History of the Modern Blockbuster: The Last Quarter Century, Part II -- A Trip to the Moon

The 1980s was a period of radical, turbulent change. It was an era of teenage stories from John Hughes, machismo action from the likes of Arnold Schwarzenegger and Sylvester Stallone, time-traveling DeLoreons, music videos on MTV, dark fantasy adventures, inspirational sports movies, and a landmark DC superhero. This was, perhaps more than any other decade, a time of youth-oriented and/or thrill-seeking escapism at the movies.

Long before the Marvel Cinematic Universe, George Lucas initially conceived Star Wars as an ambitious and epic story. He eventually decided to focus on "the first act," in the hopes of telling the other "episodes" down the road. Sure enough, the first film (subsequently known as Star Wars: Episode IV--A New Hope) was a massive hit, and paved the way for the aforementioned installments. (It is curious, however, why Lucas began with episodes numbered IV, V, and VI, respectfully.)

Late film critics Gene Siskel & Roger Ebert believed that 1980's The Empire Strikes Back established and cemented Star Wars as a successful franchise. In retrospect, many declare this second entry as the best in the franchise's canon--and agreeably so. With strong character arcs and developments (Han and Leia's relationship dynamic, Luke's jedi training, Yoda's wisdom, Lando Calrissian's history with Han Solo), improved effects (Imperial walkers, anybody?), and a shocking anticlimax involving the backstory of Darth Vader, Empire set a tentpole for sequels (or middle chapters, in the case of trilogies), with more complex themes, intense action, and challenging emotional dilemmas.

Do, or do not. There is no try.

~Yoda

1983's Return of the Jedi concluded the original trilogy in 1983. Despite being declared the weakest entry (with a more kid-friendly, and possible consumer-driven, approach), it was nevertheless a satisfying roller-coaster, as well as a noble end to Luke Skywalker's "hero's journey". Audiences and critics assumed this was the end of the series, aside from a spinoff TV series ("Ewoks") and reissues of all three films in the late Nineties. It was also famously parodied (along with all things sci-fi) by funnyman Mel Brooks in the 1987 cult comedy Spaceballs, which Lucas permitted with the sole condition that no merchandise be developed from the movie.

(l-r) Steven Spielberg, R2-D2, and George Lucas in the 1980s

A Match Made at the Movies
Lucas, meanwhile, collaborated with Steven Spielberg on several blockbuster hits throughout the decade, particularly the Indiana Jones films (an original creation of Lucas, centered on an alternate James Bond-esque archeologist), beginning with 1981's Raiders of the Lost Ark, which further cemented Harrison Ford's career in the process. In fact, both Lucas and Spielberg became known for paying homage to the spirit of 1940s serials for both Star Wars and Indiana Jones, in terms of reviving old-fashioned adventures for contemporary (more sophisticated) audiences.

The same went for Spielberg's collaborations with directors Richard Donner (1985's The Goonies), Robert Zemeckis (1985's Back to the Future, 1988's Who Framed Roger Rabbit), and animator Don Bluth (1986's An American Tale, 1988's The Land Before Time). Lucas and Spielberg even received their fair share of criticisms, compared with the transitions in Hollywood and audience's evolving and ever-changing tastes in entertainment.

That being said, this may have also been the last decade where moviegoing bridged a generational gap between young and old, where themes and ideas were more sincere, compared to many of the (pardon me for being candid) hip-centered trends that pervaded the proceeding era. Not to say there weren't any significant revolutions in the Nineties, as I'll mention in my next post.

In a way, it seems fitting (and remarkable) that the most universally- and financially-successful film that attracted young and old in the 1980s was Steven Spielberg's story of a simple yet unexpected friendship between a young suburban boy and a lonely alien from another world.

To the Moon and Back
E.T.: The Extra-Terrestrial follows a family affected and damaged by divorce (a personal theme for Spielberg), until a special visitor changes their lives (especially young Elliot), helping them rediscover a sense of "home" and what it means to feel for others.

Released in 1982, and during a time when family films weren't the box-office norm (least of all, Disney), E.T. bridged a gap in genre-defining cinema between generations of moviegoers, much the same way Star Wars did five years prior. As a science-fiction adventure, a coming-of-age fantasy, and a remembrance of childhood innocence, this is craft, artistry, and pathos rarely found in such films. Some would call it wonder and enchantment of a different sort, from a child's point of view.

As evidenced by unanimous acclaim from special screenings at the Cannes Film Festival and at the White House that year, E.T. transcended its contemporary America setting. For instance, the opening and closing sequences of the film are reminiscent of a silent picture, as John Williams' incredible score plays like a symphony. And that famous bike chase? Boy, they don't make 'em like they used to! (To me, this is the only film of that era to showcase effective and exciting bike sequences, next to 1979's Breaking Away).

It's interesting how this movie is less special-effects-driven and (like Jaws) more emotion- and character-focused. Although, its practical effects, particularly Carlo Rambaldi's irreplaceable designs for the lovable creature (especially when he's wearing a blue plaid shirt), still remarkably hold up. What children and audiences remember, most of all, is how E.T. made them feel, how it touched them. (The tagline, in fact, reads, "The story that touched the world.")

Thanks to Spielberg's direction, the late Melissa Mathison's script, the genuine performances of the child actors (including Henry Thomas and Drew Barrymore), and Williams' aforementioned music, E.T. is a cinematic experience that is mysterious and thrilling as it is emotional. By the early 1990s, audiences would be reminded why Universal Pictures was one of the greatest (if not the greatest) motion picture studio(s) in history. And it would partially be thanks to "an adventure 65 million years in the making."