Redux: Close Encounters of the Third Kind.

Review #126: Close Encounters of the Third Kind.

Cast: 

Richard Dreyfuss (Roy Neary), Teri Garr (Ronnie Neary), Melinda Dillon (Jillian Guiler), François Truffaut (Claude Lacombe), Bob Balaban (David Laughlin), J. Patrick McNamara (Project Leader), Warren Kemmerling (Major “Wild Bill” Walsh), Roberts Blossom (Farmer), Philip Dodds (Jean Claude), and Cary Guffey (Barry Guiler) Directed by Steven Spielberg.

Review: 

“People are always looking for – I don’t know what you’d call it – I guess, the cosmic entertainment. More than the meteorological explanation. From the behavioral science point of view, I was just as interested in finding out why people looked to the skies, and want to believe, as I was in looking to the skies myself, to try to understand what’s happening up there, that the Air Force and the Government don’t want to tell us about.”

The 1970s were a hell of a time to make movies. Steven Spielberg became a major director during this time because of numerous features that he made, whether that involved television films such as Duel (1971) or his film debut with The Sugarland Express (1974), or more specifically, the big blockbuster Jaws (1975). Close Encounters of the Third Kind went from a development deal first done in 1973 to release in 1977, one with a script entirely written by himself that was inspired by a variety of factors, at least when it arose from script hell. The original idea was to have a script done by Paul Schrader, but troubles with the script led to re-writes by John Hill (each of which involved a cop as the lead) before Spielberg took over himself. David Giler, Jerry Belson, Hal Barwood, and Matthew Robbins all made suggestions or script doctoring, although only Spielberg is credited on the final script. One inspiration was Spielberg and his father seeing meteor showers, but one also has to consider Spielberg's previous 1964 film Firelight, which he wrote and directed as a 17-year-old living in Phoenix, Arizona. That film (not available to the public) dealt with an investigation of a series of colored lights in the sky that saw people disappear. Lastly, the song "When You Wish Upon a Star" also proved inspiration in the writing. His next film would come out two years later with 1941, the war ensemble comedy flop. There are numerous versions of the film, owing to how post-production was handled between Spielberg and Columbia Pictures. The film was rushed into finishing by the studio for a release on November 16, 1977, while Spielberg would've liked to release it the summer of next year. They made a deal together after its success that would see him re-edit the film how he wanted, provided that he include a sequence that showed the interior of the mothership. Spielberg regretted the sequence, which was first seen in 1980 as a "Special Edition" that apparently added a few sequences involving Dreyfuss and his character in the family time before his close encounter. A third edition labeled the "Collector's Edition" is basically the same re-edit but without the mothership sequence. Incidentally, Devils Tower, which had a couple of scenes filmed on location (minus the airstrip that was filmed on a disused airbase in Alabama), has a showing of the film on a nightly basis. Incidentally, Columbia Pictures tried to force a sequel, and Spielberg did conceive an idea called Night Skies on the off-hand chance they tried to make a film without him, which even saw John Sayles serve as a consultant for what would have been done after Raiders of the Lost Ark (1981) that would've been about aliens terrorizing a family. The script did not go too far, save for one thing: an alien being depicted as befriending one of the terrorized people as a benevolent creature to someone living in a broken home eventually spiraled into E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial (1982).

I wonder what was in my thought process when watching this movie all those years ago, since the only time I remember watching the film was in April of 2012, although being the first film that I wrote a review (brief as it was) after the passing of my dad. Maybe I dug the special effects, for which Douglas Trumbull was the visual effects supervisor while Carlo Rambaldi designed the extraterrestrials. Or maybe it was John Williams and his music score that got to me more than anything. Looking back, the movie is good, but it was not nearly as good as I imagined it was, although one can certainly see the appealing qualities in the 45 years that have passed since its release beyond the visually arresting imagination seen in plenty of Spielberg movies. It is the visual images that come from the movie that create the lasting impression of the film in awe, whether that involves a kid being distraught after seeing a fatherly meltdown involving mashed potatoes or the abduction of a little kid or the very first time that we see the alien lights. The scope of the film is quite involving, with effects that mostly back this vision up (I can see where Spielberg would think that digital effects of now might supercede what is seen here, but hey, effects made by human hands and tenacity work fine when it is executed well).

These are the actors that were presented the chance to play the main role before Dreyfuss and his lobbying paid off: Steve McQueen (said no because he couldn't cry on cue), Dustin Hoffman, and Gene Hackman, and Jack Nicholson. Truffaut, as you probably know, was a famous French director. Spielberg wanted him for this role from the first moment of casting, although he apparently put it off until the last minute (incidentally, he appeared in four feature films as an actor, but this was the only one where he was not the director). Dreyfuss is technically the best part of the film when it comes to the acting, although I would argue that Dillon holds just as much weight despite less than half of the screentime. As much I despise the character in the long run, he does play it with conviction to where one does have the semblance of sympathy of seeing an obsession drive a family man into a curious place where imagination is only half the story. Garr isn't given too much to really do besides being the skeptic (i.e., a level-headed person that has to be shown as a foil because the movie doesn't have an answer) with worry and fears. Dillon is the one to appreciate in panic, one that we are always on the side on in the pained parental fear held most: a missing child. I almost think that the film might have worked better with her on the mount rather than Dreyfuss, but you have to remember that the character is distinctly one that reflects the director in his curiosity more than anything.

It is the ending that doesn't quite bring things together to a great finish. Not to beat a dead horse, but the fact that a character like Roy decides to just galivant across the galaxy is a bit weird when you remember that most of the film saw him try to raise two kids with his wife. Regardless of how the film presents the family, it just comes off as a bit too selfish to really work as an ending in the way that I'm sure Spielberg wanted. In fact, Spielberg has been quoted as saying that he wouldn't have made the film the way it was after he started his own family, as he had a "privilege of youth" when making the original film (Dreyfuss has stated in recent years that any idea of the ending being different if Spielberg was a family man to be "nonsense"). I felt that the story between Dillon's character and the desperation and obsession she has over the alien encounter is far more interesting to consider than deadbeat Roy tearing down his whole life on Earth, unless one is meant to take it as the tragedy that it sounds like. But this is a movie where the way to deal with a massive spaceship is to trade musical notes. As a whole, the movie kind of just ends with parts that seem more like possibilities for further curiosity rather than a complete story such as missing men from long ago brought back to Earth, or the idea of just how one reacts to seeing their son get snatched and get returned to them. As a whole, the movie has endured for the imagination it inspires within the unknown with mostly skillful execution, one that is at least a contender for the first tier of interesting sci-fi movies of the past 50 years and a worthy effort from a soon legendary director. It inspires a curiosity in the exploration of what lies beneath knowing that one is not alone in this world beyond the people inhabiting the Earth, which is crisply presented in a solid enough manner by Spielberg and company.

Overall, I give it 9 out of 10 stars.

On Sunday: Turkey Week III, a collection of "turkey" movies from November 20th until November 26th.

The 400 Blows.

Review #1400: The 400 Blows.

Cast: 
Jean-Pierre Léaud (Antoine Doinel), Albert Rémy (Julien Doinel), Claire Maurier (Gilberte Doinel), Guy Decomble (Sourpuss), Patrick Auffay (René Bigey), Georges Flamant (Monsieur Bigey), Pierre Repp (English teacher), Daniel Couturier (Betrand Mauricet), and Luc Andrieux (Le professeur de gym) Directed by François Truffaut.

Review: 
“I am often asked at what point in my love affair with films I began to want to be a director or a critic. Truthfully, I don't know. All I know is that I wanted to get closer and closer to films.”

There are numerous directors that can cited as notable or iconic in their own right around the world in many genres and styles. Francois Truffaut was a lover of film who wanted to break from the traditions of quality in film, particularly in his native France. He had an unsatisfying home life as a child, growing up primarily with his grandmother for the first ten years of his life, and he never met his biological father. Living with his mother and adopted father was not particularly satisfying, since she found him a distraction and he was often left alone on weekends, which led to him trying to get out of the house as often as possible that worked into a love for cinema. Some of his experiences in young life are reflected in this film, such as a stolen typewriter and his childhood friend Robert Lachenay also served as an inspiration for the film while working as an assistant to this and several future films. Although he found himself expelled from numerous schools, he aspired to become self-taught in cinema and books, doing the former three times a day and the latter three times a week, with some films he saw over ten times (before his death he would claim to have seen nearly three thousand films). He formed his own cinema club when he was 16 after time spent with film clubs all around Paris, with the biggest inspiration being the Cinémathèque Française, one of the largest archives of film documents and objects in the world that has offered screenings of films all over the world daily that has endured in Paris since 1936. André Bazin was a key figure in Truffaut's path from situations such as being in the French Army to journalism, since Bazin was a co-founder of Cahiers du cinema, which has endured in publication for six decades with several noted writers that would become filmmakers in their own right, including ones belonging to the French New Wave like Truffaut, who served as writer and eventual editor for the magazine, where he was once called "The Gravedigger of French Cinema", and he would later say that writing about films helped him understand them better in terms of exercising one's intellect. The French New Wave (described by Truffaut once as not so much a movement or a group but as a quality) found inspiration through blending Italian neorealism and classical Hollywood with directors like Howard Hawks and Alfred Hitchcock (who Truffaut would famously do an interview with in 1962 that was published into a book in 1966), who he and others applauded as auteurs that prevailed over the traditional quality from directors who seemed to follow the script as a stager without authority or flexibility. His yearning to make films led to short films in 1955 with A Visit and The Mischief Makers (1957). These, along with The 400 Blows (known as France as Les Quatre Cents Coups, which refers to an expression that involves living a wild life) would be made on modest budgets. Truffaut planned to film a bunch of sketches that involved childhood as a series of short films, which was the basis of his second short film Les Mistons. One of those ideas for a sketch would evolve into a film (the sketch in question involved the main character playing hooky from school and making up the excuse of his mother dying to try and get out of trouble). In a career cut short by his death from a brain tumor at the age of 52, he would make over twenty films as a director (while also acting in a few films as well), with notable productions of his being Fahrenheit 451 (1966; Truffaut's first film in color and only non-French production), Day for Night (1973, winner of an Academy Award for Best Foreign Film) and The Last Metro (1980).

Truffaut once predicted that films would become "more personal than autobiography...Tomorrow's film will be an act of love." He certainly seems to have been proven correct in his own right. What is there really to say about a film like this? How many directors can have a debut as tremendously fascinating as this one proves to be with how everything sticks together in realism with simplicity for a director making a very personal and very effective film that seems quite distinct from one could expect from a coming-of-age film. For one thing, most of the film was shot without sound, with dubbing being done later (the notable exception being the psychologist scene). The film was done in DyaliScope (a widescreen process similar to CinemaScope), with Henri Decaë serving as cinematographer (being the highest-paid person for the film), who does an excellent job with capturing a stark gorgeous look that is faithful to the film's purpose of naturalism without betraying it. The key to the power of this film is its main performance from 14-year old Léaud, who Truffaut picked after auditioning hundreds of children, finding similar traits to Truffaut himself in terms of "a certain suffering with regard to the family." He proves a worthy presence to follow with, filled with plenty of unruly conviction that is compelling to watch in the ups and downs that come from growing up. The misunderstandings that come from watching him is one we can see in ourselves in some way, particularly in that longing that comes out in the question sequence near the end, done with the actor having just an idea of what questions would be asked and what the answers would be that matched the storyline - in other words, he improvises quite well for is needed. The two would collaborate together on six further films together, with four of them (one of them being a short) featuring the character of Antoine in a two decade span. The rest of the cast keep up with him just as well, such as a rough Decomble (as to expect from a tough teacher) with Rémy and Maurier proving wonderfully morose when it comes to looking at these parents beyond initial conclusions about an unruly child and the parents that made said kid. I don't think there is a single person who grew up without feeling misunderstood once, whether by their parent(s) or their teachers or even people they believe are their friends. It doesn't end in adulthood either, depending on one's outlook on people, I suppose. Freedom doesn't really come from standing on a beach but in finding people to love. But in any case, this is a wonderfully crafted look upon adolescence in the eyes of stark realism and honesty that resonate now more than ever as a fascinating film for world cinema and for Truffaut as a whole.

Overall, I give it 10 out of 10 stars.