“How could I possibly be expected to handle school on a day like this?”
“It’s a little childish and stupid. But then, so is high school.”
“I do have a test today. That wasn’t bull____. It’s on European socialism. I mean, really, what’s the point? I’m not European. I don’t plan on being European. So who gives a crap if they’re socialists. They could be fascist anarchists. It still wouldn’t change the fact that I don’t own a car.”
The desire simply to recite this entire scene verbatim is overwhelming. (And many 30-somethings probably could.) It’s a two-minute jolt of youthful adrenaline: Matthew Broderick’s direct address to the audience, the subtitled guide to faking your way into a sick day, the sound track’s chugging new wave song and then the classroom, the empty desk and the teacher droning, “Bueller? Bueller? Bueller? Bueller?” The pacing is perfect, and rarely has a last name been deployed so unforgettably.