Strange goings-on in the late 1970s lead a band of middle-school boys (and their token girl) to uncover the alien conspiracy lurking in the midst of a sleepy American town. No, this is not Stranger Things, although nostalgia and emotional resonance abound.
Before the Netflix series came to define retro horror sci-fi, genre titans J.J. Abrams and Steven Spielberg teamed up to create a movie that hit many of the same notes that made Stranger Things so successful. With a modest domestic gross profit and muted, if generally favorable, critical reception, 2011’s Super 8 might have been a roadmap for the Duffer Brothers…but it should have also been a cautionary tale.
Super 8 begins with a community rocked by tragedy: main character Joe Lamb (Joel Courtney) has just lost his mother in a factory accident that deeply affected the entire town. His father, Sheriff’s Deputy Jackson Lamb (Kyle Chandler), is also dealing with that fresh grief — and struggling to connect with his son in the wake of it. But the strange government lab that is also (for some reason) located in the town is about to provide adequate distraction for both father and son, in the form of an escaped alien. Deputy Jackson becomes absorbed in the strange canine and electrical phenomena causing a nuisance for the other townsfolk, while Joe experiences a Stephen-King-esque inciting incident that turns his friend group’s amateur film into real life sci-fi horror. Father and son follow their respective mysteries, but both paths lead back to the same alien — and lead them to each other, offering the prospect to heal from their bereavement.
The film that Joe and his friends are shooting is not incidental in this story. In fact, it is the syntactic kernel of Super 8’s thorough appeals to the audience’s nostalgia. The retro references in the film are more than just images and sounds: the film is constructed around a retro medium. It echoes Abrams’s own experiences entering competitions shooting on Super 8 film, with a retro narrative; it echoes the movies (chiefly E.T. and Close Encounters of the Third Kind) that defined Spielberg’s authorship in the first decade of his career. The movie Joe and his friends are shooting is a token built into the structure of Super 8, and serves as a constant narrative reminder of what the story is trying to evoke.
After the thick layer of nostalgia-baiting, the second most significant parallel between Super 8 and Stranger Things is the core group of friends that surround its protagonist. The two groups are very different in details — for instance, Mike and his friends form an ensemble, whereas Joe’s friends function more as a supporting cast — but there is an essential sameness of function and dynamic. This is a gang of nerdy middle-school boys (and one girl) whose parents’ absenteeism facilitates outsized adventures. But Mike, Lucas, Dustin, Will, and El tend to veer into the serious, effectively presenting to the audience as small adults, speaking with the voices of adult writers, to adult viewers. Meanwhile, Joe et al. fully inhabit the age group of their characters.
The result is a delight to watch — a celebration of the cusp between childhood and adulthood, rather than a recollection of that period through the rosy lens of maturity. Contrast, for example, Will’s commitment to “Should I Stay Or Should I Go” as a security blanket with Joe and his friends sitting on a curb together, unselfconsciously singing “My Sharona.” The former song doubles as a badge of Will’s otherness, while the latter expresses the cultural awareness that is always pervasive among youth. One is mnemonic of a child’s powerlessness; the other is a testament to childhood frivolity. The difference is more than just a feeling — it is the difference between how adults view children and how children view themselves.
The most provocative difference, however, between Super 8 and Stranger Things is their most basic element: Super 8 is a movie, and Stranger Things is a TV show. The comparatively short runtime is an advantage for Super 8, which excels by keeping its mystery lean and completing its emotional arc. J.J. Abrams practically pioneered the mystery box formula which Stranger Things employs — but his first foray into the style went from phenomenon to failure overnight, when Lost ended without answering most of its questions. The longer Stranger Things goes on, more it puts itself at risk of falling prey to the same pitfall.
Moreover, Stranger Things has struggled to deliver the kind of resolution that makes Super 8 so powerful. Super 8 resonates because it begins with a core conflict — a father and son who are estranged by mutual grief — and uses its science fiction plot to resolve that conflict (aided in no small part by Michael Giacchino’s incomparable score). Without that catharsis, Super 8 would not be half the film it is. It tells a simple, straightforward story, but it is effective because it pairs an emotional conflict with the external conflict, resolving both together. Stranger Things is a compelling show and a delight to watch, but it simply has not reproduced the magic of Super 8 thus far…and fans might be forgiven for wondering if it ever will.