I thought they were supposed to be buried in a VW Beetle…
Let my Cameron goooooooooooooooooooooo.
$2.3 million and worth every penny. Is that really a Ferrari in the garage? Hard to tell from the pic…
Part of me just died inside.
My favorite thought-piece about Ferris Bueller is the “Fight Club” theory, in which Ferris Bueller, the person, is just a figment of Cameron’s imagination, like Tyler Durden, and Sloane is the girl Cameron secretly loves.
One day while he’s lying sick in bed, Cameron lets “Ferris” steal his father’s car and take the day off, and as Cameron wanders around the city, all of his interactions with Ferris and Sloane, and all the impossible hijinks, are all just played out in his head. This is part of the reason why the “three” characters can see so much of Chicago in less than one day — Cameron is alone, just imagining it all.
It isn’t until he destroys the front of the car in a fugue state does he finally get a grip and decide to confront his father, after which he imagines a final, impossible escape for Ferris and a storybook happy ending for Sloane (“He’s gonna marry me!”), the girl that Cameron knows he can never have.
Let’s say you’re eating a quesadilla in the kitchen. Why then would you decide to get up and run through the house — mouth full of food — only to trip and fall in the hallway, split your head open on the corner of a baseboard, and have to be taken to the ER for 9 stitches, screaming all the way? I guess if you’re 6 years old, that’s a normal Saturday.
Danger lurks around every corner!
The death toll is already scary, but this could also impact my burrito consumption in coming months.