SUPER 8. Science fiction blast right from the 80s
It is nothing else but the name of the Kodak 8 mm film format. It dominated the amateur market in the mid-1960s and held its sway until the popularization of video cassettes. This is crucial information because Steven Spielberg (producer and one of the reasons for the film’s creation) and Jeffrey Jacob Abrams (director) began their filmmaking journey using this exact format. It’s important because one of the film’s characters records his debut on this tape, intending to submit it to the Super 8 film competition. It is on this tape that, by chance, an extraordinary event is recorded, changing the lives of all residents of a provincial American town and becoming the starting point for the Super 8 plot. This is significant because Super 8 has influenced the history and character of contemporary cinema. Ultimately, the term “Super 8” indirectly refers to one of its best and most extraordinary moments, while looking a bit archaic, as if it were shot on Super 8 itself.
Partly for this reason, I eagerly anticipated Super 8 since I saw its full trailer. Before that, not much was known about this project. Abrams managed to keep the project secret for a long time, and for that, he deserves praise. This distinguishes him from most contemporary “young” directors—intelligent promotion with a sense of anticipation. The trailer deserves commendation as well—it clearly communicates what to expect without flaunting the best scenes or cool cult one-liners from the movie. It avoids laying all cards on the table, leaving room for speculation and plenty of conjectures. Add the right amount of mystery, a likable, stylish montage reminiscent of the New Adventure Cinema (James Horner’s Cocoon soundtrack perfectly syncs with successive frames, while E.T. and Close Encounters of the Third Kind are clearly present in the viewer’s thoughts), and, most importantly, the spark of magic.
And that’s exactly what I expected to see in the cinema—a solid, uncompromising science fiction adventure with the typical sensitivity of cinema from that era. A film that won’t let me sit still until the end, where I’ll be twelve again, and which may not necessarily overwhelm me in my seat—because that’s incredibly difficult in this genre today, especially when those twelve years are long gone— but will evoke in my heart a genuinely sincere, innocent feeling of experiencing something new, fresh, and simultaneously palpably authentic. Something that will absorb me entirely and make me, instead of sleeping at night, stare at the miraculously acquired poster, envied by my backyard friends, and mentally return to the recently experienced great adventure that I didn’t take Maggie because I chickened out at the last minute… Did it satisfy these expectations?
Not entirely—but it’s neither the film’s nor Abrams’ fault; it’s my own imagination that stands no chance against reality and changing times. The backyard buddies still have twelve but with work hours and mouths to feed, films are the last thing on their minds. I can have twenty posters for free—just approach the counter and ask nicely or download them from the net and print them myself—only what’s the use when there’s nowhere to hang even one. And I don’t sleep at night, anyway, because I write silly reviews. In the cinema, I couldn’t sit still, not because of the film, but probably because my phone was bothering me and my bladder was acting up…
But none of that matters because I had a blast! My heart raced again, reality faded with the cinema lights (the upper ones, not that there was a power outage or anything…), and for those two hours, I spiritually rejuvenated and took off completely without the aid of substances. Nostalgia? A return to (this time) the past? Also, yes. However, I won’t list all the potential quirks and references, nor will I drool over how geeky and/or Spielbergian this film is. Because it’s not entirely.
Sure, you can feel the spirit and supervision of the great Spielberg—who changed cinema—after all, the fanboy behind the camera wants to change it too. Yes, the film is set in the heyday of such films (specifically, right at the turn of the 70s and 80s), which it draws inspiration from and consciously references—whether through the setting or the fact that the main characters are a bunch of kids; or the final scene, inadvertently recalling the aforementioned film about an alien with a glowing finger. But these are details that don’t have a significant impact on the film’s reception—it stands excellently on its own without such references. I must admit that the entire backdrop is a cherry on top, and I can’t look at this film with a completely sober eye because of it. However, those who didn’t grow up on E.T., who haven’t seen Close Encounters… and who think The Goonies are a type of cereal, will feel that the film comes from a different era. A different narrative, humor, a different dimension of “fun,” a different dynamic, and atmosphere—these are the elements that strongly root Super 8 three decades earlier, not the fact that, here and there, we’re dealing with an extraterrestrial who accidentally landed in Everyland.
Moreover, in this regard, Abrams not only decisively deviates from his guru but also significantly surpasses him. While Spielberg’s aliens are an attraction in themselves, being cute, gentle beings that everyone, including a little Drew Barrymore, loves, here we have a real, emerging-from-nowhere threat that is little known and barely visible. And when it does reveal itself, love and adoration are the last things that come to mind. Instead, there’s pain, oppression, terror, and finally, an attempt to understand the visitor—only on this basis does Abrams build a thread of understanding. In this respect, Super 8 is closer to the great, underrated Signs (or, if you’re looking for something closer to the mentioned classics, to Cocoon). The alien serves as a pretext—a background and a catalyst for interpersonal relationships and attempts to overcome emotional family crises. And these relationships are presented exceptionally well in the film, with a lot of credit going to the perfectly chosen cast, which never lets the fantastic, meticulously crafted visual side of the film overwhelm them for a moment. The kids are very natural, full of energy, and there’s excellent chemistry between them. The better of the Fanning sisters is incredibly extraordinary, and Kyle Chandler deserves a revival of the great adventure genre because he’s a walking charisma. So, even just for them, it’s worth watching this film.
Of course, I realize it’s not perfect. In fact, in many ways, it’s a very safe, conservative production that only surprises with the absence of the sterility that plagues contemporary cinema. It’s a film that doesn’t stick everywhere and can be criticized for many things, such as the initial disaster, which, though impressive, is unnecessarily exaggerated. Or the end of Super 8, where everything rushes headlong towards a grand finale, being heavily cut—as if Abrams removed a few scenes (and he did, as seen in the trailer) to finish the film faster and make it more dynamic for today’s youngsters.
You can also complain about some implausible actions, the stupidity and slowness of the military, or the design of the alien itself. You can, but it doesn’t make much sense because Super 8 is so super that its flaws fade into the background, and you can allow yourself a momentary suspension of disbelief. Movies like this forgive everything as long as they manage to draw us into their world and enchant us. Super 8 can— I know because I’ve checked twice already, and I can honestly say that it’s not just a one-time enchantment. It’s pure magic in the best American style.
PS Don’t turn off the movie during the end credits! It’s worth clenching your buttocks for a few more minutes to find out who was responsible for setting the lights.
PPS For those interested—spotted Easter eggs and trivia related to the film: HERE
Jacek Lubiński