Rated:

Riding high on the success of Jaws (1975), Steven Spielberg began his ambitious project- initially entitled Watch the Skies - with full studio backing. He constructed an enormous set in an airplane hangar in Mobile, Alabama, while shooting certain outdoor scenes in a section of Indiana desert land reminiscent of Jack Arnold's locations in It Came From Outer Space (1953) and Tarantula (1955). Over a year was spent shooting and re-shooting scenes on various other international locations with the help of some top cinematographers. These sequences jigsawed together for two versions, the first demanded by an impatient Columbia, released in 1977, and the second - Spielberg's authorized version - released three years later.

Although the Special Edition (1980) contains additional scenes, the overall effect of the two films is the same. Both are wonderful, brilliantly constructed science-fiction drama featuring complex special effects which are enhanced by Spielberg's single-minded, all-American, all-Hollywood vision. It is a mammoth spectacle, as gripping as Hitchcock, as magical as Disney's early animated features, and as humanely optimistic as the best of the Sixties television series The Outer Limits (1963-65).

The story is presented from three simultaneous viewpoints; that of the innocent child and his distraught mother, of an intrigued electrical engineer, and of a group of scientists led by Francois Truffaut playing in his first American movie. Everything revolves around five or six breathtaking set-pieces; the narrative intercuts between these 'close encounters', excitingly revealing the clues which lead to the moving climax when the extra-terrestrials come to rest on Devil's Tower. Superbly edited throughout, the film moves at an extraordinary pace, teasing the audience with constant references to the other beings as Lacombe and his UFO investigators discover the secret of the five musical tones - a signal continuously broadcast from outer space.

In the first sighting is encapsulated all the success of Close Encounters of the Third Kind: around the curve of the road come three multicoloured, gyrating shapes at incredible speed but slow enough to be in full view of witnesses and the audience. By shooting the special effects in 70mm and the rest in 35mm, which is then blown up to 70mm, the quality of the print is consistent so that the spacecraft look completely real. It is the immaculate special effects, integrated so perfectly with the heart-stopping narrative, which are the true stars of Close Encounters. The final sequence - the arrival of the mothership on Devil's Tower - is as startling as Cecil B. DeMille's parting of the waves inf The Ten Commandments (1956). Anyone would find it difficult not to believe that this great citadel in the sky, twice as high as the mountain, really exists.

Unlike the swashbuckling heroics of that other high-budget, cosmic adventure movief Star Wars (1977, dir. George Lucas), the effectiveness of Close Encounters lies in our ability to believe that beyond the stars superior powers are benevolent and caring. In those closing moments the audience is allowed the kind of emotional participation not felt in cinemas since Judy Garland walked over the rainbow and Dumbo flew: perfect escapism for our troubled times.




p l o t

Lost on the road while trying to
establish the cause of a massive
power-cut, Roy Neary sees a set
of bright lights approaching.
Instead of passing straight by, the
intense rays rise above his truck,
and immediately there is a loss of
all gravitational force in his cab.

In another part of the same
black-out a young boy awakes to
find the entire house in bizarre
confusion; all the electrical
appliances have switched
themselves on. Amused and
amazed, he runs into the night
pursued by his fearful mother,
and mysteriously appears at the
edge of a hill-top road where Roy,
Jillian and the boy witness three
of the alien spacecraft.

Spurred on by newspaper and
television reports, interested
people turn up for these sightings.
Meanwhile, a group of scientists
led by Claude Lacombe has found
evidence in other continents that
a certain musical pattern can be
linked with the aliens' efforts to
communicate.

Jillian's son is invisibly
kidnapped by the extra-terrestrials,
and Roy alienates his own family by
building a clay model of the visions
he has seen of a flat mountain. As
soon as he realizes, along with Jillian,
that the model in his living room
is the Devil's Tower in Wyoming
and that the aliens want them to
be there, he and Jillian race
acrodd country.

On arrival they find everything
cordoned off by Lacombe and the
military who have simulated a
nerve-gas scare. All the
unwelcome humans drawn there
are rounded-up for interrogation,
but Roy and Jillian escape.

An exciting chase culminates in
the discovery of a colossal
runway, a giant electronic board
covered with coloured stripes, and
a powerful musical keyboard. All
their former paranoia is calmed
by this sight, and their weird
obsessions and premonitions now
become crystal clear.

A fleet of dancing, whoosing,
neon-light spaceships precede the
landing of the huge mothership.
Communication between the
scientists and the craft is initiated
by the playing of the five mystical
notes, and culminates in an extra-
terrestrial duet. Roy eventually
enters the mothership surrounded
by the aliens - their embryonic
features clear and their intentions
obviously harmless. With sadness
Lacombe and his team watch the
friendly visitors leave. From a
vantage point, Jillian and her son
see the craft move off.


OSCARS:

• 1977: Best cinematography; Special Achievement Award (sound effects editing)

• Nominations: Best director; Best Supporting Actress (Melinda Dillon); Art Direction; Editing; Original Score; Sound; Special Visual Effects