After watching this movie for the first time in several years, I was struck by a thought: what kind of person would Ferris grow up to be?



My guess is that Ferris would grow up to be a guy who loses about six jobs a year. Unfortunately, that's the reality of life: smart alec kids have to grow up sometime, even if they're as cool as Ferris.



And that's the beauty of Ferris. He's an eternal teenager, captured in that nexus between childhood and adulthood that we all had to endure. But nobody endured it as well as Ferris does, which is why he's so lovable.



Much has been written about the humor in Matthew Broderick's performance, but little has been written about the tone. Broderick is tone-perfect - a little more mellow, and you have Bill and Ted; a little more manic, and you have Jon Cryer. Ferris is cool, but not unflappable. He's cocky, but slightly unsure of the future. He's a smart aleck, but he's earnest, and he's brave to boot. He's the quintessential teenager, albeit one who does things that all of us wish we'd had the balls to do.



And Ferris is all too aware that this magical time in his life is going to end pretty soon. That truth adds an almost subliminally sad subtext to this film, which is ostensibly about being an exuberant teenager. That's a pretty neat trick for a movie that's supposed to be little more than a silly teenage romp, isn't it?



Eventually, all of us have to grow up. All except Ferris, that is. We never have to watch his teenage precociousness turn into grown-up irresponsibility. Hell, that's what happens to us all at some point, and it will never happen to Ferris.



Isn't that the beauty of this movie? By seeing Ferris in his eternal teenage glory, maybe we can all catch a glimpse of the funny, rebellious, cocky, noble people we all once were during that period between childhood and adulthood - and perhaps might be again.