"★ ★ ★ ★ ★"
Just a little while before Star Wars swept into into everyone's imagination and became a massive pop culture phenomenon, director George Lucas had an idea of capturing a "moment" in America that centered on the lives of youths as they prepared for the next chapter in their young lives. His idea of this snapshot of nostalgia would take us back into a past-time where we could observe an ensemble of characters interact and live out their last bits of innocence before entering the zone of complex, adulthood.
We have one single night -- packed to the brim with cars, rock 'n roll, booze, and babes -- basically an adolescents dream come true. At the center of the film, Steve (Ron Howard) and Curt (Richard Dreyfuss) are graduated high school seniors who have their sights set on college and a life outside of this 'ol town where nothing new ever seems happen. The two best friends, though, have their own personal issues to sort out before they move further into deeper territory; Steve is having trouble letting go of his girlfriend Laurie (Cindy Williams) as they are being geographically ripped apart. He suggests that "seeing other people" will help them grow as a couple, while she remains hesitant about such an idea. At the same time Curt is having serious reservations about leaving and going off to a whole new world, and leaving everything innocent behind. Filling up the remainder of the film are other youths including the stereotypical geek, the ditz, and the rebel -- each bearing there own individual threads within
American Graffiti's multi-thread ensemble narrative. All having their own story which ties in with the main themes.
The film is one of the first that constructed the "teen" and "coming-of-age" genre that's still very actively popular even today; the kind of film that usually explores and observes the "realism" of what there characters are experiencing and how the how's and why's of it all. Going into
American Graffiti, I held my optimism close and had high expectations, mostly based off of the film's popularity, rave reviews, and it's status as one of the greatest and most respected films of all time. My reaction; well, let's just say that all of the expectations had been dropped with a thud
long before the finale. Instead of viewing the masterpiece everyone else had obviously seen (and enjoyed), I saw a misguided, disappointing, and almost nearly artificial mess in nearly every respect.
My problems with the movie come in spades, but are mostly linked back to Mr. George Lucas and for a couple of big reasons. A director largely known for his technical achievements, Lucas never truly had a way with humans -- as in actors/characters within his films. His lack of skill for writing and sketching characters (not epic battle sequences) and the dialogue they speak is on full display here, and it very nearly murders this movie. In a movie that is almost character-driven, the main goal is to give the people some sort of engaging or layered characterization for a sturdy foundation (on the page) from them to build from, but here (as usual) Lucas seems more interested his work
with the camera and not what's happening in front of it. It's something that diminished his three prequel films in the
Star Wars series, and a reason why the "force" left him years ago.
It's not so much a show of incompetence by any real means, but rather a seriously shaky handle on material which had some real potential from the get-go. This misfiring finds its way into the direction of the central narrative which plays it too safe, too low-key, and too boring. I personally love films that confine it's narrative to a single night/day, where everything seems more gripping and engaging, but Lucas' direction and script feel incredibly dull and flat-footed that there's little excitement or freshness resonating from it. Whether the characters are at a dance, riding in their cars, getting into fights, or being a bit naughty, I never felt any true genuine depth or reasoning for these events to happen. They just happen. And they go along to a pace that drags and misses any air of wit, briskness, and verve to keep things bouncing steadily. The narrative's first half has
something akin to all of which it lacks (in flashes mind you), but when the second half trudges around it takes a nasty nose-dive into pure stupidity. Instead of rescuing the plot and the characters to give them a feel of some kind of revelation or depth, everything becomes all the more muddy and doesn't even have an arc. Not or the individual characters, nor for the narrative, and everything just stops with little insight on how or why. When the characters should have been experiencing something profound/life-changing or some sort of an emotional journey (which would have provided them with a character arc), they never grow or change a bit.
Yet, I do put half the blame on the actors in their respective roles, as it is also there job to create believable and plausible characterizations even when the script they have to work with lets them down. The biggest "let down" in the acting department is all thanks to Ron(nny) Howard's horrible performance as Steve. There's a reason why Howard left the screen to pursue a spotty directing career behind the camera, and this performance is valid evidence for anyone who's left wondering. His portrayal of Steve is disjointed, bland, and emotionally vacuous in scene after scene. He literally walks through the movie along with Richard Dreyfuss, and Cindy Williams giving a strained and tiring performance as Laurie. Dreyfuss fairs the best out of that lead-trio, but he seems just as lost in the (not-so-complex) role as the others do. I must now unfortunately acknowledge the film's sole Oscar-nominated performance given by Candy Clark -- as Debbie, the blonde ditz with a head full of bubbles, Clark is given a simple character -- but her performance actually degrades the simplicity into the ground. When she should be sexy, hilarious, fun, and bursting with energy, Clark is as uninspired as her surroundings. I was hoping (because of the nomination) that Clark might elevate the role beyond stock cliches; to build some kind of emotional architecture into the character to convey her desperation and her growth out of it over the course of the night -- well, none of that happened. She could have gave depth and dimension to the thin role, but I didn't spot any true humanity or shading in her work. Click
here for my full review of her performance.
But -- the one element that truly transcends
American Graffiti is the unexpected performance given by Mackenzie Philips. As the precocious Carol, Philips spins gold from coal the minute she jumps into John Milner's hot ride and joins him for a night of fun on the town. Her every moment on screen feels fresh and unpredictable, and she infuses the role uncommon with gusto, poignancy, and humor that the rest of the film simply extended to. Her narrative thread is by far the most interesting and fun, and she actually crafts a simple yet enduring character arc of a person who feels lonely and neglected, to one who finds friendship and acceptance by someone she grows to truly appreciate and enjoy. Her characterization is both luminously sweet and humane, provides American Graffiti with its only nuanced, emotional depth and genuine character portrayal by far. Hard to believe Oscar overlooked her in favor of silly fluff.
