John Hughes is gone, John Candy's gone, Macaulay Culkin's innocence is gone; because of its place on the precipice of Hughes's»90s decline, revisiting Uncle Buck has long been a bittersweet prospect, but now that it's definitively the last good John Hughes film, it's taken on the funereal feeling of
old home movies starring dead relatives.
The
movie stars Harris Dickinson as a Brooklyn teen with a grim
home life, a budding romance with a female friend and a predilection for meeting up with
older men he connects with online.
It was just like in the
old days, when art
stars like Kehinde Wiley were opening shows and crowds spilled onto the street — except now, everyone was angling to get in to check out the
movie props and costumes made at
home by the six Angulo brothers, who, until Crystal Moselle's recent documentary The Wolfpack, were unknowns in the most extreme sense: For most of their lives, Bhagavan, Govinda, Narayana, Mukunda, Krsna and Jagadisa Angulo were held captive in their Lower East Side apartment by a megalomaniac patriarch.