Film Review — "Summer of 84"
It's going to sound a smidge cliche, I know, but… I have a creepy uncle. Well, technically he’s a great-uncle—my grandmother’s sister’s husband. To be clear, it’s all pretty innocuous. Goodbye hugs that last a few seconds too long. An extra, unnecessary repetition or two when issuing pats on the back. A good old-fashioned bicep-squeeze to see how strong I’m getting, which he still does to this day… Now, I don’t think Uncle Bill is a serial killer—I mean, I’ve never stumbled upon any concrete evidence to suggest anything, anyway. But there was a period in my youth, however, when if you’d told me he was a predator, well, I wouldn’t have been that surprised…
In Summer of 84, Mr. Mackey (Rich Sommer) instantly took me back to those moments from my childhood. He has an exchange early on with Davey (Graham Verchere) in which he refers to fifteen as the perfect age and fawns over the kid’s adolescence just a little too fondly. What’s meant to be wholesome reminiscence manages to swerve into borderline icky territory, especially since this conversation just so happens to take place in the man’s basement.
This film, not unlike Mr. Mackey, thrives on nostalgia and its effect on people. Given the setting, the internet is rife with comparisons to Stranger Things and the two-part IT remake; I’ve seen Rear Window and Disturbia brought up a handful of times, too, in terms of plot. But if you must make a story comparison, Fright Night is perhaps the most apt (minus the vampirism and Chris Sarandon’s lick-worthy chest). So, yes, while I recognize that Summer of 84 resembles each of these properties in some way, particularly Stranger Things, this film appears to assert, in contrast to Stranger Things, that nostalgia is actually inherently dangerous and can lead to self-destruction.
That was my takeaway, anyhow. I’m probably being too generous. But it could have been a very fitting thesis for a film of this nature, if it’d been built-up to well enough, and if the evidence had, you know, been there. And if that actually had been the message at all, which it’s likely not…
Anyway, Summer of 84 suffers from a wandering focus. The plot repeatedly veers off course, then steers itself back onto the road with a slightly altered tone and information that does not always serve the main story. The forced romantic angle is probably the biggest offender. The former-babysitter-turned-random-love-interest-for-the-main-boy diversion definitely reeks of having been written by men. It, like the rest of these narrative branches, do not amount to much or contribute to the central plot. Instead of having layers, Summer of 84 has detours. There’s nothing wrong with tonal shifts, but here we have mood swings. Summer of 84 chooses to not commit to a path and its tense finale feels unearned because of it.
On its own, the climax is gripping and leaves an impression; the filmmakers make dramatic choices that I honestly did not expect. Unfortunately, I’m not sure if the 95 minutes leading up to it deserve it. I found myself checking the time on a few occasions throughout the middle half. It also seemed as though the killer’s identity was inevitable and therefore not much of a reveal, since we are never really convinced that it could ever be anyone else—in a movie that at several points wants us to believe that it’s a mystery. So, as a known over-thinker, I became suspicious for that very reason and came up with who I thought would ultimately be revealed as the killer instead—and even how he would be unmasked, so to speak. Sadly, events did not play out as I’d envisioned them. And I say “sadly” because—and I’m aware I’m biased, but—my way’s better.
It’s clear how this film got made. 80s nostalgia is all the rage right now, and all these properties share an audience: (1) Gen-Xers and (2) Millennials fond of a decade they have little to no memory of. And I’m sure many of those folks will enjoy what they see. But I’m also sure that many more, myself included, would enjoy it more if the story had kept its eye on the prize and stuck the landing—and had executed its message, or a message of any sort. Ultimately, Summer of 84 does not justify its own existence for me. Hmm, maybe my conclusion about how a longing for the past could lead to a present downfall isn’t that far off after all…
