Walking into Super 8, viewers had little preparation. The trailers were tight lipped on details and showed only snippets of action sequences. A group of children making an amateur film accidentally catch a train crash of epic proportions on camera. There's an alien in the train. There's trouble.
The actual plot of the film doesn't elaborate much further than the suppositions garnered by the trailers. After witnessing the train crash--potentially one of the most awesome disaster sequences in a movie with exploding cars, tumbling debris, and teeth grating sound effects--Joe (charming newcomer Joel Courtney) and his ragtag group of would-be filmmakers keep their crash footage a secret and attempt to finish their movie on a backdrop of chaos and conspiracy as the military moves in to deal with the ramifications of the crash.
Writer/director J.J. Abrams captures his own nostalgia for childhood wonder and daring creativity. The cast of children is impeccable, with the bossy director Charles (Riley Griffiths) and Joe's crush, Alice (Elle Fanning). Fanning plays her part with impressive poise, cool with brief bouts of emotion that juxtapose beautifully with the timid earnestness of Courtney's Joe.
The dialogue is rich with childish jokes that make even the most mature in the audience chuckle, like when Cary (Ryan Lee), requests more fries "because my friend is a fat ass." Abrams is aware of the tendency of children to indulge in profanity, and every time Lee or one of the others says "shit" it is with the relish and glee that most can recall from childhood.
As a film about children, certainly Super 8 can be ranked (and already has been by many journalists and critics) with Goonies or Stand By Me. But Super 8 is not just a children's movie, and unfortunately, this is where the film starts to derail.
According to Abrams, the film originated as two different projects, then came together under the observance of Steven Spielberg, and the line dividing them is painfully obvious in the film. Aside from the train crash, the first three quarters of the film have the children and alien action completely segregated. This changes upon the big and painfully obvious reveal, and a conclusion that is both clunky and tired. Abrams, not necessarily one for complete subtlety but ever a master of finesse, seems dragged down by Spielberg's influence, as most of the film's scenes seem like they could have been clipped from Spielberg's oeuvre--E.T., Jurassic Park, etc. Most disappointing is the lack of creativity in the concept, as Abrams is generally boiling over with some masterful idea that permits lapses in judgement on character or pacing.
Notably, the film falls prey to marketing. Abrams himself played a large role in maintaining the secrecy surrounding the film and its components. The implication of such reticence on a project is that there is something big to reveal, some hidden discovery that is worth hiding. To discover that all of the caution tape and the confidential stamps are to mask a retelling of The Iron Giant is to feel duped, or misled into anticipation of something greater, more exciting.
Add to this that Abrams creates for himself a sticky situation by inserting a cast of children into a film starring a seemingly vicious alien. Anyone that has spent time in American movie theaters knows about the existing taboo in Hollywood about killing or injuring child characters. As a result, as the kids plunge from one dangerous situation to another, dodging alien attacks, tank fire and explosions, there is not a moment of suspense or adrenaline. We know they'll be fine. We know there's no danger at all. As far as danger goes, they might as well be frolicking in a meadow with a unicorn.
Certainly, lovers of Super 8 will combat such critiques by pointing out that Abrams, when describing the film to the LA Times, doesn't describe it as a monster movie but rather as being "about overcoming loss and finding your way again and finding your own voice." There are certainly hints of this here, but the film spends too much time on Joe's lackluster father, Jackson Lamb (Kyle Chandler) who serves little purpose in the film except to punctuate scenes with the children. Lamb's scenes regarding the loss of his wife end up feeling thin and superficial, and seem more like a distraction from the action and emotional progress of the film rather than a driving force.
Luckily, the film's aesthetic is powerful enough to distract from most of its issues. There can be no doubt about the gorgeous framing of shots, or the particularly careful details, like the fact that the army uniforms' text reading US AIR FORCE glow in the dark in one particularly suspenseful scene. In one of the film's most attractive scenes, Joe explores an underground space using a fire cracker, and his young face illuminated with the sparks glows with all the bravery and the nervous energy we miss from our own childhood.
While nostalgia goes a long way in powering a film, it's not enough. Super 8 is a powerhouse of childhood longing and top of the line individual components, but while the sum of its parts might add up to a super 8, the whole was more like a super 6.5.
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