Take note, aspiring directors: this is passion

Rating: 9/10 (14 June 2011)

I admit it: I am a huge fan of J.J. Abrams. Lost is my favorite TV show, I'm currently hooked on Fringe, and the 2009 reboot is pretty much my only knowledge of Star Trek. I adore the perfect blend of action and emotion and unabashed optimism he brings to his work, a style reminiscent of the great Steven Spielberg - he who popularized escapist summer blockbusters with such classics as Jaws and E.T. So when I heard that his new movie, Super 8, was not only a mysterious science-fiction thriller but also a tribute to Spielberg's early films, my expectations skyrocketed.
Boy did Abrams deliver. Considering the vast amount of hype surrounding the movie since the enigmatic teaser debuted in theaters, anything less than THE feel-good summer movie of 2011 would have suggested failure. Yet somehow, not only was Super 8 everything I wanted it to be, it was more. Suspenseful, humorous and poignant, occasionally all at once, this is the kind of film that's impossible to describe to someone who hasn't experienced it, not because of any shocking plot twist but because its pleasures are rooted so deeply in the pure, irresistible emotions it inspires: delight, sadness, longing, fear, awe. It's like wandering through an exquisite dream – strange yet familiar, surreal yet authentic – and when the credits roll and you jolt back to reality, you feel as though you've left home. This is what the best movies do: sweep you off your feet and immerse you in a world you never want to leave.
Something about prior experience always seems to bring out the best in directors. The majority of the media coverage that greeted the release of Super 8 focused on its cryptic marketing campaign and J.J. Abrams's past making amateur 8mm films and admiring the work of producer Steven Spielberg, and for the latter, it's not hard to see why. Each shot of Super 8, from its quietly moving opening scene to the breathtaking resolution, is infused with such palpable enthusiasm and soulful sincerity that viewers feel as though they're witnessing the director reach some personal catharsis. Part of what makes Super 8 so special is Abrams's obvious personal connection to its story, as his ardor and sympathy breathe life into a plot that could easily have been hackneyed and forgettable. Nonetheless, the movie never becomes self-indulgent or maudlin and displays a striking lack of pretension. Along with the drama and nostalgia comes a healthy dose of humor that assures the audience Abrams isn't taking himself too seriously; one senses that in essence, he is still that same eager cinema-obsessed kid. Also, Super 8 is in no way a rip-off of E.T. or Close Encounters of the Third Kind. Although maintaining some tropes from those films (i.e. benevolent alien, wistful view of childhood,) Super 8 is a distinctly J.J. Abrams creation. In fact, references are something of an Abrams trademark, as they feature prominently in both Lost and Fringe, and the rapport between Joe and his father mirrors the multifaceted parent-child relationships common throughout his work. Most of all, Super 8 showcases Abrams's characteristic hopefulness, a refreshing break from post-9/11 cynicism.
Here, Abrams also continues a trend of pitch-perfect casting. None of the actors can be considered A-list, yet they provide such equally subtle, convincing performances that it is impossible to single out one person – the mark of a truly great ensemble. As Joe's father and the only adult with a significant amount of screen time, Kyle Chandler reveals why Friday Night Lights fans have championed him so fiercely: alternately self-assured and vulnerable, he has a remarkable ability to convey myriad emotions in a split second, often simultaneously. Even in his darker moments, he shows, through a flick of the eyes or inflection of the voice, that beneath the anger and grief, he is thoroughly, undeniably human. In less generous roles, Noah Emmerich (sinister yet never cartoonish) and Ron Eldard (heartbreaking) demonstrate similar tact. Still, it is the newcomers who form the movie's heart and soul. In his acting debut as shy protagonist Joe Lamb, 15 year old Joel Courtney is astounding, inhabiting his role with the poise of an actor twice his age. Amid an industry dominated by spoiled, too-clean child stars, he feels refreshingly down-to-earth, coming off as praiseworthy yet relatable, innocent yet flawed. Elle Fanning lends rebel Alice Dainard a nice balance of feminist resolve and quiet sensitivity, and Riley Griffiths has an endearing vivacity as Joe's best friend Charles, while Ryan Lee, Zach Mills and Gabriel Basso (Cary, Preston and Martin, respectively) provide ample support. Watching this group of up-and-coming actors, I can't help but feel a bit more hopeful for Hollywood's future.
And this brings me to what should resonate most with audiences: the movie's spot-on portrait of childhood. Neither patronizing nor quixotic, Abrams's ode to the wonders of youth is among the most faithful I've ever seen, and his empathy for his juvenile protagonists is evident from the way he treats them not as precocious saints (one of cinema's most infuriating clichés) but as complex, well-rounded people who are capable of love, bitterness, despair, excitement and everything in between. Even when dealing with serious themes such as death, their dialogue is never less than credible. Look at their crude banter in the café scene or their panicked reactions to the train crash or Joe and Alice's casual exchange of complaints about Charles's domineering behavior. Abrams deftly avoids the typical (pre)teen angst formula, giving his characters depth rarely seen among on screen children, who tend to obsess over superficial issues like popularity and dating (there is a minor love triangle, but it stays true to the awkward naiveté of real child romances). Plus, bonus points for making nerds cool!
Ultimately, Super 8 is like its director: smart, nostalgic and lighthearted, a comforting reminder of humanity's potential for goodness. This is why I fell in love with movies in the first place.