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Review
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A nostalgiac movie with a bitter, perceptive edge to it. Set
in 1961, on graduation night, in a small town, American
Graffiti follows the adventures and misadventures of a
group of grads as they try to sort out their futures. Curt
Henderson (Dreyfus) is not sure about college. Steve
Bolander (Howard) is being pressured by his girl-friend to
stay home. "Toad" Terry Fields (Smith), receiving the gift
of Bolander's car, just wants to score. He finds a likely
girl, but she wants a drink, and he's underage. Carol
(Mackenzie Phillips), a precocious 13-year-old, just wants a
thrill ride, and John Milner (Le Mat) gets saddled with her
for the night, while stalking an out-of-town racer, Bob
Falfa (Harrison Ford!) who wants to challenge his hot rod.
The stories of these four weave in and out in a superb
pastiche of Americana-- drive-ins, radio, hot rods, drag
racing, drinking, motorcycle gangs, and sex. Hanging over
all the events is the viewer's consciousness of the
disturbed 60's, the assassinations, race riots, war, drugs,
and urban decay, that will follow this interlude of
innocent pleasure-seeking. Somehow all the trivial
concerns of Toad and John and Curt and Steve seem to
matter. Maybe they even matter more, because we realize how
poignant their unconcern for large issues is. These kids
are not naive innocents, as the TV series "Happy Days" would
have you believe. They are exploring uncharted territory:
the freedom and mobility and prosperity of American
suburbia in the late 50's. And they seem supremely unaware
of the cost.
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