Reclaiming the Past

At various points throughout Super 8 I asked myself, "Is this movie better than E.T.?"

Where E.T. – The Extra-Terrestrial was my childhood world in real-time, Super 8 was still just a recreation of my youth through the clever use of childhood artifacts. That's not to say Super 8 is derivative. An homage? Yes. A love letter to the imprint Spielberg left on our collective childhood? Absolutely. But it stands on its own, rarely trying to be too clever; trading on its 1979 authenticity for a cheap nod-and-wink only once with some brief, non-essential (and unfortunately anachronistic) dialog about the Walkman.

With Super 8, writer-director J.J. Abrams has reclaimed the ’70s. Not as the camp joke it has become in our shared memory through disco, bell-bottoms, and That ’70s Show, but as it really felt when we were living it, unassumingly woven into the fabric of everyday lives.

From start to finish, Super 8 enveloped me. I knew the smell of Joe’s bedroom and the feel of Charles’ family’s kitchen. The familiarity of small town Ohio and the freedom of spending summer on your bike were as tangible here as they were my everyday reality 30 years ago. Abrams somehow captured the wonder of a late ’70s Midwestern childhood, fused it with Spielbergian tropes (like a single-parent household and extra-terrestrial elements), and came up with something so authentic, so genuine, it transcends the sentimental.

So, is Super 8 better than E.T.? I can only seem to answer the question this way: E.T. was the perfect movie for 11 year-old me, just as Super 8 – cut from the same cloth in terms of story, tone, and execution – is the perfect version of E.T. for 40 year-old me.

When the credits began to roll at the end of Super 8, Tracy turned to me and said, "That was awesome." Plastered to my theater seat with a nostalgic lump in my throat, I knew what she meant.

Perfect

Midday yesterday I tweeted that it was "Pretty much a perfect day so far."

Tracy and I took the day off work to hang out with the kiddo and my oldest son, Mikee, who's been visiting this week.

We went out for a late breakfast at First Watch, and while there Tracy and I ordered tickets to take my father-in-law to go see Tony Bennett this Fall.

Then it was off to the Cuyahoga Valley National Park, where we spent a few hours of the gorgeous day marveling at the Blue Heron rookery and hiking the Ledges, the Octagon, and Brandywine Falls. Refreshingly cool under the canopy of trees and among rock formations that were moved into place by glaciers hundreds of thousands of years ago, we couldn’t have asked for better weather.

Country Maid Ice Cream was all that we needed for lunch – kid’s-sized chocolate peanut butter scoop in a cake cone, thankyouverymuch!

We made a couple of stops on the way back to the house, and I snuck in a quick nap while everyone was getting cleaned up for dinner and the evening.

Then it was fabulous sushi at House of Hunan on the square in Medina that was accidentally but perfectly timed with getting to the theater in time for the 6:40 screening of Super 8.

After the movie, the boys discovered the Star Wars marathon on Spike, while Tracy wrapped some Father's Day gifts, and I began capturing my thoughts on seeing Next to Normal the night before and Super 8 that night.

Yesterday felt like a whole weekend in one day, but never rushed or over-planned. We rolled with each other and the weather and were rewarded with a perfect day. They can't all be, but yesterday was.