American Graffiti and the lasting impact of… | Little White Lies

In Praise Of

Amer­i­can Graf­fi­ti and the last­ing impact of nos­tal­gia on cinema

11 Aug 2023

Words by Daniel Allen

Three young people, two men and one woman, sitting in a vintage car against a scenic cloudy sky backdrop.
Three young people, two men and one woman, sitting in a vintage car against a scenic cloudy sky backdrop.
Half a cen­tu­ry on, George Lucas’s sem­i­nal teen movie casts a long shad­ow across both the com­ing-of-age genre and film­mak­er autofiction.

After his dystopi­an sci-fi THX 1138 failed at the box office, George Lucas was chal­lenged by his friend Fran­cis Ford Cop­po­la to write a film that would appeal to main­stream audi­ences. Lucas leapt at the propo­si­tion, writ­ing a com­ing-of-age sto­ry about four teenagers on the last day of sum­mer in 1962. The script had auto­bi­o­graph­i­cal ele­ments, with Lucas using his teenage expe­ri­ences cruis­ing the strip in his home­town of Modesto, Cal­i­for­nia. He even based some of the char­ac­ters on parts of his ear­ly life, from his street-rac­ing years (John Mil­ner) to his nerdy high school per­sona (Ter­ry Fields).

Fol­low­ing a trou­bled pre-pro­duc­tion process, Lucas made his film – Amer­i­can Graf­fi­ti – at Uni­ver­sal for less than a mil­lion dol­lars. Yet on its release in 1973, it was a mas­sive hit with five Oscar nom­i­na­tions and over $140m earned at the box office. Not only did Lucas’s film meet Coppola’s chal­lenge, but Amer­i­can Graf­fi­ti also rede­fined the teen com­ing-of-age genre and launched the careers of sev­er­al stars (Richard Drey­fuss, Ron Howard and Har­ri­son Ford). The com­mer­cial suc­cess also allowed Lucas to make his next project – a lit­tle sci-fi film called Star Wars. The rest was history.

All of these are rea­sons why, 50 years lat­er, Amer­i­can Graf­fi­ti remains arguably one of the most influ­en­tial Amer­i­can films ever. But the most impor­tant rea­son relates to its inno­v­a­tive use of some­thing that has had a last­ing impact on cin­e­ma to this day: nostalgia.

While nos­tal­gia can refer to films that are looked up favourably because they were watched dur­ing child­hood, here it is a force explic­it­ly deployed by Lucas – gaz­ing back towards a spe­cif­ic peri­od and the music, fash­ion, movies and events that came from it. These tap into the fond mem­o­ries and pos­i­tive asso­ci­a­tions of those in the audi­ence who lived through the era, using the viewer’s sen­ti­men­tal affec­tion to bol­ster the film’s emo­tion­al impact.

Nos­tal­gia is such a potent tool because it is a form of escapism from age­ing or the bleak present. If you’re sud­den­ly feel­ing rather old or unset­tled by the mod­ern world, why not watch a movie that cap­tures your teenage years? It helps that the 1950s saw the arrival of pop­u­lar cul­ture as we know it – shaped by the youth and defined by film, tele­vi­sion, celebri­ty and music. The baby boomers were the first gen­er­a­tion to ben­e­fit and Amer­i­can Graf­fi­ti became the first film to cap­i­talise on their affec­tion for their teenage years.

Whilst there were movies geared towards the teenage mar­ket – Black­board Jun­gle, Rebel With­out a Cause, Beach Par­ty (and the briefly pop­u­lar beach par­ty genre) – Lucas was going back in time instead of stay­ing in the present.

One of the eas­i­est ways a film can con­jure nos­tal­gia is through a sound­track. In 1973 though, Lucas was going against the grain by load­ing his film with more than 40 rock and roll, Doo-wop and ear­ly R&B songs. That’ll Be the Day’ by Bud­dy Hol­ly. John­ny B Goode’ by Chuck Berry. Rock Around the Clock’ by Bill Haley and His Comets, set the stage (just like the lat­ter did in Black­board Jun­gle). The effect is akin to dri­ving along and sud­den­ly com­ing across the per­fect song on the radio (in fact, in the film they are all diegetic too, with teenagers lis­ten­ing to them via the pop­u­lar Wolf­man Jack show).

Fur­ther­more, Lucas’ pas­sion for car cul­ture shines as he lov­ing­ly shoots the scenes of char­ac­ters cruis­ing, depict­ing it as the most vital part of Modesto’s teenage life. As for the clas­sic hot rods, Steve Bolan­der (Howard) has a 1956 Chevro­let Impala he lends to Ter­ry (Charles Mar­tin Smith). John (Paul Le Mat) dri­ves a mod­i­fied, bright yel­low 1932 Ford Deuce Coupe. And then there is the 56 Ford Thun­der­bird, dri­ven by a mys­te­ri­ous blonde woman who Curt Hen­der­son (Drey­fuss) attempts to find.

All of this is a direc­tor-spe­cif­ic nos­tal­gia, with Lucas famil­iaris­ing us with the sights and sounds of his youth. How­ev­er, it has a reflec­tive pur­pose too. As Cam­mi­la Col­lar wrote for Out­take, The very word nos­tal­gia” denotes not just a fix­a­tion with the past, but also a poignant long­ing for it.” Here, Lucas is long­ing for a time of hope and inno­cence that van­ished soon after. When Curt is with his ex-girl­friend, she divulges his dream to become a pres­i­den­tial aide and shake hands with John F Kennedy. A year after the events of this film, he was assas­si­nat­ed. By the end of the decade, Nixon was Pres­i­dent, the British Inva­sion had com­plete­ly changed music, and anti-Viet­nam War move­ments vio­lent­ly clashed with police.

Vintage car with neon detailing and a woman in a striped dress posing beside it at night.

It’s easy then to see why Amer­i­can Graf­fi­ti appealed to the baby boomer gen­er­a­tion in 1973. After the polit­i­cal strife and insta­bil­i­ty of the 60s, the film was indica­tive of a desire to return to a sim­pler time. Even the char­ac­ters them­selves are bit­ter­sweet­ly rem­i­nisc­ing. When John hears The Beach Boys on the radio, he turns it off and remarks that rock and roll’s been going down­hill ever since Bud­dy Hol­ly died.”

The suc­cess of Amer­i­can Graf­fi­ti had an imme­di­ate impact. One year lat­er, ABC cre­at­ed the hit 50s-set sit­com Hap­py Days (also fea­tur­ing Rock Around the Clock’ and Ron Howard). In the long term, it pre­ced­ed a wave of Hol­ly­wood films rely­ing heav­i­ly on nos­tal­gia for America’s past. Stand by Me con­tained many ref­er­ences to 1959, from West­ern TV shows to clas­sic songs from Bud­dy Hol­ly and Ben E King. Mean­while, Robert Zemeck­is’ Back to the Future trav­elled to 1955 and depict­ed it nos­tal­gi­cal­ly. Hill Val­ley in the mid-1950s is bright and boom­ing; in 1985, it is a run-down shad­ow of its for­mer self. The past is infi­nite­ly bet­ter than the present. Togeth­er with the 1963-set Dirty Danc­ing, these films became a defin­ing part of 80s Hol­ly­wood cinema.

In the 1990s, For­rest Gump ran through the most recog­nis­able events and cul­ture of 20th-cen­tu­ry Amer­i­ca, from Elvis to the Viet­nam War. The film starred Tom Han­ks, who would go on to write and direct a trib­ute to the bygone era of 60s garage rock with 1996’s That Thing You Do! Addi­tion­al­ly, Richard Linklater’s 1993 high school com­e­dy Dazed and Con­fused could be con­sid­ered a 70s ver­sion of Lucas’ film – set in Austin, Texas in 1976, it also fea­tures the director’s home state, a pro­tag­o­nist weigh­ing up his future, and a sound­track of con­tem­po­ra­ne­ous rock and roll hits.

This pen­chant for nos­tal­gia has con­tin­ued well into the 2010s and 2020s. If any­thing, the dig­i­tal age has led to an explo­sion of films look­ing to the past. In Once Upon a Time in Hol­ly­wood, Quentin Taran­ti­no repli­cat­ed Cal­i­for­nia in the sum­mer of 1969 through pro­duc­tion design, loca­tions, cos­tume design and sound­track. But there is a bit­ter­sweet­ness too, with Charles Manson’s cult loom­ing over this fad­ing inno­cent time. Although Taran­ti­no engages in some alter­na­tive his­to­ry to save Sharon Tate, the whole film is filled with pathos for the peo­ple, places and things lost.

Paul Thomas Ander­son looked to the 70s for Licorice Piz­za. Net­flix megahit Stranger Things drips with nos­tal­gia for the 80s. Gre­ta Gerwig’s Lady Bird and Pixar’s Turn­ing Red became the first major exam­ples of cinema’s nos­tal­gia for the ear­ly 2000s, and Lucas’ friend Steven Spiel­berg leaned into direc­tor-spe­cif­ic nos­tal­gia with his aut­ofic­tion The Fabel­mans. Based on his ado­les­cence, the film focus­es on how a young Spiel­berg (renamed Sam­my Fabel­man) dis­cov­ered his love for cin­e­ma and filmmaking.

The Fabel­mans demon­strates how nos­tal­gia has aid­ed a trend from the last cou­ple of years: semi-auto­bi­o­graph­i­cal projects. Exam­ples of this include Alfon­so Cuarón’s Roma, Ken­neth Branagh’s Trou­bles-set Belfast, and Linklater’s Apol­lo 10½: A Space Age Child­hood. Set in his home­town of Hous­ton in the sum­mer of 1969, Lin­klater uses ani­ma­tion to take audi­ences back to his child­hood. As a result, it feels like the film is throw­ing nos­tal­gia at you, list­ing the boomer-spe­cif­ic music, TV shows and board games that made it, as an adult Stan­ley (a stand-in for Lin­klater) reflects in the film, a great time and place to be a kid.” The semi-auto­bi­o­graph­i­cal ele­ments in Amer­i­can Graf­fi­ti laid the ground­work for these movies.

Yet decades after Amer­i­can Graffiti’s release, nos­tal­gia con­tin­ues to be a well-used trait in cin­e­ma. Count­less film­mak­ers have approached the past – some­times their past – with a roman­ti­cised, ret­ro­spec­tive atti­tude. Most have fol­lowed Lucas in using pop­u­lar music. Some have even bor­rowed songs notably used in his film (Back to the Future reuses John­ny B Goode’).

The irony is that Amer­i­can Graf­fi­ti ends with a mes­sage of look­ing for­ward, not back. Out of the film’s cen­tral quar­ter, the one who could be con­sid­ered the pro­tag­o­nist is Curt, who Lucas said he iden­ti­fied with the most. At first, he’s unsure whether he will join Steve on the plane to a col­lege out east. As he tries to find the blonde girl he saw in the T‑Bird, Curt encoun­ters the lives he could live if he stayed: He sees Mr Wolfe, a high school teacher who flunked out of col­lege and now flirts with female stu­dents; he spends time with his ex, and he tem­porar­i­ly joins the Pharaoh gang. Most impor­tant­ly, he meets Wolf­man Jack, who tells Curt to move on (“It’s a great big beau­ti­ful world out there”).

In the end, Curt takes Wolf­man Jack’s advice. He is the only one who gets on the plane to col­lege (Steve remains in Modesto with his high school sweet­heart). Dur­ing the cred­its, All Sum­mer Long’ by The Beach Boys plays – the same band stuck-in-the-past John hates – as Curt flies to his future. His jour­ney proves Amer­i­can Graf­fi­ti is ulti­mate­ly a com­ing-of-age sto­ry about change over com­fort, and choos­ing the wider world over your home­town. The yearn­ing for what was fades into antic­i­pa­tion for what will be. Cin­e­ma may always have an eye on the past – rekin­dling past decades and child­hood mem­o­ries – but times inex­orably change. You can’t stay 17 forever.

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