Was Ferris Bueller Really All THAT Bad?
A Response to Some Particularly Harsh Criticisms of Ferris Bueller

I’ll be candid for a moment: I love Ferris Bueller’s Day Off. It was actually the first of John Hughes’s work that instilled my appreciation for the eye he had as a director. (Other than Baby’s Day Out, [similarities in titles much?], a movie I watched my entire life and didn’t realize he directed until I was well into adulthood). I love the film’s aesthetic, its characters, the way in which the cast perfectly emulates the auras of said characters, and the nostalgic 80’s vibe that is so endearingly prevalent in many of Hughes’s films. I was born in 1990, and while I loved everything about growing up as a 90’s baby, I have always wished I could have experienced the 80’s. Everything from the music to the style of that decade is fascinating to me, and so I’ve made a point to live vicariously through anything remotely reminiscent of it. This makes me an automatic fan of Hughes’s work, seeing as so many of his films take place smack-dab in the middle of my dream decade.

That being said, the aforementioned aspects are ultimately topical in nature movie-wise. Sure, they’re relative to an extent, (if you don’t like John Hughes films, then you probably wouldn’t enjoy these aspects anyway), but they’re no doubt intended for the entire audience to appreciate. Aesthetics and vibes are relatively easy targets to hit for directors like Hughes, whose particular styles and tastes aided in naturally bringing details like that together. A target that can be admittedly more difficult, however, is successfully conveying the hidden messages that are so often built into the foundations of films. Making them obvious enough to grasp, yet discreet enough to not overtake all else can be a hell of a task. Like all great movies, Ferris Bueller’s Day Off wasn’t meant to be taken at face value. Viscerally, Hughes left slightly more up to interpretation, intentionally I’m sure.
Needless to say, this is where the real difference of opinion tends to come to light; upon realizing what we perceive to be the overall message of a film, it’s usually at this point when we decide if it coincides with our own values or not. As in, would we watch it again, or nah?
Now, here’s the thing. I understand where Lauren, the author of this article, was coming from. Likewise, I comprehend the point made by Alan, the author of this one as well. As Lauren pointed out, isn’t Ferris kind of a self-absorbed jerk who’s more of a bully than a friend toward Cameron, his supposed best mate since elementary school? And Alan poses a legitimate question as well: What’s really so relatable about Ferris, anyway? He’s clearly wealthy, while simultaneously endowed with some kind of innate and magical good-luck charm, which doesn’t make him relatable so much as fantastical.
The reason I found these critiques so relevant is because I have wondered about them myself, and so had momentarily questioned why I enjoyed this movie so much in the first place. Upon taking a deep-dive into my subconscious and comparing the results to what I personally feel Hughes was trying to convey, I was able to find a satisfactory answer to each of these questions.
I’ll address Alan’s question first, because it’s the easiest to express.
Ferris isn’t meant to be relatable.
When I watch this movie, I find myself thinking something along the lines of “Man, I wish I was like Ferris” no less than once, but usually more; I have no problem believing this is exactly what Hughes wanted me to think.
Ferris is supposed to be everything that everyone else is not. He’s supposed to be the embodiment of the traits that so many of us deeply desire; serendipitous spontaneity, untroubled by worldly obligations, and the ability to “do anything”, as Cameron explained it; indeed it seems “fantastical” is an ideal word to describe him. In fact, the conversation between Cameron and Sloane as Ferris is hi-jacking a float in Chicago’s annual Von Steuben Day Parade (who does that?!) is a prime example of what I mean.
“You know, as long as I’ve known him, everything works for him. There’s nothing he can’t handle…”

In this scene, Cameron expresses an admiration for Ferris’s knack for success that is meant to be somewhat of a #MeToo moment for everyone watching the film. And to me, there’s two reasons why Hughes included this dialogue specifically for Cameron’s character.
1.) Ferris’s and Cameron’s personalities are polar opposites; two extremes on the same scale. I’m sure it’s not a stretch to assume that most people actually find Cameron more relatable. Again, I think this is the point; our relatability to his character is meant to highlight how different Ferris is from everyone, not just Cameron. Even Sloane, beautiful and popular in her own right apart from Ferris, seems to find her boyfriend’s persona enigmatic, and his future unpredictable. Hence why Cameron’s off-the-wall “fry-cook on Venus” career for Ferris was so spot-on; I mean really, what viable career is there for an impulsive guy with impeccable luck and a habit of shifting responsibilities to the way-side on exceptionally beautiful days?
2.) I don’t think it escaped Hughes that many people would get the wrong impression of Ferris; I imagine it was difficult to portray the kind of larger-than-life personality he wanted Ferris to radiate without him coming off as a little bit of a self-absorbed jerk, who was more of a bully than a friend to Cameron. Ultimately, his directing and Matthew Broderick’s acting could only do so much; the rest is up to us to decide what kind of person we think Ferris really is. Cameron’s opinion of Ferris and the dynamic of their friendship is pivotal, and without getting too intricate or mushy, his heart-to-heart with Sloane revealed an appreciation for his best friend that would surely be absent if he thought of him as a self-absorbed jerk-bully.

And of course, I would be remiss in failing to mention everyone’s favorite little asshole.

The other “more-relatable-than-Ferris” character in the film is Jeanie, his brooding and seethingly jealous sister. From the beginning, Jeanie serves as the true reality check for the audience; comparatively speaking, it’s her luck (or lack thereof) that’s more understood by the general population. And by that I mean everyone except Ferris Bueller.
I actually see a lot of myself in Jeanie because I too have a younger sibling who in grade school could do no wrong, while I could never seem to catch a break. The struggle is real.
Maybe not everyone has had this exact experience, but surely there’s been a cousin, a coworker, a childhood friend, someone who you’ve felt this way about at some point in your life. Truthfully, Jeanie is my favorite role in the movie; at any rate, it’s my favorite role I’ve seen Jennifer Gray play… yes, I’d take a brooding and seething Jeanie over a meek and mousy Baby any day. 🤷🏼♂️
Basically, the protagonist of this film is unique from those in others, in that everyone around him, (even ol’ Ed Rooney, to some extent), are intended to be more relatable than the protagonist himself. Which goes right along with the theme of Ferris being in a league all his own.

Now, to address Lauren’s criticisms.
Ferris is actually a very selfless friend; and he inadvertently helped Cameron to take a much-needed step in the direction of loosening his father’s abusive grip on him.
I know #2 in my response to Alan touched on Lauren’s qualms as well. To elaborate on that, let’s think of some words that describe Cameron’s demeanor for all but the last ten-ish minutes that he’s in the movie.
Lethargic.
Upon initially meeting Cameron, the mood is clearly a stark contrast from what we’ve come to expect from Ferris. The morose music in the background and the drapes drawn against the beautiful day set the tone for 95% of Cameron’s air-time.

Pessimistic.
When Ferris implores for “one good reason” why he and Sloane shouldn’t get married, Cameron’s response is one of the most telling signs (to that point) of the damage he’s been dealt as a result of his parent’s failed marriage.

Paranoid.
I always feel for him the hardest in this scene, where instead of admiring the gorgeous view, or even feeling queasy at the sight of the ground so far below, he can think of nothing except getting caught by his dad. Notice how tense his face is compared to those of his comrades. 😞

Even fearful.
It’s clear throughout the movie that Cameron not only hates his dad, he fears him as well. His retainer story eludes to the abuse being more than just mental… or at least that it would become more if Morris discovered their shenanigans had involved his beloved Ferrari.

{Despite being able to procure a diamond from a lump of coal within his rectum, we see Cameron’s personality shine in this iconic scene, which nearly single-handedly made the entire film, in this slapstick comedy-loving gal’s opinion}


At one point, in what seems like a moody moment of weakness, Cameron even accuses Ferris of not caring about the repercussions, and truthfully he can’t be blamed. Although he’s not outwardly malicious in his actions, Ferris has seemingly all but ignored Cameron’s persistent pleas of returning the car, and his warnings about what will happen if they’re caught. And why should Ferris care? The consequences wouldn’t affect him, after all. Right? This is what it seems we’re supposed to think, at least initially. And unless you dig further into the very core of Ferris Bueller, this thought will remain part of what influences your judgement of his character.
Just hear me out on this; consider why Ferris does anything, at all. What drives his everyday actions, including all those which spawned the adventures we witnessed in downtown Chicago. Is it cruel and vindictive heartlessness, or is it a confidence in his ability to literally get away with anything?
Remember: Ferris is a fantastical character. Who’s to say he’s not a self-aware fantastical character? To me, his actions stem more from his knowledge of himself; he knew he could get away with ditching school, and borrowing Morris’s prized Ferrari to cruise around in. And truthfully he would have, if not for the last-minute detour caused by Cameron’s split decision to stand up to his dad.

And why did Cameron make this decision?
Because despite all his mewling and resistance, he enjoyed his day breaking his dad’s biggest rule, and in the process had two (2) eye-opening epiphanies that made him realize he was “tired of being afraid.” In other words, he saw what his life could be like if he were to face his fears. And he had his best friend to thank for that.
And what did Ferris do when the Ferrari crashed through the glass wall of the garage, destroying it completely?
He offered to take the heat for it from Morris instead of Cameron, which means:
1.) He was willing to endure the wrath of Morris Frye in place of his best friend. Why? Because he knew he was the reason the car ended up trashed. It never would have happened if he hadn’t insisted on taking it, and he didn’t want to be the reason Cameron met the very fate he has always feared the most. This shows empathy, and the ability to atone for his own mistakes should the repercussions spread to others. (Or at least to someone he cares about).
2.) Not only would he receive backlash from Morris, his parents would certainly be upset as well. You can only get away with so much, and the degree of this fuck-up would have been over the top for any parent, no matter how much they love their kid.
3.) Taking the heat for this and admitting to his parents that he ditched school would not only render his entire last sick day pointless, but the other eight before that as well. It would corroborate Rooney’s story, and they’d realize they’d been conned by their teenage son on multiple occasions. A lot was at stake for Ferris, including both his angelic appearance with his parents, as well as his graduation.
Although he technically did get off “scott-free”, it wasn’t by choice. It was because Cameron insisted he himself “wanted it.” And if he didn’t want it, he wouldn’t have let Ferris take the car in the first place.
“I could have stopped ya. It is possible to stop Mr. Ferris Bueller, ya know.” — Cameron Frye
This brings us to how Cameron’s demeanor changed in the wake of this decision:

Just look at that satisfaction! That’s not the look of someone we’re supposed to continue to pity, much less of someone who requires keyboard warriors to defend him. If he can face his dad without our help, then he can take on whatever else the world throws at him.
My point is, this is a calm the likes of which Cameron probably never would have felt had he truly not seen “anything good” on what also turned out to be his own (well-deserved) day off. I think we can all rest easy knowing that our favorite lethargic pessimist successfully broke his father’s oppressive spell, and is living his best Cameron-life.
