Super Deflation

Spielberg’s anywhere USA, the signature Mid-West suburb, appeals to most moviegoers. It’s the cinematic white picket fence or the generic accent-less radio voice. It offers the easily consumable wares of comforting predictability, generational nostalgia and wholesome sentimentality. But the rushed final moments of the faux sci-fi mystery Super 8 void the film of meaning and derail an otherwise credible summer hit.

The principal conflict is an internal one: Joe Lamb misses his mother. He overcomes sorrow by focusing his energy on hobbies, such as model making. He also finds solace in his friends, who he assists as they scramble to prepare a submission for a film contest. But when Alice Dainard wins his attention, Joe recognizes that what he misses isn’t necessarily his mother but a compassionate presence in his life. Not so much a maternal guide as a supportive counterbalance to the blandness of school and the boyish energy of his peers. Most importantly, Joe craves kindness, a healthy dose of which his father withholds.

Jackson Lamb serves the people of Lillian, Ohio but neglects his responsibilities as a sympathetic parent. Initially, he hopes to ship Joe off to a summer camp, away from a familiar social circle. Later, overcome with disappointment in himself and in his son, frustrated by the stresses of law enforcement, Jackson flat out orders Joe to ignore his friends and to shun Alice. “She’s nice!” Joe screams, for the first time revealing an assertive teenager as opposed a moonstruck mourner, but Jackson doesn’t give a damn, preferring to further alienate his troubled son with demands stemming from an irrelevant personal feud with Alice’s father. An overburdened police officer, and a frightfully incompetent parent, becomes the obstacle to the resolution (love) of the principal conflict (death).

So how is this simple, universal and yet profound, question answered? Jackson repeats “I got you” a few times and Joe lets go of his mother’s locket. There are not enough synonyms for the word cliché, especially one so forced. Super 8 is a drawn-out two act movie in which the crucial third never materializes. Jackson does not “get” his son in any literal or metaphorical sense. He never did and other than his three worded attempt at reconciliation there’s no reason to believe that he will. Joe discerns where Alice is, Joe embarks on a dangerous mission to find her and ultimately, with the help of his friends, Joe reunites with the damsel in distress. For his father to arbitrarily show up and assume a protective posture, given his past behavior and relative absence, is not only too forgiving, it’s insulting.

But what’s truly offensive about the ending is how it absolves Louis Dainard. In addition to an attempted alienation of his daughter by forbidding social interaction, Louis also orders her to shun Joe due to his feud with Jackson. Apart from the moral dilemma facing the two parents, it’s certainly rash for them to drag their children into the standoff and while Jackson Lamb is merely a detached father, Louis Dainard is, in numerous ways, abusive. Louis, the unkempt, alcoholic, ex-con is one of those people who always have to be in control. Unfortunately, to satisfy his power trips, Louis takes aim at his daughter. He looms over her, imposing his will through physical intimidation. Finally unable to cope, Alice runs away in the middle of the night, at which point Louis yells the movie’s best line in a drunken fury. “Yeah, that’s it! Leave! Just like your mother!” The despondence of this statement defines his character. A pathetic guilt trap meant to convince his daughter to return is a window into his naive expectations. The following scene, in which Louis revs up his tough-guy muscle car as he chases Alice down the street, is a perfect depiction of their relationship.

So what does Louis do in order to earn Alice’s forgiveness? Nothing. There isn’t even a second “I got you” moment. Louis doesn’t have to say a word before Alice willingly hugs him. The villain effortlessly finds redemption just moments after the honorable Sheriff dies. Why? There is no reason to believe that the hardened criminal will mature as a man or as a father. Perhaps if the script included some semblance of falling action, the conclusion would not deserve an exaggerated eye-roll and a curse towards Tinseltown’s urge to please. Such illogical character development can only be the result of too many suits in the room. They’ve “got you,” JJ, they’ve “got you.”