Joe Dante’s Gremlins turned 30 this past Sunday, and as much as that makes me feel ancient, at least at the age of 42 I finally understand the danger of eating after midnight.
I’m also proud to say that for 30 years my favorite movie has remained the same.
That’s not easy to explain to cinema snobs, let me tell you. I’ve always distinguished the question of “favorite movie’ to be separate from my opinion of “best movie.” I’m of the camp that your favorite movie should always be, unapologetically, one that resonated with you emotionally, and preferably at an early age.
Gremlins was that film for me, during the cinematically-prolific summer of 1984.
Before the film’s release, there was a wild anticipation as to what exactly the “gremlins” were. Warner Bros. hesitancy to unveil the creature design in the pre-release marketing paid off. With a PG rating, a summer release date and a fairly tame teaser campaign, kids flocked to Gremlins, often brought by parents.
What parents got for pretty much the first half of the film was a family friendly Christmas set comedy about a fluffy cute pet and his adventures in suburbia.
Then, they hatched.
And that was the exact moment that I fell in love with Gremlins.
E.T. might have perked my fascination with movies. Poltergeist started a long-time love of anything horror. But Gremlins, sealed the deal on both.
I remember thinking “you can do this?” while the film took a sharp 180 into mean-spirited horror. Forget the gore factor of the gremlin in the blender, trumped by the gremlin in the microwave, trumped by the beheaded gremlin in the fireplace.
I was more entertained by the ripple effect it had on the audience upon my first screening.
A handful of parents grabbed their kids and quickly made a mad dash for the exit (apparently a widespread effect in cinemas, as satirized in the sequel). At the very first sighting of a transformed Mogwai (one of the film’s most effective jump-scares), I recall the noise of peanut M&Ms tumbling down the angled flooring of the theater towards the screen, landing from their lap catapult by freaked out kids.
Who can blame them?
Those gremlins, expertly designed by Chris Walas, were bad-ass creations with wicked dark bravado. They were worth the mystery and hype leading to the film’s release. Warner Bros. had a instant hit on their hands because audience members fell in love with either the cute and cuddly Gizmo or the rough and rambunctious gremlins (or both).
Once the creatures were out of the bag, so to speak, that’s when the real promotion kicked in.
Gremlins in all their green glory graced Hallmark cards, Golden Books and Games, Thermos lunch boxes, Ralston cereals, and Hardee’s exclusive records could be found as part of the merchandise. It pushed the box-office solid for most of the summer of 1984, and even helped land a rerelease in 1985 in advance of a successful run on home video.
But even while I was knee-deep in the flood of merchandise, it was the film itself that continued to fascinate me for years. I learned about the many slick in-jokes from director Joe Dante (and quickly backtracked his filmography as a result). I read everything and anything I could get my hands on about the making of the film. I cheered the MPAA for blaming the movie for pushing PG too far, and I fantasied what the original film could have been if it followed this original 1982 script by Chris Columbus.
And, of course, I blew my allowance on the first VHS of my soon to grow collection (for the low-low price then of $45, no less). I refreshed the worn-out copy with a letter-boxed edition, then the laserdisc, then the DVD, then the anniversary DVD, then the Blu-ray. I’ve lost count how many times I’ve watched each and every one of them.
My wish for a sequel came with the underperforming 1990 satire Gremlins 2: The New Batch, which I dug, but not as much as the first. My fear of a remake has been confirmed, cancelled, and confirmed again too many times to count.
Yet for thirty years, the cute, clever, mischievous, intelligent and dangerous Gremlins has rocked my world. It might not be everyone’s favorite film, but I bet you have one just like it.
