Cinema Review: Super 8 (2011)

Super 8 sets its stall out early with its opening logos. After the familiar Paramount peak, we see a boy cycling in front of the moon: the Amblin logo, Steven Spielberg's company, its iconic motif of course spawned from E.T.. Only then is it followed by J.J. Abrams' Bad Robot insignia. Not only does it show just how reverently Abrams regards Spielberg, it also encapsulates the tone, subject matter and even time period of the film to follow. Super 8 is a shameless Spielberg riff through and through - and manages to be the best Spielberg film since the heyday of The Beard himself. A cinematic love child of Close Encounters and E.T., albeit with a rather less friendly alien beastie at its centre, Super 8 encapsulates exactly the sort of exuberant fun, married to real heart and soul, that propelled the young Spielberg to such unmatched heights of critical and commercial success.

Like E.T., and also fellow 80s classic Stand By Me, Super 8 is a story of childhood, in which precocious young actors are the stars, but, also like them, it is not a 'kids save the world' movie. Rather, it is about a group of friends thrust into an unfamiliar situation, and who deal with it as best they can. Such a movie relies hugely upon its young performers; fortunately, in Super 8 they shine. Their naturalism and ease in front of the camera is a testament to their individual talent, a brilliant casting job, and superb direction from Abrams. A mark of many of the best directors is how well they coax convincing performances from children; in that respect Abrams excels. What's more, each of these kids feels human and fully developed - sure, they do slot into broad types (the chubby one, the geek, etc.) but they feel like friends you could have had in high school. Their behaviour and interplay comes across as entirely authentic, spontaneous and often hilarious. It's a mark of the sheer entertainment value of these scenes that the science fiction stuff almost feels like a sideshow.

That's not to say that Abrams drops the ball when it comes to the thrills. Not a bit of it. Super 8 is as tight and intense an experience as you could hope for, propelled by pitch perfect pacing and numerous moments of great suspense. The plot kicks off when our central band of boys (and girl), filming their own zombie movie, happen to get front row seats to a mammoth train crash. Naturally, it's not just any train crash - it's a US Air Force train, whose contents are a closely guarded, and now missing, secret. Cue the military invading the small town of Lillian, and some déjà vu for fans of Close Encounters. The crash itself is an absurdly extended cacophony of chaos, which sets the wheels of the plot into inexorable, gripping motion. The way Abrams drip-feeds the mysteries is reminiscent of Lost - the TV show he co-created - but this time, you don't have to wait six years for an answer that may not even be given. Here, the script is honed and polished enough that every element has a payoff and a reason for existing, making the resolution all the more satisfying.

The heart of the film lies with Joe (Joel Courtney) and Alice (Elle Fanning). At the beginning of the film, Joe has just lost his mother; his subsequent difficulties with his lone parent father (Kyle Chandler, receiving deserved exposure) form an emotional backbone to his arc. Alice is the outsider of the group, invited into the boys' inner circle by their need to have a leading lady in their homemade film. She's slightly older and wiser than them, so the casting of the experienced Fanning is ideal. Her story too is tremendously moving, reaching a tearful, beautifully performed moment late on that may tug on the most sceptical heartstrings. Abrams proves an assured hand at balancing such emotional peaks with visceral action, his prowess in the latter already having been shown in his two previous features (Star Trek and Mission: Impossible III). Super 8 feels his most fully cinematic venture yet, the director relaxing his propensity for shaky, tight close-ups and having the confidence to pull back to wider shots with fewer cuts when called for.

If there's a misstep, it's in the alien itself: a malformed jumble of undiscernable body parts, once finally revealed. Its closest cousin is the Cloverfield monster (another Abrams producing gig). Basically, it's neither memorable or clear in its design, the director having apparently prioritised anatomical originality over anything relatable. Thankfully, the creature is not lingered on much, never even quite receiving a clear wide shot, so it doesn't prove to be damaging, and it's more of a plot catalyst than an integral component. This is a film driven by a childlike sense of wonder and lack of cynicism - traits all too rare in both films and reality these days - and demonstrates the inspiring potential of the blockbuster, reaching back to the days when it was not a dirty word.



Summary
Driven by nostalgia but not dependent on it, Super 8 is the best film of the summer, the best film of the year so far, and one of the best blockbusters in many a moon.