Super 8 At 10: A Dilemma Of Originality

Before he directed his Star Wars movies, JJ Abrams brought something a little smaller and more intimate to the screen. But how has Super 8 held up?

JJ Abrams is arguably the quintessential blockbuster filmmaker of our age. His films are flashy, technically imaginative, and filled with likeable, peppy characters. He’s tuned in to what the audience wants and doesn’t want to see out of a story. His idea of narratives as a ‘mystery box’ has come under fire in recent years, but it has a solid idea behind it: a great way to compel the audience is by making them wonder how the story will answer questions, and become whole. He’s committed to satisfying, if not challenging, cinema.

And yet his filmography is lacking in original ideas. It’s not that he’s incapable of originality; his show Lost gripped viewers for years with its striking and confounding mystery, and as a producer he’s worked on a plethora of well-written shows and films. But a lot of his directorial work feels like it’s riffing on existing ideas. Plus, with two Star Trek and two Star Wars films and a Mission: Impossible sequel under his belt as director, he’s left with only one completely original idea, and the only one of his films that he’s the sole writer for.

That’d be Super 8.

Super 8 tells the story of a group of teenagers stumbling across an alien visitor, and the military conspiracy surrounding it. All after they witness a spectacular train crash while making a no-budget film in 1979 Ohio. Abrams’ accomplished directing skills, as well as his keen ability to pace a story, are on full display – but there’s the inescapable fact that Super 8 is completely indebted to other movies.

Our gang of scrappy, bickering kids are straight from The Goonies, and throughout the runtime toe the line between charming and annoying

In the decade since Super 8’s release, there’s been a glut of nostalgia-driven media like it. We’ve seen loads of 80s kids ride their bikes into supernatural adventures across sleepy American towns in Stranger Things and It. The retro stylisations of Super 8 are never subtle; there’s a fascination with film cameras, contemporary music cues, and one incredibly on-the-nose joke about the panic of marijuana corrupting the youth. But the fact these signifiers of a bygone era feel a bit jarring is a good thing. They’re isolated moments that never get in the way of the adventure story. Abrams pointedly sets the film in 1979, avoiding coating the film in the glossy, excessive 80s iconography of Stranger Things.

But other stories litter the world of Super 8, even if it’s set before its inspirations were released. Our gang of scrappy, bickering kids are straight from The Goonies, and throughout the runtime toe the line between charming and annoying. As the monster’s backstory is unravelled, and the kids find a way to understand its pain and fight to take control back from military forces, we’re starkly reminded of E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial. Even the film’s B-story, which has gruff small town deputy Jackson Lamb (Kyle Chandler) frustrated that higher ups are calling the shots as he tries to calm a panicked town, is Jaws to a tee. It’ll come as no surprise that Super 8 was produced by Steven Spielberg.

Abrams even works into the film a self-reflexive acknowledgment of him lifting from other stories. The child protagonists are filmmakers making a low-rent George Romero zombie ripoff, using the crash site and subsequent military presence for ‘production value’. It’s a highlight of the film because it’s so charming, especially with how seriously the director Charles (Riley Griffiths) takes what is in effect a ridiculous project (the credits sequence shows the completed film in all its glory).

But is Super 8 a stronger film just because Abrams is aware of its lack of originality?

Abrams works into the film a self-reflexive acknowledgment of him lifting from other stories

Originality, of course, isn’t a necessary ingredient for a great film. Many classic films are celebrated not because of their ingenuity of story, but the creativity of their execution. A lack of original story or characters may put a limit on how daring the final film will be, but Abrams has proven on many occasions he knows how to excite an audience. Super 8 is knowingly a nostalgic story, other narrative archetypes and tropes are bound to make an appearance.

Originality is not so much a problem too if a filmmaker can elevate the familiar beats with genuine, compelling emotion. If pulled off well, it doesn’t matter that we’ve seen it before; the strong pull of feelings convinces us we’re on a novel, fresh journey. Building empathetic bridges to characters and exploring emotional arcs should always take priority over plotting.

Paramount Pictures, 2011 

Abrams knows this, but in his attempts to achieve it, I’d suggest that problems arise.

Super 8 is ostensibly a story about healing from grief, how trauma and guilt can divide us from one another, and how understanding others can make us whole. Joe (Joel Courtney), who supplies make-up and effects for Charles’ film, has recently lost his mother in a workplace accident, and a gulf has appeared between him and his father, Jackson.

Super 8 is ostensibly a story about healing from grief, how trauma and guilt can divide us from one another

Joe falls for older girl Alice Dainard (Elle Fanning), but is prohibited from seeing her as her father, Louis (Ron Eldard), was too drunk to take the shift that Joe’s mother covered on the day of her death.

In a thematically Spielbergian turn, Super 8 has a fascination with fathers, and the line between resentment and forgiveness is blurred as people confront their own faults and prejudices in a highly pressurised situation.

The bikes used by the main characters in Super 8

The drama is all there, but Abrams isn’t a subtle writer. At points, it can feel a touch melodramatic, and while the young actors do a terrific job, there’s still a mawkish, manipulative quality to the emotional journeys the characters take. In and of itself, sentimentality isn’t bad for a film trying to capture childlike wonder at the fantastical. E.T. is dripping in sentiment, and yet still manages to be a compelling drama. The main difference, and where I’d suggest Super 8 falters, is in how the narrative is focused.

Super 8 has to dial up the sentiment, not because it’s appropriate for the story, but because the surrounding monster mystery is more over-the-top, arguably threatening to overwhelm the interpersonal drama. Abrams seemingly can’t help himself from flexing his blockbuster muscles when a quieter approach to the story might have worked better.

The problem isn’t that Abrams can’t tell an original story, it’s that he struggles to tell a small one

This is shown most clearly in the story’s inciting incident: an explosive, chaotic train crash filled with overblown CGI and heightened action that looks comical when we cut back to the group of terrified 12-year-olds at its centre.

There are ways to raise the stakes without diminishing our characters’ agency. In E.T., when the government agents swarm Elliott’s house and the narrative control is taken out of his hands, the main tension remains with a laser-guided focus – we’re scared that Elliott won’t be able to help and protect his alien friend.

Paramount Pictures, 2011

This drama is how we access all the larger elements of the story, but in Super 8 we can’t help feeling that Joe’s journey of healing is disconnected from the army versus alien storyline, the latter of which keeps getting bigger and bigger when the former perhaps should be getting smaller and more intimate. Our emotional attachment to these characters is progressively undermined by Abrams failing to restrain himself from telling the story in the most dynamic way possible. The problem isn’t that Abrams can’t tell an original story, it’s that he struggles to tell a small one.

Like all of Abrams’ work, there’s great energy, potent visual storytelling, and a clear understanding of eye-catching shot composition. Compared to his other films, the problems are much less pronounced here too – mainly because it’s such a personal film. If a film is to be flawed, you want it to be a personal project, one that reflects how messy humans can be when they’re passionate about something. You never feel like Super 8 isn’t a labour of love.

Abrams’ three films since Super 8 have all been increasingly large franchise pieces, and it might just be time to look at an original project next, hopefully one that will build on his potential to craft compelling character drama. Ten years on, Super 8 is a flawed but charming outlier in a bombastic filmography, a clash of personal and impersonal filmmaking, and proof that stories don’t have to strike us as original to be great, they just have to strike us as real.