My Favorite Movie

Image copyright Universal Studios, Lucasfilm and The Coppola Company

First of all, be forewarned that this post runs a little long.  It’s my last one; indulge me.

This is my 20th and final film review for The Quad, and I want to go out on a positive note.  As fun as it is to bust on bad movies, sometimes I can’t help but feel guilty when I imagine a hypothetical dewy-eyed filmgoer who really enjoyed, say, “Avatar,” and doesn’t understand why us big bad Critics have to be such grouchy killjoys about it.  So this post will focus on a movie for which I have nothing but love, and which I cite whenever someone asks me, “Oh, you’re a Film major–what’s your favorite movie?”  This post is about “American Graffiti,” the movie that put George Lucas on the pop cultural map three years before “Star Wars.”

Of course, anyone who regards himself as a film buff has to view the very concept of a “favorite movie” with suspicion, and it’s true that there are other films which might have equally legitimate claims to my heart–John Carpenter’s “Halloween,” for example, or “Cemetery Man,” or even “Ferris Bueller’s Day Off.”  Or, perhaps more to the point, “Star Wars”–can I really say that “American Graffiti” is better than a movie I was able to quote line for line when I was eleven?  Honestly, I’m not sure, but the fact that I even have to think about it should give you an idea of how impressive “Graffiti” is.

The story takes place in 1962 and follows four recent high school graduates over the course of one long August night.  Each one of the leads faces his own personal crisis: Curt (Richard Dreyfuss) is supposed to be leaving for college the next day but isn’t sure he wants to go; Steve (Ron Howard), also college-bound, has to iron out the terms of his relationship with his girlfriend Laurie (Cindy Williams); John (Paul Le Mat), known for his hot rod racing skills, has to face down a brash newcomer (Harrison Ford!); and Terry the Toad (Charles Martin Smith) borrows Steve’s car and attempts to escape his reputation as a hopeless nerd.

Image copyright Universal Studios, Lucasfilm and The Coppola Company

This type of story has been re-used in films like “Dazed and Confused,” “Can’t Hardly Wait” and “Superbad.”  But “Graffiti” wasn’t just the first of its kind; it’s also, still, the best.  For one thing, it’s hilarious.  Every actor gets to deliver at least a few quote-worthy lines, and the cast is up to the challenge; one of my favorite moments is when a teenage girl yells out “Your car’s uglier than I am!”, then sheepishly mutters, “That didn’t come out right.”  And don’t be misled by the stereotypically uptight era in which the movie takes place–the screenplay, by Lucas, Gloria Katz and Willard Huyck, is in tune with the vulgar messiness of young people’s lives.  The characters drink, smoke, swear and have sex (or talk about it a lot, at least).  There’s even a minors-buying-alcohol scene that rivals “Superbad”‘s.  (“I lost my ID in…  In a flood…”)  This isn’t exactly “Happy Days,” despite what the presence of Ron Howard might lead you to believe.

The film is a treat on a technical level as well.  The cinematography is unassumingly beautiful; it’s grainy and realistic, yet still captures the ghostly wonder of streetlights gleaming off the hulls of ’60s automobiles.  I’ll forgive the truly awful attempts at day-for-night–nobody’s perfect, after all.  Even more important than the cinematography is the soundtrack, which is a veritable non-stop parade of doo-wop and rock ‘n’ roll hits from the ’50s and ’60s.  (Elvis is the only conspicuous omission, his recordings having been too rich for the producers’ blood.)  The songs emanate from gymnasium speakers, radios, and most of all car stereos.  When the music stops, the task of emphasizing dramatic tension ironically falls to conventional sound effects, as when a chorus of animal noises rises to a cacophony during a tense walk through the forest.

What really makes “American Graffiti” great, though, is that all of these elements–the coming-of-age-over-the-course-of-one-night structure, the performances, the visuals, the music–function in support of a tone that perfectly balances carefree fun with a sense of melancholy and loss.  The characters spend plenty of time getting burgers at Mel’s Diner and doing the Stroll at the freshman dance, but they also wander alone through the halls of their old high school, or through a darkened local junkyard, unable to ignore the fact that the world they know is slipping away.  Just as the night depicted in the movie is, for some of the characters, the last night in town, 1962 was the baby boomer generation’s last gasp before the ’60s kicked into gear with the Kennedy assassination, the arrival of the Beatles, Vietnam, etc.  However, the knowledge of this impending loss of innocence doesn’t undermine but rather deepens the film’s sense of unrestrained joy.  You appreciate the good times all the more when you know they have to come to an end.

Speaking of which, I’d like to thank you for your readership.  I’ve had a good time writing for the Quad, and I hope you’ve had a good time reading my reviews.  If you’re interested in keeping up with my work (BLATANT PLUG ALERT), you can follow me at twitter.com/mjrhoff.  Finally, my blessings to Monica Castillo, and to whoever else takes up the mantle of Quad film criticism.  May the right words be always at your fingertips.

Now go watch “American Graffiti.”

About Matt Hoffman

Matt Hoffman (COM/CAS '10) is a film writer for the Quad, and is currently majoring in Film and International Relations at BU. His writing can also be found at Pegleg Spinners, Super Tuesdays and Mania.com. He grew up in Connecticut and is not a pro BMX biker.

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