Dear, Close Encounters of the Third Kind
Steven Spielberg’s, Close Encounters of the Third Kind is, for me, the perfect combination of that which the filmmaker has spent his illustrious career exploring: a sense of childlike wonder and awe— mingling the ordinary with the extraordinary, and attempting to understand the complicated realities and manifestations of hurt, disappointment, and desire stemming from the flaws of the real world and those who inhabit it. From the dinosaur obsessed kid speaking the prehistoric beasts into existence with some technical know-how and generous scientific enginuity, to the lonely introspective kid longing for companionship with someone (or something) as self-searching and independent as he is, all the way to the kid… or maybe the adult, who’s combination of intrigue and unabashed terror of what lies beneath, yields a mass influx to the theatres and mass exodus from the waters that house the great white, Spielberg’s personality shines in his art. Furthermore, Spielberg is the artist grappling with evil and the danger of the world, superimposing such heartache on his protagonists. The drifter coping with the wounds that fractured families leave in their wake. Each of these qualities have come to define what has made and continues to make Spielberg such a beloved figure in film history. And for all his accomplishments in a nearly five-decade career, Spielberg’s third film made for the big screen just might stand tallest.
The entire visual experience of this film lives up to its ambitious aims. Romantic in its visual representation of the unknown, it’s no wonder Roy (Richard Dreyfuss) loses control. Coming back to this film time and again, you begin to realize the effect it has as a visual piece of art. It is not that it is flawless, even if cutting edge for the time (or any time for that matter). Nor is it a portrait so breathtaking and transcendent that you forget you’re watching a movie. Rather, the proficiency lies in crafting a visual experience as if taken directly from a REM sleep dream. This is exemplified nowhere greater than the film’s conclusion. John William’s always iconic work paired with Douglus Trumbull (visual affects) and the team, makes for a truly mesmerizing and unforgettable third act. One that will leave you delightfully pondering while mid commute on some country road— what lies a top that mountain/hill off in the distance? One that strikes the perfect balance between realism and fantasy. Crisp and believable in its presentation yet equally eerie and mysterious, creating a one-of-a-kind dreamlike quality that such an extraterrestrial encounter would undoubtably produce.
If not sold on visual experience alone, viewers can find richness and quality within character and theme just as easily. Spielberg’s trick as overseer is stirring our hearts with empathy for a protagonist who doesn’t necessarily merit it by his actions. The film’s thesis surely is not to abandon responsibility in pursuit of wonder, but perhaps to hyperbolize a longing that is so deep and instinctual that it points towards something otherworldly— like a tidal wave the strength of which is difficult to articulate but painfully evident by the destruction it causes. If not a wholesome thought exercise on gazing up at the heavens in an act of humility, Spielberg’s exploration into the supernatural could serve as an admission of personal imperfection and the complicated desire to escape for those who’s burden is heavy with the mundanity of the domestic experience. Neither an aggressive condemnation nor a clear absolution, the film speaks to us all through Roy’s humanity, triumphs and shortcomings alike. A nuanced depiction of character that proves Spielberg an artist worthy of his reputation.
To Close Encounters, Mr. Spielberg and all who had a hand in the film, thank you.
Sincerely,
movie lovers everywhere
Sources: Letterboxd, IMDb
Film: Close Encounters of the Third Kind
Release Year: 1977
Director: Steven Spielberg
Production: Columbia Pictures, EMI Films, Julia Phillips and Michael Phillips Productions