A group of teenagers in California’s Central Valley spend one final night after their 1962 high school graduation cruising the strip with their buddies before they pursue their varying goals.
What says ‘glory days’ more than a perfectly soundtracked last-night-before-college gathering of friends? The time-honored tradition of staying up all night on your last night with all of your closest friends gets film treatment time and time again, but here in “America Graffiti,” we see its early origins take life. George Lucas’ 1973 classic drills down on several teens on their last night together as they make life-changing decisions, break up with their partners and maybe have the wildest night they will ever have. It’s everything Ferris Bueller delivered several years before Matthew Broderick ever danced on a parade float. Granted, the film feels entirely ensconced in its era, which comes with its own complications, but Lucas manages to stick the landing regarding sentiment. If you ask any teenagers, the only thing that matters is feelings.
It’s 1962. Kennedy is president. James Bond gets his first appearance onscreen ever. Marilyn Monroe died of an overdose. These are merely the backdrop to several teens on their last night of summer before college starts. For Curt, the question of college lingers in his mind even as the local booster club helps pay his tuition, and his friends are all begging him to go. Maybe he wouldn’t mind staying in town and going to community college. He doesn’t know what he wants to do with his life. For Steve, that means unceremoniously dumping his girlfriend so he can ‘see other people in school.’ Well, Steve gets more than he bargained for as his girlfriend Laurie rages against his unfair treatment. Terrie, everybody’s little brother, takes Steve’s car out for a night on the town only to encounter a beautiful woman, get in a liquor store hold-up, have his car stolen, and get very drunk for what might be the best night of his life. Lastly, there’s John, whose legendary hot rod scours the streets promising dangerous action, that is, until a couple of girls dump their fourteen-year-old sister on him, forcing him to be a little more loving than he usually is.
These stories swirl and bounce around to a surf-rock soundtrack and radio DJ. The music feels safe and easy, with ‘controversial’ artists like the Beach Boys, the Doors, Bill Haley & His Comets, and others. The stories themselves never overstay their welcome. Each scene begins and ends with its own mini-conflict, delivering a taut, simple story as it develops each of the many teen protagonists. The simple effect of bouncing from story to story livens up the film and refreshes the audience repeatedly.
Everyone is hamming it up in this script. The two actors provide antagonists, if not outright villains, between Charles Martin Smith’s whiny Terrie and Ron Howard’s weaselly Steve. Essentially, Richard Dreyfuss’ good ol’ boy Curt undergoes the most significant character growth, and he plays it affably—that goofy grin of his hangs, a little slack-jawed, perfectly synced with the music. Of course, it might not work if the film’s protagonists were only wide-eyed and eager the entire time. Paul Le Mat balances out the male ensemble with his James Dean-inspired looks and coolness. Still, Le Mat’s John unravels to be more of a poser than an actual traumatized teen. This unraveling provides a perfect foil to the “Animal House”-esque shenanigans of the other male leads, and this beating heart somewhere in between all the hormones carries the film.
Lucas’ film could easily read like a watered-down National Lampoon’s special without the more dramatic beats. The characters undergo hijinks. Curt gets taken hostage by a gang for a ride around. Steve flirts with the drive-in diner waitress immediately after his girlfriend breaks up with him. John enters a drag race with a very sexy Harrison Ford cameo role. Any of these beats could quickly spiral into chaos, laughter, physical comedy, and a guileless grin asking the audience ‘what did you expect?’ Instead, Lucas dives deeper into his characters’ hearts, putting them over the edge. Instead of Terrie’s journey being a source of comedy, it’s also a coming-of-age for the poor nerd who’s probably never been the main character of his own story. Steve doesn’t easily get away with breaking hearts; instead, he gets his heart broken and learns that maybe a distant university isn’t for him. Most important of all is Curt’s arc. A boy who didn’t want to go away to college and wasn’t sure of himself finds a woman on the streets he’s absolutely obsessed with. He never does meet her, but maybe the allure of going somewhere new would help him understand why he sought her in the first place. When Curt’s on the plane, flying away from home (with nothing but a suit and a backpack?), and he stares out over the road to see the woman in the white BMW, he smiles and laughs to himself. He was never meant to find the woman. He was only ever meant to leave.
It’s a lofty tale that can feel like it’s spinning its own wheels somewhere in the dead center. Steve’s behavior, by today’s standards, feels outright abusive (including one scene where he’s sexually aggressive.) The women in this movie essentially get the short end of the stick as they rebound between other men and dangerous races and try to put them in their place. But if we were to rate everything by our own moral context, many things would fall under intense scrutiny. The fact that Lucas can bring it all together by its ending delivers a more satisfying emotional climax than the middle promises. A sort of underpromising, overdelivering film with more heart than you might expect, “American Graffiti” to this day still captures a sentiment many of us feel today: what it’s like to imagine you’re never going to die.
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