It’s funny: film critics used to accuse the genre-defining blockbuster films of Steven Spielberg (starting with Jaws) of bullying the surrender of meaningful cinema in favor of box office receipt-driven bombast and spectacle, and now the critics are calling J.J. Abrams’ homage to these films, Super 8, the antidote to standard summer trash like the Transformers films because of its firm emotional core. Though Super 8 may be a little nastier and harder edged than such films (perhaps reflecting the times we live in), the critics are onto something: the idea of caring one bit about let alone shedding tears the way people did in, say, E.T. over any character’s demise in the Transformers franchise is beyond improbable. But Super 8 is magically burdened with real emotional heft, and it's something to behold. Sure there’s drooling monsters, single-minded villains incapable of summoning an ounce of compassion, and things exploding left and right, but there’s a feeling of there being more at stake than in many summer films of late, because you genuinely care about what happens to the people on the screen. This is because the writing and performances plant these characters firmly in the "reality" created for them. In fact, the fate these characters may suffer due to the travails threatened by the fantastical elements in the films may be bested by those in their everyday existence.Though much has (deservedly) been written about Elle Fanning's performance, the cast (especially the kids, led by the remarkable Joel Courtney) is uniformly (and unusually) solid. Without giving too much away (the less said the better), a group of misfit, film making kids (you can be forgiven for comparing them to the characters from The Goonies) navigating their way through small-town life in late '70s witness a horrific train crash while filming their latest opus, and find themselves witnesses to something that defies simple explanation.
The film doesn’t transcend the criticisms leveled by Kael and her contemporaries when the summer blockbuster was in its infancy, criticisms that, though they have their detractors who argue that such critics are humorless snoots, impervious to the charms of special effects, certainly hold water. And there are clunky passages, a few plot device missteps here and there, and interweaving themes (film making being the primary one) that never gel 100 percent. But at this point on the trajectory in the lineage of what the summer popcorn film template has become, it’s refreshing (and familiar) to surrender to a film that uses bombast and thrills in a manner that furthers the storytelling, rather than obliterating it to fiery metallic bits.
