In most movies, the main character outshines the best friend character in every regard. It’s practically a prerequisite of the roles. The best friend exists on the periphery of the protagonist’s story, only there to provide comic relief and emotional support, like a trusty vessel of good one-liners and unsound life advice. There’s a reason nobody likes Ron Stoppable as much as they do Kim Possible — she’s everything, and he’s just a guy with a pet naked mole-rat.
But I have a soft spot for the best friend character, especially as the unsung heroes of the romcom genre, always ready to knock some sense into their better half. Despite the limited screen time they’re given, I think about Krysten Ritter’s (“Jessica Jones”) eclectic performance in “Confessions of a Shopaholic” about as often as I do Isla Fisher’s (“Now You See Me”). I think about how Judy Greer (“13 Going on 30”) acts as a perfect foil to Katherine Heigl (“Grey’s Anatomy”) in “27 Dresses” or the way Madeleine Arthur’s (“Devil in Ohio”) coolly apathetic Christine complements Lana Condor’s (“Moonshot”) wholesome Lara Jean in “To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before.” They may be no-last-name sidekicks, but they deserve some recognition for playing the role that no one came to see but that wins our hearts every time.
There is one best friend character who surpasses them all, and that’s Cameron (Alan Ruck, “Succession”) in “Ferris Bueller’s Day Off.” Now bear with me because I am well aware that when most people think of that movie, they think of the main character, Ferris (Matthew Broderick, “The Lion King”), not his best friend. Everyone loves Ferris. How could you not? He’s charming but not smarmy and cool but still relatable. From the first scene, he breaks the fourth wall and draws us right in, all sly winks and infectious confidence. Against all odds, he pulls one over the uptight adults and arranges grand adventures for his friends that we can only dream of. Ferris Bueller exists in that league of instantly likable teen superheroes, like Marty McFly or Cher Horowitz. Cameron Frye definitely does not.
But Cameron is one of my favorite characters in any film ever. He’s a great best friend, but he’s so much more than that. At the beginning of the film, he’s so lost as a person, so unsure of himself and his place in the world. It’s unclear why Cameron and Ferris are friends or what purpose he serves the story beyond as a comedic prop in Ferris’s elaborate schemes. We watch him pose as the father of Ferris’ girlfriend, Sloane (Mia Sara, “Legend”), to get her out of school, and let Ferris drive the Ferrari into downtown Chicago, even though he knows it will come at the cost of his father’s rage. We listen to Ferris sprinkle in countless tidbits about Cameron’s unpleasant home life to such a degree that we hear more about Cameron’s family than his own. Ferris quite colorfully and repeatedly explains to us how uptight and anxious Cameron is, not to simply crack a joke or to highlight his own laissez-faire, carefree attitude, but to give genuine context to Cameron’s eventual nervous breakdown and emotional arc throughout the film.
Gradually, we begin to see Cameron’s crucial role in the film. In a lesser teen flick, Ferris would seem like the worst friend in the world for pressuring Cameron into playing hooky, considering the consequences of the day’s events. Ferris gets off scot-free while Cameron’s home life is suggested to implode. But Ferris is so intentional about the way he ropes Cameron into it that it makes me feel like his grand day of planned reprieve is as much for Cameron as it is for himself.
When Ferris delivers his iconic line, “Life moves pretty fast. If you don’t stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it,” he’s speaking to us, the audience, but he’s also saying it to Cameron. This is the message that he spends the entire day trying to convince his best friend of because he knows Cameron is the one who needs to hear it most.
Part of what sets Cameron apart from the traditional best friend character is that he’s an incredibly dynamic character. By comparison, Ferris is entirely static. He undergoes no changes nor development throughout the narrative, and aside from the comedic side plot of the villainous principal trying to catch him, the story’s central emotional focus is Cameron. The film’s true dramatic climax isn’t the principal getting duped and Ferris getting away with it once again, but it is Cameron destroying the car and making the decision to finally stand up for himself. Throughout the film, Cameron is the one affected most by the day’s events, the one that grows and develops and finds a reason to not just survive, but to live each day to the fullest.
Alan Ruck’s performance in this film is simply phenomenal and is a key aspect of what elevates “Ferris Bueller” beyond a teen nostalgia classic. Even though we never meet his parents or get a direct view into his home life, you can feel the emotional weight and larger implications of his words in every scene. I think about the exchange between Cameron and Sloane before the parade all the time, the way he so matter-of-factly says, “There’s nothing (Ferris) can’t handle. I can’t handle anything.” Or the scene where Cameron stares into the George Seurat painting, “A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte,” and you can feel him drifting off a million miles away, haunted by his search for recognition in those tiny, pixelated faces.
Without a word of dialogue, I know precisely what he’s looking for so intently in that painting because I recognize it in myself. I can’t count how many times I have searched for meaning in art as if it could be subsumed as meaning in life. Everyone wants to be Ferris as a teen, but this film resonates with people because most of us were Cameron once, feeling terribly inept and unsure of the future. Everything probably doesn’t work out as perfectly for him as it does for Ferris, but he still has this beautiful, miraculous day of adventure to look back on. I love the way this film makes a single day feel endless, the entirety of their young lives stretching out before them. From the Art Institute to the Sears Tower to a Cubs game to a spontaneous street parade, everything about it feels magical and boundless and unforgettable.
Film critic Richard Roeper once called “Ferris Bueller,” “something of a suicide prevention film” because it was never really about Ferris’s day off, but Cameron’s. An innocuous teenage best friend in a comedy film has ended up being so much more than a means of comic relief or a narrative foil. Every time I rewatch it now, I wonder what happens to Cameron in the ending we never get to see. I selfishly like to think that he’s OK, that maybe a single day truly can change your life for the better because it lets me think that I’ll be OK, that my life has meaning and that as long as I slow down and look around every once in a while, I won’t miss it.
Daily Arts Writer Serena Irani can be reached at seirani@umich.edu.