In the doc that precedes the 40th anniversary release, director Denis Villeneuve suggests the movie is a personal one for Spielberg beyond his obvious fascination with the material. He says the movie is about movie-making too, which struck me as a little trite – and cliche – in the moment. I mean, how many directors and their films has this been/could it be said about?

And yet, watching this time, I was struck by Roy Neary's journey from blue-collar electric lineman to obsessed artist, chasing the perfect representation of his vision regardless of how it alienates him from his family, friends, and co-workers – all of society, really. I never gave it a second thought before, but it's notable that…

Oof, I'm ready for the blow back. Guys, gals, I really did not enjoy "Close Encounters." It was way too long, kind of boring, and the story is nearly nonexistent. What's going on here? Richard Dreyfuss is visited by aliens, goes crazy, and abandons his family to party with outer space little people. This is a timeless family classic?

There is some stuff I enjoyed, like the scene in Dreyfuss's car when he first is visited by the aliens, the mashed potatoes "This means something" scene, and the visual effects throughout the whole climax. But the rest of it... eh.

I didn't think there was any internal logic to the movie nor were the characters motivated by anything other than…

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(35mm, Director's Cut)

If Jaws was the rise of the commercial blockbuster - albeit one with sharp, savage technical bravura and small character dynamics - then Close Encounters was the setting sun of abstract, sprawling, experimental science-fiction. Spielberg's trademarks are all here in abundance (crumbling family units, cross-talking, sustained sequences of suspense) but the focus in this 1977 classic is primarily one of sculpture and confrontation, engagement and rapport. Spielberg communicates through universal methods of information - TVs, radio signals, air traffic controllers etc. - but deliberately keeps Roy in the dark to fend for his own journey, one formed via artistic creation and sculpting of visions and flashes of inspiration. Much of Close Encounters is hinged on the…

What makes this science-fiction drama/conspiracy-thriller so special and poetic is that you can watch it as a kid (like I did) and simply go oh hell yeah UFOs are REAL and the government is LYING to us and we should go on an adventure to prove that there are cool little mischievous alien guys out there, and the movie is immaculately crafted (shoutout Vilmos Zsigmond, Douglas Trumbull + John Williams) in order to work on that exciting and satisfying genre movie level. But then you return to it as an adult and it is first and foremost a domestic horror film; one of the most heart-wrenching depictions of a family unit and home in the process of breaking down.

A…

“He says the sun came out last night. He says it sang to him.”

In a scene toward the end of William Wyler’s The Best Years of Our Lives, a film boldly confronting some painful realities of war decades before it was fashionable, an unemployed and unemployable veteran bombardier, played by Dana Andrews, finds himself wandering through a graveyard of B-17 bombers. Seating himself in the nose of a gutted warplane, he remembers the sensation of the engines starting before the aircraft taxis for take off; a feat Wyler achieves with remarkable efficiency through the use of score, camera movement and the audience’s imagination.

Key to this sequence is a tracking shot that evokes the sensation of the dead B-17…