hangs with are jerks. (It’s a dilemma similar to the one faced by Molly Ringwald’s princess in The Breakfast Club.)
Though Keith doesn’t know Amanda at all, as theirs is one of those gigantic public schools in which you don’t speak to the majority of your classmates, he’s drawn to her beauty, and his inner chivalry is aroused by a desire to save her from the hands of the jerky Hardy Jenns. When Keith asks Amanda out on a date, the school is aflutter in gossip because an “untouchable” has snagged a popular babe, but Amanda agrees to go out with him only as a way of getting back at Hardy for mistreating her. Over the course of the story, though, Amanda sees Keith for the admirable young man he is: strong, brave, and unwavering in his beliefs. Despite his well-meaning father’s insistence that he attend a traditional college and become “the first person in our family who doesn’t have to wash his hands after a day’s work,” Keith wants to become an artist, and in a world of teenage poseurs, he is his own person. That’s a rare, powerfully alluring quality to possess in high school, and Amanda’s feigned affection for him slowly becomes real.
Some Kind of Wonderful, says its star Mary Stu
art Masterson, taught its young viewers “that friendship can be sexy—that a long-term partnership is built on respect and humor as much as it is lust.” The movie, which encourages male sensitivity and portrays a woman-hating character (Hardy Jenns) as a monster, also taught some important lessons about kindness, says its costar Lea Thompson. “Some men have told me that it actually made them better people.”
Meanwhile, as Keith swoons for Amanda, he’s oblivious to the deep, true, organic love that his best friend, the tomboy Watts (Masterson), has felt for him all along. Watts is from a troubled home—not necessarily a broken home, but perhaps one in which, like Ally Sheedy’s in The Breakfast Club, she is simply ignored. When Keith asks Watts why she eats dinner with him every night, she replies, “Because I don’t like to eat alone.” Because of her short hair, masculine clothes, lack of boyfriend, and rebellious attitude toward social norms, kids at school assume she’s a lesbian. Keith knows that assumption to be false, but still, Watts’s defensive machismo ensures their relationship remains strictly platonic—a defense she puts up, ironically, to hide the searing love she harbors for him.
For Mary Stuart Masterson, who had grown up in an artistic family in Manhattan and had attended private school, getting into the emotional world of Some Kind of Wonderful’s fictional high school was a challenge. “Kids I went to school with had charge cards at Bergdorf’s,” she says. “They were very sophisticated. They wore woolen slacks and Italian tailored suits and they were like their mothers. So,” she explains, “the whole idea of, like, the ‘typical’ American high school or cheerleaders or football teams or any of that was completely foreign to me anyway. What Watts was rebelling against, in some ways, wasn’t even something that was part of my world.”
One of Masterson’s ways to get into the role of Watts was a very physical one. So important to Watts is drumming that she tells Keith, “The only things I care about in this goddamn life, are me, and my drums, and you,” and when she insists to him, pleadingly, that Amanda Jones’s feelings for him are false, Watts fiercely adds, “I’d bet my hands on it.”
You Couldn't Ignore Me If You Tried: The Brat Pack, John Hughes, and Their Impact on a Generation Page 28