That snobbery is a two-way street, that it is just as pernicious either way, that even the occasional "richie" is blessed with a speck of decency — these are worthwhile lessons. But the assumption in John Hughes's screenplay is that any lesson worth teaching doesn't need to be taught well. Or maybe it's that any lesson taught to teenagers doesn't. In any case subtlety has been dispensed with. Molly Ringwald is the girl from the wrong side of the tracks, but possessed of tons of style, self-esteem, humility, tolerance, daughterly devotion, etc., etc. Despite all that, she (Ringwald, not the character per se) frequently seems quite human. Jon Cryer is not so fortunate in what might be called the Anthony Michael Hall role, otherwise known as comic relief, court jester, class clown, etc., who loves the heroine secretly but devoutly. He does seem ideal for her in the sense that they both appear to have wads of dental cotton tucked inside their cheeks, although any offspring of theirs would thus be sure to grow up to look like Marlon Brando in The Godfather. Andrew McCarthy, as the decency-specked rich kid, is not so perfect a match physically, but he shows himself sympathetic to the stuffed-cheek motif by purchasing a record album by Steve Lawrence. With Harry Dean Stanton and Annie Potts; directed by Howard Deutch. (1986) — Duncan Shepherd