Hollywood, to state the bleeding obvious, was not an industry founded on philanthropic values, and its most prized product – actors – are in the business of selling their famous faces. Screen performers need to make a living like the rest of us, and they bring home the bacon by cashing in their bodies and minds. In the brothel industry this is called prostitution. In the movie biz, it’s called acting.

Hugh Jackman is currently appearing on Australian TV screens flogging Lipton Ice Tea. The latest in a series of commercials depicts him jogging down a street, across a bridge and into a park, an idolizing fan trailing him on a bicycle, until he encounters a Lipton Ice Tea vendor. Jackman is handed an icy cold bottle, and, his sweat-veneered skin glistening in the sunlight, takes a mighty gulp while a choir of angels hums on the soundtrack.

If that wasn’t lame enough, check out this disturbing behind the scenes video in which Jackman explains what creatively drew him to the script. “I thought (it was) a really good way to kind of communicate what we’re trying to say about the drink and how Lipton Ice Tea can really kind of keep you cool under pressure,” says Jackman, no stranger to an easy buck and the most gosh darn earnest snake oil salesman in the business.

Plenty of calibre actors have also traded small chunks of their time for cash bonanzas, and, while far from a dignified look, who could blame them? In recent years Al Pacino has sold coffee, Natalie Portman shampoo, Ewan McGregor men’s fragrance, Uma Thurman broadband, George Clooney cars, and Samuel Jackson — by staring down and shouting at prospective customers — bank accounts.

This month, however, Matthew baby-faced Broderick crossed the line — no simple feat in an industry of notoriously lax standards. No, I’m not referring to his supporting role in Brett “rehearsal’s for fags” Ratner’s clumsy comedy, Tower Heist. I’m talking about a Super Bowl commercial in which Broderick cashed in on his most famous, most iconic character – the beloved Ferris Bueller – in service of what Homer Simpson once described as “the all ighty ollar.”

It began with this ten second teaser, a preview (sigh) to a commercial (sigh) that deliberately sparked speculation it may be evidence of a belated sequel to writer/director John Hughes’ 1986 school-skippin’ classic.

Instead, it was a viral prelude to this soul-destroying advertisement for Honda, which treads far beyond the land of the shameless.

It’s one thing for actors to cash in on perfume, coffee, cars, undies, whatever. But to take a character, and a film, treasured by millions and turn it into a vehicle (no pun intended) for a crass and blatant boost to the bank account is a reprehensible act, and a mighty blow to those who warmly recall Broderick doin’ the twist, dodging his high school principal, and in turn running into the recesses of many a cinemagoer’s heart.

Imagine if Clark Gable had said “frankly my dear, I don’t give a damn. But ya know what — I do love Bazooka chewing gum!”

Imagine Arnold Schwarzenegger gruffly intoning “I’ll be back…to try on dat farntarstic Adidas t-shirt available at arl good sparts clothing stores.”

Or Robert DeNiro: “You talkin’ to me? I said are you talkin’ to me? Because if you are you should be on the Optus iPhone eight gigabyte $29 a month with $180 included value and 200 meg mobile plan. Cancellation fees apply.”

You get the point. Matthew Broderick – the sad, saggy face of a sell-out – has outdone himself. I’m tempted to say that John Hughes would be turning in his grave, if the late filmmaker weren’t so damn verbose and conversational. If Hughes is anywhere outside this world, I imagine he’s stuck in some purgatory bus stop with John Candy, waxing about shower curtain rings and waiting for Judd Nelson to make the Saturday detention of life – or in this case death – a little more bearable.