Director: Steven Spielberg
Cast: Richard Dreyfuss, Teri Garr, Melinda Dillon, François Truffaut
Have I Seen it Before: Yes. It’s not been a staple of the Spielberg canon for me, and that might have something to do with, at it’s core, the film being about a father who will stop at nothing to not be a father anymore. I think Spielberg would probably agree with that assessment.
Did I Like It: I think I’m more up for the film now, and that may be tied to how it is now less about a man who can’t wait to be free of his kids and wife*, and more about a man in his thirties who maybe didn’t have things work out them. Something extraordinary happens, and it is all he can do to hold on to that sense of wonder.
Which, for some reason, I can relate to now. I won’t spend much time analyzing why, precisely.
One could spend some time dwelling on the technical skill on display here, but how many ways can anyone say that Spielberg knows what he’s doing with a movie? Each frame is pristine, the editing is flawless, and by some miracle, the special effects still work over forty years later. Every Spielberg movie is a worthy cinematic experience**, and here in his prime Amblin phase, each entry into his filmography is an unparalleled celluloid confection.
In times past, I’ve talked about what separated Spielberg from his closest contemporary (as far as this era is concerned), George Lucas. Lucas made great movies generally when the sword of Damocles was swinging right above his head. By the time The Empire Strikes Back (1980) came out, Lucas didn’t have anything to worry about. Aside from a handful of films directed by Spielberg himself, he never quite got it right again. Spielberg on the other hand is the more natural director, and never stopped making worthy films. That being said, there is something special about Spielberg’s films that might very well have fallen apart at the seams, but still managed to miraculously came together. Jaws (1975), with its mercurial shark is that way. This film, with a studio nearly going bankrupt during production, a producer being fired, and by my count 6 separate directors of photography before we even start talking about a second unit, this film is another.
If, like me, this is not one of your favorite Spielberg films, it might be time to come home. It’s probably time for Roy Neary to come home, too.
Actually, it’s probably way too late for that.
*It is still about that, but stay with me, folks.
**Yes, even 1941 (1979).