Imagine a time and place with no mobile phones, Wi-Fi, or an endless stream of notifications: just you, a library, and 8 hours of silence. In 1985 teenagers knew this hell as detention. For teenagers in 2025, it might feel like a fate worse than death. John Hughes’ iconic teen movie, The Breakfast Club, turns 40 this year. While its themes of identity and connection remain timeless, its premise might seem like a nightmare to today’s screen-savvy generation. Could modern teens, raised on smartphones and TikTok, survive the enforced boredom of a daylong, tech-free detention? More importantly, would they come out of it transformed—or just traumatized?

Setting the Stage: What Is The Breakfast Club About?

For the uninitiated, The Breakfast Club follows five students from vastly different social cliques who are thrown together for a full-day Saturday detention.

  • Claire Standish (Molly Ringwald): The privileged “princess” with a polished exterior and hidden insecurities.
  • Andrew Clark (Emilio Estevez): The “athlete,” grappling with the pressure to live up to others’ expectations.
  • Brian Johnson (Anthony Michael Hall): The “brain,” whose academic success masks a deep fear of failure.
  • Allison Reynolds (Ally Sheedy): The “basket case,” an enigmatic loner who craves genuine connection.
  • John Bender (Judd Nelson): The “criminal,” whose rebellious demeanor conceals a troubled home life.

Constantly assailed by the antagonizing Principal Vernon, the five students are ordered to stay silent and write an essay about who they think they are. Predictably, they ignore the rules, instead spending the day pushing each other’s buttons, confronting their stereotypes, and gradually bonding over their shared struggles. By the end of the detention, they’ve torn down their social barriers, realizing they’re more alike than different.

This dynamic interplay is at the heart of The Breakfast Club’s enduring appeal. But how would this same scenario unfold in a world dominated by smartphones and digital distractions?

A World Without Smartphones: The Horror of No Devices

Imagine being stuck in a library today, all day with no phones, no Wi-Fi, no music streamers, no Netflix, and no YouTube. For the five students in the film, boredom wasn’t just inevitable—it was the point. Without screens or endless streams of content, they filled the hours by bickering, dancing, rifling through private belongings, and confessing their deepest insecurities. For teens today, accustomed to constant entertainment at their fingertips, such conditions might feel more like dystopian horror than detention.

In 1985, boredom wasn’t something to avoid—it was something to endure. It forced people to look inward, reflect, or simply sit with their thoughts. Today, boredom is almost a forgotten experience. Teens instinctively pull out their phones at the first hint of downtime, escaping into TikTok rabbit holes or Instagram scrolls. Detention without devices wouldn’t just feel tedious; it would feel alien. The silence of the library would be deafening, the lack of stimulation unbearable. The fidgeting would be real, and so would the awkwardness of making actual eye contact.

A world without phones also means a world where curiosity can’t be instantly satisfied. No Googling an interesting fact, no Shazam-ing a faintly playing song, no group chats to make the hours fly by. For teens who’ve grown up with answers—or distractions—just a tap away, the act of waiting without entertainment could feel like punishment in itself.

Forced Connection vs. Digital Distraction

The Breakfast Club’s enforced boredom compelled the characters to engage with one another—sometimes explosively, sometimes tenderly. The absence of distractions turned the quiet library into a pressure cooker where stereotypes melted away and raw truths emerged.

In 2025, it’s easy to picture the same scenario playing out very differently. Would Bender have snuck in a phone, hiding it inside his jacket or a hollowed-out book? Would he be texting his friends under the table, smirking as Principal Vernon passed by? Claire might try to discreetly snap selfies when no one was looking, while Andrew could be sneaking glances at sports scores. Allison, with her mysterious vibe, might have secretly downloaded e-books to pass the time, while Brian could be brainstorming essay ideas using a hidden notes app. Instead of talking to each other, today’s teens might quietly engage with their screens, avoiding any meaningful interaction.

The magic of the film lies in how it made connection unavoidable—something modern teens, with their curated digital worlds, might struggle to replicate. Without the ability to retreat into their devices, the characters were forced to confront not only each other but also themselves.

The Relevance of The Breakfast Club in the Digital Age

The movie’s themes of identity and isolation remain as relevant today as they were in 1985. However, the ways teens experience those feelings have evolved. Today’s high schoolers carefully curate their online personas, presenting polished versions of themselves for likes and validation. The raw, unfiltered moments in The Breakfast Club stand in stark contrast to a world where every interaction can be documented, shared, and judged.

In 2025, isolation isn’t just about being alone in a library; it’s about feeling disconnected despite constant connectivity. The film’s characters were stuck in a room together, with nothing but their words and actions to define them. For teens today, the idea of being offline long enough to let their guard down might feel more terrifying than any detention.

Could Today’s Teens Survive The Breakfast Club-Style Detention?

So, could today’s teens survive a Breakfast Club-style detention? Picture Brian fidgeting nervously, lamenting the absence of Wi-Fi. Claire glancing at the clock every five seconds, her phone confiscated and her digital lifeline severed. Andrew struggling to sit still, wishing he could stream workout tutorials. Allison doodling furiously in her notebook, her creativity now the only escape. And Bender? He’s probably orchestrating a covert operation to retrieve a confiscated phone from Vernon’s office.

But here’s the real question: Would any of them look up long enough to have a meaningful conversation? Without the enforced boredom of 1985-style detention, the shared vulnerability that made The Breakfast Club so powerful might never emerge.

Lessons from The Breakfast Club for the Screen Generation

Maybe the real lesson of The Breakfast Club isn’t just about breaking stereotypes; it’s about what we discover when we’re forced to unplug. In a world where boredom is a rare and terrifying state, the film’s enforced idleness might hold a lesson for the screen generation. After all, it was in those long, unoccupied hours that the characters grew, challenged each other, and ultimately bonded.

Forty years later, The Breakfast Club remains a testament to the power of connection—real, unfiltered, face-to-face connection. Perhaps that’s exactly the kind of “cruel and unusual punishment” today’s teens need.