I’m going with a continuation of yesterday’s Bloggery, because the death of John Hughes has hit my generation very hard, and on the day after we’re getting more lists and more memories, including one particularly popular eulogy from the filmmaker’s pen pal, which is shedding some light onto Hughes’ reasons for leaving Hollywood.

One thing that I’m finding interesting about the reactions to Hughes’ death is that he’s yet another example of how, as David Poland wrote back in June, “death is the ultimate disinfectant.” Not that many people stopped loving his ’80s teen movies after the man stopped directing, but the world didn’t quite respect him as much after he focused on writing and producing such family fare as Baby’s Day Out, the Beethoven movies and some unnecessary remakes for Disney.

Hughes’ death may not be the huge media story that Michael Jackson’s was, but given his contribution toward the definition of the ’80s, his decline in the ’90s and his association with Macauley Culkin, it’s not a huge stretch for all those “first MJ, now…” comments going around. When you think of ’80s music, you likely think of MJ. Likewise, when you think of ’80s movies, you think of JH. At least we still have the most important ’80s TV icon. But we might want to say our prayers for Bill Cosby…

Check out the further tributes and such from the film blogosphere after the jump:

• Alison Byrnes Fields at We’ll Know When We Get There is getting a lot of attention today for sharing her experience as Hughes’ pen pal. Included in the eulogy is the following revelation:
  

  John told me about why he left Hollywood just a few years earlier. He was terrified of the impact it was having on his sons; he was scared it was going to cause them to lose perspective on what was important and what happiness meant. And he told me a sad story about how, a big reason behind his decision to give it all up was that “they” (Hollywood) had “killed” his friend, John Candy, by greedily working him too hard.

• Jeff Wells at Hollywood Elsewhere responds by doubting the Candy claim:
  

  In other words, Candy’s death at age 43 from a heart attack and cardiac arrythmia wasn’t, in Hughes’ opinion, primarily due to his being severely overweight and having been a smoker most of his life. In fact, Hughes believed that Candy might well have survived if Hollywood hadn’t maliciously forced him to constantly perform as the star of various movies, for which he was presumably well paid.

  That’s interesting. I never knew that. But this is what genius-level auteurs do — they create their own worlds by investing in them whole-hog.

• Merrick at Ain’t It Cool News thinks Alison’s story is the best remembrance of Hughes ever and that it could be a movie:
  

  a very touching story which, in itself, sounds like it could be a John Hughes film. It’s about how Hughes’ work irrevocably touched one girl’s life, and how his protracted correspondence with her helped shape the person she is today.

• Lane Brown at Vulture also recommends Alison’s eulogy over everything else out there:
  

  The blogosphere is full of John Hughes tributes and remembrances today, but if you’ve somehow managed to miss this one, we’d highly recommend you quit what you’re doing and read it immediately.

• S.T. VanAirsdale at Movieline wonders if it was ok for Alison to share so much:
  

  if it was his wish to disappear — for the sake of avenging a man’s death and to be a better father (if we take Hughes at face value, and I do) — then should Fields have made their correspondence public in the first place? His myth gets a nice posthumous polish, but there’s something about “doing this for Alison” that seems to guarantee we haven’t actually heard, seen or read the last of John Hughes.

• Richard Rushfield at Defamer shares a very different kind of inspirational encounter with Hughes:
  

  We were just diving into the “Twist and Shout” sequence when we glanced over at the next table. Two children looked at us, their eyes pools of sadness deep as infinite space itself. Across the table, their parents gaped at us, their faces frozen in horror and rage, as though saying, What kind of monsters are you? The neighboring tables, too, glared with hatred.

  On closer inspection, taking a third look, perhaps, we realized, it was maybe John Hughes.

  And at that moment I became a writer.

• Jonathan Mussman at MTV Movies Blog has another personal story about the fortunes of growing up in Hughes territory:
  

  Prior to the filming of “The Breakfast Club,” John sent most of his actors to live among the characters they were portraying. As a freshman, I remember standing in the Student Activities office working on a project when all of a sudden Emilio Estevez came running through to seek refuge from a gaggle of screaming girls.

  It was apparently day three of his “character observation” that he was outed in the weightlifting room, after someone recognized him from his one film: “Repo Man.” Moments later I recall seeing Judd Nelson being escorted down another hallway to Dr. Duffy’s office, our beloved Dean of Students, to be reprimanded for acting out in shop class.

• David Edelstein at The Projectionist wonders if he missed out on something:
  

  I was in my early twenties when Sixteen Candles opened, and I’ve always wondered if my adolescence would have been different somehow if I’d seen The Breakfast Club as a young nerd instead of one whose personality was already—for better or worse—formed. Instead, I often found his films difficult to watch. I didn’t buy the relationships, and I couldn’t get past the self-pity and anger. But I did realize, more and more, how wrong I was in thinking Hughes—with his plundering of pop hits and self-conscious use of teen slang—pandered to the youth market. His vision was consistent, his movies of a piece. He was a very personal commercial director.

• Daniel J. Flynn at Big Hollywood wonders if the ’80s would have existed without Hughes:
  

  No John Hughes, no Molly Ringwald; no Molly Ringwald, no 1980s–it’s pretty simple. But when the 1980s ended, so did John Hughes. He hadn’t directed a movie since 1991, and his work as a screenwriter since his golden age had been spotty. Proof that John Hughes will be missed in death comes from the fact that John Hughes was so missed for the last two decades of his life.

• Steven Zeitchik at Risky Biz Blog addresses the MJ comparison:
  

  Like the Jackson death, the hoopla over Hughes’ passing may have confounded some older people and bored some younger ones. But both men, pretty much more than any other, helped form our earliest pop-cultural memories, and often intensely personal ones at that. Unlike the Gloved One, of course, most fans’ relationship was never to the man himself; many of us wouldn’t recognize Hughes if we were stuck in an elevator with him. We recognized the people he created, though, and in a weird way that strengthened our relationship with him, made the feelings his death aroused that much more pointed.

• Dan Hopper and Michelle Collins at Best Week Ever share their favorite Hughes movie scenes, neither of which is from a teen movie or a kid flick:
  

  Michelle and I discussed this topic for a while yesterday, and after some difficult deliberation — and counting Hughes’ super-iconic moments like the Ferris Bueller ending or the Home Alone burglar stuff (my favorite thing ever until age, like 20) as givens — I’ve always been partial to Steve Martin’s extremely random F-word tirade in Planes, Trains and Automobiles.

  It’s not one of Hughes’ greatest movies, but this one scene just taps into a level of cathartic frustration-release we’ve all dreamed of before, plus the fact that this scene is just randomly in the middle of an otherwise extremely-clean family-ish film is just awesome in itself

• Matt Zoller Seitz at The House Next Door offers some terrific insight into Hughes’ work, especially as far as Ferris Bueller’s Day Off is concerned:
  

  the first time I saw the movie, I was immediately struck by how Hughes dared to build its emotional climax around tightly-wound best buddy Cameron (John Ruck) confessing his idolization and resentment of his rich daddy, then lashing out against him by destroying the old man’s car. The scene went on and on, like an outtake from Rebel Without a Cause dropped into the middle of a Bugs Bunny cartoon. But it wasn’t so much excessive as uncomfortably genuine; the young man’s pain was real, and by showing it, Hughes subtly acknowledged that the rest of what he’d shown us was pure escapism—and that by seeking out such entertainment, we were trying to avoid thinking about our own miseries, which might not be identical to Cameron’s in all the details, but were every bit as intense and alienating.

• Violet Glaze at Film Threat’s Writer’s Corner also references Rebel Without a Cause:
  

  Ferris Bueller was misunderstood, just like Jim Stark. But unlike Jim Stark, it didn’t concern him in the least. Ferris Bueller understood, on a deep and omnipotent level that eluded even the adults around him. He understood that high school - and youth, and the Zen perfection of the “day off” — were fleeting and elusive, and that to spend a day coaxing his reluctant friend Cameron out of his shell was well worth more than a detention slip. When the kids in most movies cut school, they sniff glue and suck face. Ferris takes his friends on an elucidary field trip to the stock exchange, the art museum, and a restaurant where they eat pancreas for the first time. He has imagination, wit, verve, charm, a sage’s sense of the big picture, and a mentor’s agape love to spell it out in joyous and unexpected ways for those who don’t see the light at the end of the tunnel. In short, Ferris is John Hughes, and watching his movies are everyone’s Day Off.

• More from Jeff Wells: a celebration of his pre-film literary work:
  

  “I wrote the first sentence — ‘If Dad hadn’t shot Walt Disney in the leg, it would have been our best vacation ever!’ — and the rest was automatic,” recalls John Hughes in a piece about the writing of “Vacation ‘58,” which became National Lampoon’s Family Vacation. I’ve always loved Hughes’ original story; I never liked the film all that much.

• Terri Schwartz at MTV Movies Blog takes a look at Hughes’ influence on pop culture, including on the dialogue of Kevin Smith, who wasn’t shy about his love or hate for different Hughes works:
  

  Few have loved to reference Hughes’ work as much as Kevin Smith. In “Dogma”…Salma Hayek’s Serendipty, an Earthbound muse, says she is responsible for every movie in the top 20 highest grossing films, except for “Home Alone,” which she said she had nothing to do with. She actually gets a bit more graphic than that, but I’ve cleaned it up a bit. Clearly, Smith didn’t love all of Hughes’ works.

• Schwartz also takes a look at sequels (and remakes) of Hughes’ classics that might have been. Here’s the only one we’re hoping doesn’t really happen:
  

  Another Uncle Buck

  Few would say Dan Fogler is anywhere near an adequate replacement for comedy icon John Candy. Someone thought he’d be pretty darn close though. In May of this year it was announced that Fogler was being considered to star in a remake of the 1989 classic, “Uncle Buck.” Robert Ben Garant, who worked on “Balls of Fury” with Fogler, might direct the project. If it ever makes it past the rumor mill, that is.

• Sarah Ball at Newsweek’s Pop Vox looks at ten actors who apparently owe their careers to Hughes. Most aren’t valid, but I never would have thought of this guy:
  

  Steve Carell. The Office star’s first ever big-screen role was in 1991’s Curly Sue, written and directed by Hughes. The comedian wouldn’t fully break out in movies for another 12 years, when he was cast as Evan Baxter in the Jim Carrey starrer Bruce Almighty. But these days, Carell has a Golden Globe and an Emmy-winning show, and he’s one of the most popular faces in comedy.

• Dustin Rowles at Pajiba found the trailer for an unreleased documentary about Hughes:
  

  And in an effort to extend the feel goodery well into the afternoon, here’s a little more John Hughes love, a trailer Don’t You Forget About Me, for an as-yet-unreleased documentary on John Hughes, which provides a fairly perfect obituary for the man. I don’t know when it’s coming out, although I suspect it’ll be fast-tracked in the wake of Hughes’ death.It features interviews with all your favorite Hughes actors (Sheedy, Ringwald, McCarthy, Nelson, Mia Sara, Alan Ruck, and even Kevin Smith), and it looks absolutely splendid. And kind of heart-warmy:

Finally, here’s a favorite montage that’s been posted around the web: