A spectacular film in every sense of the word. This is the sort of thing that elevated Stephen Spielberg to dizzying commercial heights and enabled him to go on to tackle more demanding subjects.
Richard Dryfus is a telephone lineman, a suburban husband and father of three living in the Midwest. Sent to investigate a power outage, he undergoes an extremely unsettling encounter with a giant spaceship that appears to have implanted ideas in his head -- something about Devil's Tower, a volcanic plug in Wyoming -- that leaves him besotted. A dozen or so others have undergone similar experiences, including Melinda Dillon. They are all drawn to Devil's Tower for the climax.
There are children involved, of course; not just Dreyfus's three kids but Dillon's cute little boy who becomes a thoroughly willing kidnapped kid. The abduction is seen mainly from his point of view. In the middle of the night he's awakened by blazing lights outside the farmhouse. His toys mysteriously turn themselves on -- a plastic monkey plays a tin drum, a miniature locomotive rolls around its track. I was swept up in the kid's experience and didn't turn back into an adult until Melinda Dillon swung her long, slim, very tan limbs out from under the covers to look into the goings on.
In the background of all this brouhaha is a gaggle of mostly faceless scientists trying to figure out what's up. They're led by the French director, Francois Truffaut, whose gentle presence is missed in today's cinema. There is the expectable government cover up. J. Allen Hynek appears briefly as himself, bearded and smoking a pipe, in a cameo. He was a thoughtful observer of the UFO scene and the movie's title is taken from one of his easily accessible books.
The film is essentially a loosely strung together series of scenes leading up to the final meeting of humans and -- well, whatever they are. Some of the scenes are startling. A mid-size freighter abandoned in the middle of the desert? The discovery of half a dozen World War II era TBMs appearing in a Mexican village in pristine condition? A horde of villagers in northern India chanting a tune and, when asked where it came from, simultaneously jabbing their forefingers to the sky?
The plot, such as it is, is only a springboard for these miraculous events. The story itself doesn't make sense and is full of holes. The enigmatic visitors have all sorts of preternatural powers. They not only turn electrical devices on and off. They make window shades roll up, flip carpets over, cause screws to unscrew themselves, run vacuum cleaners without human help (that's a skill I wish I had), and shake mailboxes like crazy -- yet they can't undo a simple door latch. What Zoltan Kodaly's hand positions, or indeed his tonal signals, have to do with communications, I don't know. Makes for engaging listening though. It was turned into a pop tune in hopes of cashing in on the movie's popularity. The person responsible for the score, John Williams, seems to have been more influenced by symbolists like Debussy and Ravel, with their lush, soaring, stringy scores and heavenly choirs, inspiring awe.
What they've been doing is subjecting people from all around the world to extraordinary rendition. Zip, and they're gone, vehicles and all. Then, apparently on an arbitrary schedule, they return the kidnapees and take others aboard, voluntarily this time. Why they do this is left for us to wonder about.
Richard Dreyfus is one of the volunteers. After his family leaves him because of his self-destructive obsession with Devil's Tower, he drives there, meets Melinda Dillon once again, waves good-bye to her, and, stricken with wonderment and anticipation, he boards the ship. I guess he's still nuts. No power on earth could get me aboard that ship. I don't care how seductive the invitation of the spidery aliens was.
The film illustrates what Hynek called the ETH -- the extra-terrestrial hypothesis. They're genuine space craft and carry alien beings just like a peculiar Airbus. Well, that's a leap of faith that Hynek never made. Nobody knows what they are, only THAT they are. This isn't the place to get into that controversy but my own experience is listed with hundreds of others at Peter Davenport's NUFORC web site.
Well, it's a landmark film. Not a masterpiece but a gripping display of technical skill and an almost magical ability to enthrall the viewer. If you haven't seen it, you'll be impressed if you do. Just don't go leaping aboard strange space ships just because they offer you candy -- especially when there isn't any candy.
Richard Dryfus is a telephone lineman, a suburban husband and father of three living in the Midwest. Sent to investigate a power outage, he undergoes an extremely unsettling encounter with a giant spaceship that appears to have implanted ideas in his head -- something about Devil's Tower, a volcanic plug in Wyoming -- that leaves him besotted. A dozen or so others have undergone similar experiences, including Melinda Dillon. They are all drawn to Devil's Tower for the climax.
There are children involved, of course; not just Dreyfus's three kids but Dillon's cute little boy who becomes a thoroughly willing kidnapped kid. The abduction is seen mainly from his point of view. In the middle of the night he's awakened by blazing lights outside the farmhouse. His toys mysteriously turn themselves on -- a plastic monkey plays a tin drum, a miniature locomotive rolls around its track. I was swept up in the kid's experience and didn't turn back into an adult until Melinda Dillon swung her long, slim, very tan limbs out from under the covers to look into the goings on.
In the background of all this brouhaha is a gaggle of mostly faceless scientists trying to figure out what's up. They're led by the French director, Francois Truffaut, whose gentle presence is missed in today's cinema. There is the expectable government cover up. J. Allen Hynek appears briefly as himself, bearded and smoking a pipe, in a cameo. He was a thoughtful observer of the UFO scene and the movie's title is taken from one of his easily accessible books.
The film is essentially a loosely strung together series of scenes leading up to the final meeting of humans and -- well, whatever they are. Some of the scenes are startling. A mid-size freighter abandoned in the middle of the desert? The discovery of half a dozen World War II era TBMs appearing in a Mexican village in pristine condition? A horde of villagers in northern India chanting a tune and, when asked where it came from, simultaneously jabbing their forefingers to the sky?
The plot, such as it is, is only a springboard for these miraculous events. The story itself doesn't make sense and is full of holes. The enigmatic visitors have all sorts of preternatural powers. They not only turn electrical devices on and off. They make window shades roll up, flip carpets over, cause screws to unscrew themselves, run vacuum cleaners without human help (that's a skill I wish I had), and shake mailboxes like crazy -- yet they can't undo a simple door latch. What Zoltan Kodaly's hand positions, or indeed his tonal signals, have to do with communications, I don't know. Makes for engaging listening though. It was turned into a pop tune in hopes of cashing in on the movie's popularity. The person responsible for the score, John Williams, seems to have been more influenced by symbolists like Debussy and Ravel, with their lush, soaring, stringy scores and heavenly choirs, inspiring awe.
What they've been doing is subjecting people from all around the world to extraordinary rendition. Zip, and they're gone, vehicles and all. Then, apparently on an arbitrary schedule, they return the kidnapees and take others aboard, voluntarily this time. Why they do this is left for us to wonder about.
Richard Dreyfus is one of the volunteers. After his family leaves him because of his self-destructive obsession with Devil's Tower, he drives there, meets Melinda Dillon once again, waves good-bye to her, and, stricken with wonderment and anticipation, he boards the ship. I guess he's still nuts. No power on earth could get me aboard that ship. I don't care how seductive the invitation of the spidery aliens was.
The film illustrates what Hynek called the ETH -- the extra-terrestrial hypothesis. They're genuine space craft and carry alien beings just like a peculiar Airbus. Well, that's a leap of faith that Hynek never made. Nobody knows what they are, only THAT they are. This isn't the place to get into that controversy but my own experience is listed with hundreds of others at Peter Davenport's NUFORC web site.
Well, it's a landmark film. Not a masterpiece but a gripping display of technical skill and an almost magical ability to enthrall the viewer. If you haven't seen it, you'll be impressed if you do. Just don't go leaping aboard strange space ships just because they offer you candy -- especially when there isn't any candy.