First of all, no one read the stupid article and knew whether it was being critical of the kid actors. This was before the internet so an article in New York Magazine wasn't read nationwide. The name stuck as it was easy to remember because it plagiarized the other pack. The article (I just read it for the first time a minute ago) is total crap and if it weren't for the name he coined, no one would have ever spoken of those few thousand words again. It was nothing more or less than a hatchet job by a journalist who probably wanted to sleep with one of them.
It's ironic that the one I despised the most in this group as an actor and the one with the most punchable face, Andrew McCarthy, has had an interesting career lately as a travel writer and now this film. I haven't read anything he's written so I'm beginning with his memoir of walking the Camino de Santiago with his son.
Nothing much of anything is revealed in this film. Once upon a time there was an article written that coined the name. The supposed members of this Brat Pack, young actors, made a bunch of films dealing with young people. There was never much to this story and thus not much more can be said about it all these years later.
The film itself is awkward at times with way too much time inside of a car, too many shots of the film crew lurking around in the background, and there wasn't much at all of what their lives were like 40 years ago.
The strangest thing I learned from the film was that none of them were even friends and haven't had any contact with each other in all these years. It just seems like they'd at least call once in a while to comment on a recent project they had finished, either to compliment each other or ask if they knew about it. In the end, they weren't any sort of pack at all.
