Ferris Bueller, the film character with a quirky style and supercharged suburban joie de vivre, has evolved into an American phenomenon through pop culture, education and commerce. A zeitgeist moment from the 1980s now inspires young people today to be super fans.
With celebrations of the 40th anniversary of “Ferris Bueller’s Day Off” underway this month, I feel fortunate to have witnessed Ferris’ character take shape firsthand.
In 1983, as a recent college graduate with a degree in architecture, I posted my meager résumé on the bulletin board of the American Institute of Architects in Chicago. Unexpectedly, I was hired to help design sets for a TV show in Chicago. So much for architecture!
Out of the blue, I got a call from a guy named John Hughes. He had a vision to write and direct not one, not two, but three movies — in Chicago.
The not-yet-legendary John arrived at my apartment driveway in a worn-out imported car and bare feet. We cruised along Lake Shore Drive and talked about our love of Chicago. He’d gone to high school in the Chicago suburb of Northbrook, weirdly the “speed skating capital of the world,” where I competed as a kid on the ice. Northbrook would be inspiration for so many of his scripts to come.
Then just like that, John hired me.
I worked on his team for “Sixteen Candles” and “The Breakfast Club.” These apprenticeships helped me earn coveted membership in the Directors Guild of America.
John took me on for “Ferris Bueller’s Day Off” as a DGA second assistant director and second unit, second assistant director. I also posed as a drive-by body double for Cindy Pickett — playing Ferris’ mom, Katie Bueller. Still green, I directed background extras, made sure talent was where they were supposed to be, communicated John’s directives to the crew, and made sure union and safety rules were followed. Although I was at the bottom of the hierarchy, I never felt “less than.” All those seconds in my title didn’t mean I was eating leftovers.
John made sure everyone working on his movies felt like somebody at the head table.
His sets were joyous and collaborative. We were young people telling a story about youthful fears and bravado, freedom and possibility, and dread. John was 35, and only six years older than Alan Ruck, who plays Cameron Frye, Ferris’ best friend. I was three years older than Matthew Broderick, who plays Ferris. Mia Sara, who portrays Ferris’ girlfriend Sloane, was just 18.
The few adult characters in the film are gullible or bumbling. Young people called the shots — in the movie and on the set.
John understood the young people around him better than we knew ourselves. His superpower was insight into the teenage mind. John wanted Ferris to look directly into the lens and address the audience. Known as breaking the fourth wall, few directors pull it off successfully. I think it’s key to the way “Ferris Bueller’s Day Off” connects with us.
We shot the parade scene featuring the trio of teens over two consecutive Saturdays. The first day, we embedded ourselves into the German American Von Steuben Day Parade. I dressed as a street cleaner in white overalls to blend in.
The following Saturday, we built sound towers that blasted The Beatles’ “Twist and Shout” along the parade route on Dearborn Street from Wacker Drive to Congress Parkway. We advertised that we were giving away free hot dogs. More than 5,000 extras turned out.
On rare occasions, the alchemy of moviemaking does make gold, or better yet, a “Ferris Bueller’s Day Off.”
We knew the movie would be funny and heartwarming, a love letter to Chicago. We didn’t know what the pieces of footage would look like until they were assembled by John and the editors. What’s astonishing to me is that 40 years later, the film resonates with new audiences.
Each time I see it, I realize that while making the film, I was in the middle of my own coming-of-age story.
When “Ferris Bueller’s Day Off” opened in the summer of 1986, critics Gene Siskel and Roger Ebert reviewed it on their show “At the Movies.” Siskel panned it, but Ebert gave it an enthusiastic thumbs-up. The film was a smash hit, taking in more than $70 million at the box office.
After John died of a heart attack at age 59, the Academy Awards staged a tribute to him, which included a clip of Ferris looking at the camera, at us, and saying these lines John wrote: “Life moves pretty fast. If you don’t stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.”
Of all the scripts I worked on, I saved only the one from “Ferris Bueller’s Day Off,” along with my parade route maps, call sheets and scribbled notes. They bring me joy still, as does the note Matthew wrote when we wrapped the film. “For Linnea, I will miss you the most. You’re a very hard worker and good at what you do. Take care, Love, Matthew.”
I still hear Ferris’ voice when I read it.
Linnea Wicklund, a Chicago native, was an assistant director on “Ferris Bueller’s Day Off.”
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