B | A stranded alien is taken in by a 10-year-old boy. Directed by Steven Spielberg Starring Henry Thomas, Robert MacNaughton, and Drew Barrymore Initial Review by Jon Kissel |
In his first 8 movies, Steven Spielberg made two of those about aliens. The first, Close Encounters of the Third Kind, has only been seen by two of us, at least as far as the spreadsheet is concerned, and in comparison to E.T., that film is very different. The aliens don't show up until the end in Close Encounters, where they're present at frame one of E.T., and the endings of each film present the protagonist with a choice of whether or not to go with the aliens. Most importantly, Close Encounters is told from an adult's perspective, while E.T. is told through a kid's. That contributes to a much darker film, perfect for the decade in which it was released. E.T., however, is released several years later in the more optimistic 80's, and reflects the lighter, more frivolous era of its consumption. In exchanging adult fascination for childlike wonder and changing the protagonists' relationship with the aliens from one of obsession to one of companionship, Spielberg is making a less interesting film, albeit a more emotional one.
I doubt anyone would call Spielberg's tale of a boy and a friendly alien one of his best films. This is Spielberg at his cutesiest, a level he would revisit with one of his worst films, Hook. E.T.'s demeanor is that of a small child, something that seems out of the norm for a space-faring species, but if it allows the Elliot-E.T. relationship to click, so much the better. Spielberg can also make up the rules as he goes, pulling whatever powers E.T. needs at any moment out and having them save the day. Telekinetic levitation can be busted out when it's most dramatically effective, and his heart light apparently functions as a defibrillator unless he's brought back to life by a human's love. The government forces are ultra-competent until the movie needs them to not be so great at their jobs. Everything's conspiring to make a light romp that can hit emotional nerves when necessary. This is a movie for the heart first, and the head further down the list.
E.T.'s not the tightest script that Spielberg's worked with on a plot level, but I do think writer Melissa Mathison is getting the oft-more important emotion right. We're introduced to Elliot as he begs to be let into his big brother's game of Dungeons and Dragons, as succinct an exploration of their relationship and personalities as any. I expect this film to play very well with our members that come from parents who have been divorced, especially if they were kids when it happened. Spielberg himself is a child of divorce and I would imagine he and Mathison collaborated tightly on subtler scenes in this movie about an alien with a stretchy neck. The way the kids have to walk on eggshells around their mom, their capacity to really hurt her feelings, the way they step up without being told to, it all paints a picture of something that has been broken and E.T. functions as a uniting factor, or at worst, a distraction. The line between character and plot loses its tautness as the film goes on, as talk of the divorce effectively vanishes after E.T. falls ill, but as far as emotionally contextualizing the story, Spielberg and Mathison do effective work.
Spielberg's films contain dozens of iconic shots, and E.T. might contain some of the most memorable. Spielberg chose the image of E.T. and Elliot flying their bike across the moon as the symbol of Amblin Entertainment, his production studio, so every subsequent Spielberg film has been christened by this one. Away from the big moments, Spielberg and DP Allen Daviau aren't shirking their duties. The early shot of Elliot investigating his tool shed, with the dark house on the left and the bright shed on the right with a vast expanse of lawn separating the two is particularly striking, as is the later shot of a frail Elliot reflected in a biohazard mask. Spielberg's constant musical collaborator, John Williams, however, isn't doing his best work here. I would call E.T. overscored, even with its memorable theme. Movie music doesn't need to be playing, loudly, over every scene. I get what's happening, and don't need a harp to emotionally inform me.
On the acting front, Spielberg's giving himself a high degree of difficulty. He's placing most of the burden on child actors and that's always a tough proposition, but this is a mode he finds himself comfortable in. It's the rare, non-WWII related film of his that excludes children from the call sheet, and while young Christian Bale has probably given the best child performance in a Spielberg film, the young actors here are pretty good. The teen cronies mug a little bit at the end when they're flying, but the main trio of child actors each avoid that most unpardonable of sins, and they each communicate big emotions when they have to. The most important thing they have to sell is that I buy them as a unit, and I do.
E.T. has plenty of moments that work on me, and it holds up as a crowd-pleasing example of pop cinema from the burgeoning era of the blockbuster. I do wish E.T. acted more like the most advanced being on Earth that he is, but that would likely have been a very different movie. This is a pleasant, if disposable, film, and a B.
E.T.'s not the tightest script that Spielberg's worked with on a plot level, but I do think writer Melissa Mathison is getting the oft-more important emotion right. We're introduced to Elliot as he begs to be let into his big brother's game of Dungeons and Dragons, as succinct an exploration of their relationship and personalities as any. I expect this film to play very well with our members that come from parents who have been divorced, especially if they were kids when it happened. Spielberg himself is a child of divorce and I would imagine he and Mathison collaborated tightly on subtler scenes in this movie about an alien with a stretchy neck. The way the kids have to walk on eggshells around their mom, their capacity to really hurt her feelings, the way they step up without being told to, it all paints a picture of something that has been broken and E.T. functions as a uniting factor, or at worst, a distraction. The line between character and plot loses its tautness as the film goes on, as talk of the divorce effectively vanishes after E.T. falls ill, but as far as emotionally contextualizing the story, Spielberg and Mathison do effective work.
Spielberg's films contain dozens of iconic shots, and E.T. might contain some of the most memorable. Spielberg chose the image of E.T. and Elliot flying their bike across the moon as the symbol of Amblin Entertainment, his production studio, so every subsequent Spielberg film has been christened by this one. Away from the big moments, Spielberg and DP Allen Daviau aren't shirking their duties. The early shot of Elliot investigating his tool shed, with the dark house on the left and the bright shed on the right with a vast expanse of lawn separating the two is particularly striking, as is the later shot of a frail Elliot reflected in a biohazard mask. Spielberg's constant musical collaborator, John Williams, however, isn't doing his best work here. I would call E.T. overscored, even with its memorable theme. Movie music doesn't need to be playing, loudly, over every scene. I get what's happening, and don't need a harp to emotionally inform me.
On the acting front, Spielberg's giving himself a high degree of difficulty. He's placing most of the burden on child actors and that's always a tough proposition, but this is a mode he finds himself comfortable in. It's the rare, non-WWII related film of his that excludes children from the call sheet, and while young Christian Bale has probably given the best child performance in a Spielberg film, the young actors here are pretty good. The teen cronies mug a little bit at the end when they're flying, but the main trio of child actors each avoid that most unpardonable of sins, and they each communicate big emotions when they have to. The most important thing they have to sell is that I buy them as a unit, and I do.
E.T. has plenty of moments that work on me, and it holds up as a crowd-pleasing example of pop cinema from the burgeoning era of the blockbuster. I do wish E.T. acted more like the most advanced being on Earth that he is, but that would likely have been a very different movie. This is a pleasant, if disposable, film, and a B.
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