The best scene in Steven Spielberg’s Hook occurs early in the second act. An adult Peter Pan reunites with the Lost Boys. Because Peter (Robin Williams) has been absent for decades and resembles nothing like his younger persona–he’s middle-aged, overweight, is devoid of any confidence or spirit–no one believes it’s him. The Lost Boys’ new leader, Rufio, draws a line to take sides. Only one boy remains by Peter, staring curiously. He reaches with his hands and begins to peel back Peter’s face like it were play dough. Carefully, he presses his skin to remove the wrinkles and mold his expression into a bright smile. Suddenly, the boy recognizes him. “Oh there you are, Peter!” the boy exclaims. Soon, a few more boys flock to Peter’s side. They believe again.
I haven’t seen Steven Spielberg’s Hook is over a decade. Back in 1991, I was excited to see it; even taken in by what actually worked in the film. The $60 million summer adventure was guaranteed to break even based on the director’s reputation alone, even though Spielberg began to venture into more mature fare, swapping obligations to finishing George Lucas’ Indy opus with Oscar bait like The Color Purple (1985), Empire of the Sun (1987) and Always (1989). But none of his adult-oriented fare could compete with Spielberg’s earlier successes. At the start of the 90s, one could argue that Steven was done chasing dreams–that he had all but grown up.
In many ways, Hook is Spielberg’s second half to ET; the missing part in which the lovable alien circles back to Earth and witnesses Elliot slowly become disinterested in flowers that magically bloom back to life. Instead, he starts eying girls and sports cars, leaving ET to search for sitting room next to the stuffed animals.
Between 1982, when ET stormed all over pop culture, and 1991, when Hook did not, Spielberg became a father, divorced his first wife, Amy Irving, and got engaged to Kate Capshaw, who played Indiana Jones’ irritable love interest from Temple of Doom. In many ways, Spielberg went from Peter Pan to Peter Banning.
Originally after ET, Spielberg originally wanted to make a faithful adaption to the original J.M. Barrie’s 1911 novel, Peter Pan. In 1985, Spielberg explained “When I was eleven years old I actually directed the story during a school production. I have always felt like Peter Pan. I still feel like Peter Pan. It has been very hard for me to grow up, I’m a victim of the Peter Pan syndrome.” That same year, Steven had his first child and conceded later “I didn’t want to go to London and have seven kids on wires in front of blue screens. I wanted to be home as a dad.”
Soon director Nick Castle (The Last Starfighter and also the actor behind the mask in the first Halloween) conjured the idea of telling a new story that asks “What if Peter Pan grew up?” The story was sold to Tri Star with Castle also set to direct. When Spielberg expressed interest, Castle was fired, but given his full directorial fee and a co-writer credit. By the early 90s, Spielberg was no stranger to being the “hired gun”. He was essentially one for George Lucas’ Raiders of the Lost Ark.
Back in 1984, I believe Spielberg would have made a tremendous Peter Pan. With Hook, however, there are moments that are suspiciously personal and others that are downright estranged. There’s a beautiful score by John Williams that strives to inject an emotional nuance. But the film stumbles, especially whenever kids are involved. Close Encounters and ET taught us that Spielberg mastered the art of patience and understanding when working with child performers. But Hook, which involves many child actors, remains fixated on the adult performances. We’re presented an adult Peter, Captain Hook, a sexualized Tinker Bell. When all of the players have made their grandiose entrances, it’s obvious that Spielberg was clearly infatuated by his cast and allows long-winded moments of Julia Roberts and Williams or Dustin Hoffman and Bob Hoskins to play longer than they should. But the crucial elements are lost due to Steven’s utter disinterest in the children.
Let’s examine Peter’s own kids. The daughter is reserved to looking cute and screams a lot when she and her elder brother are captured by Hook, SME and company. (How did Hook return to the normal world anyway?) Peter’s son, Jack, hates his dad for being stuffy. He sees Captain Hook as an ideal father because Hook can build him a baseball stadium (if you build it, he will come) and allows him to break clocks. Inevitably, Jack only reinvigorates his love for his Dad after he sees him as Peter Pan and not as a father. There are long moments when Jack (played by talented child star, Charlie Korsmo) merely stares with wide eyes while the Oscar winners chew the scenery.
And then there are The Lost Boys. When Peter first encounters them, they display no wonder or innocence. They’re downright hateful street thugs complemented by Rufio, the newly invented leader whose hair looks even more outlandish than it did in 1991. There’s never a moment when the fierce leader allows his guard to fall; when he becomes a genuine character and not a caricature. Instead, the kids perform street basketball moves and other culturally-sound actions that can only come from long exposure periods to MTV. Does Neverland get cable?
There’s also a confusing message that seems to come from Spielberg’s inner-child turmoils. Peter inevitably rekindles his childhood memories and naivety by recalling his happy thoughts…of being a father. His guide is Tinker Bell, who straddles a fine line between bubbly sweetness and a deep longing for romantic kinship with Peter. The subplot has possibilities, but inevitably fizzles. There’s a battle between childhood desires with adulthood contentment. In many ways, it represents Spielberg’s own inability to toggle between his youthful and adult psyche.
This turmoil continued for Spielberg two years later. He was handling the B-movie action/adventure, Jurassic Park, but had has his heart set more on the extremely personal Schindler’s List. Because of a conflicting schedule, Spielberg left the Jurassic post-production duties to his pal, George Lucas, while he invested his soul into his passion project. Jurassic Park, despite its successes, is clearly Spielberg on cruise control.
For example, the film’s focuses on paleontogists Allen Grant and Ellie Salder, chaotician (and comic relief) Ian Malcolm, a lawyer and a billionaire. Along for the ride are two kids. But the children are merely fodder for the film’s thrills. The focus is leaning toward the adults. In 1982, Spielberg would have invested more interest in with the children. And unlike extravaganzas like Jaws, Close Encounters and ET, the real star of the show was a special effect. Of course, kids are disposable in Spielberg’s earlier works like Jaws and Close Encounters. But star Richard Dreyfuss filled in as the Spielberg child persona; always chasing dreams and imagination, much to the chagrin of the adult contemporaries. He even presses his disengaged children to watch Pinocchio on the big screen, giddily excited when he sees the film is playing at the local cinema.
After Jurassic Park reigned in the box office and Schindler captured Spielberg his long-coveted Oscar, he took a hiatus to be with his children (and help form his studio project, Dreamworks). When Spielberg got behind the director’s chair again, he was lured into Jurassic Park’s sequel purely by a mountain of money (much to the dismay of his Dreamworks’ co-founders). If Jurassic Park lacked some of Spielberg’s personal investment, it’s evident that his heart is completely absent here. The second installment lacks the awe and wonder that peaked its head into the original. There is one child this time: Ian’s adopted daughter. She is, once again, merely functional as a passable victim for T-Rex’s and velociraptors, whose only characterization is her fondness for gymnastics, even during the most inopportune moments.
I lament about Spielberg’s loss of youth as if it were avoidable. The fact is: it was inevitable. What’s troubling is whenever Spielberg tries (and fails) to return to his younger form; embracing a franchise, or a genre, that was clearly the lovechild of his younger, naive self that no longer exists. He routinely attempts to rekindle with the the types of films that made him an icon, rather than simply embrace the newer, mature course that lead him to two (possibly three) Oscars.
The most obvious is Indiana Jones and The Kingdom of the Crystal Skull, which was machine-manufactured by Spielberg. There’s no sense of the Spielberg of 1981. For instance, the action (which is ridiculous, even for an Indiana Jones film) lacks any sense of tongue-in-cheek, nail-biting ferocity. The first sequence has the aged Indiana scaling from wood block to wood block…from the point-of-view of the villains. Seriously, if you re watch the film (on mute!) you may mistake the film as being about the protagonist Russians and that evil American.
It’s that kind of detachment that shows Spielberg’s utter loss of engagement with this kind of B-movie that made him a household name. If you examine a film like Lincoln (faults and all), there’s a deeper, more connected approach. Spielberg wants to make these films; whether its for more Oscar glory or some continued longing to make the world a better place. Whatever.
When I think back on Hook, this is clearly the point when both Spielbergs come to a tumultuous impasse, with no final resolution between the two conflicting forces. The film ends with Peter somehow re-establishing his sense of innocence and imagination, but leaves us wondering what fine line he’ll inevitably walk when the film ends. “To live…to live will be an awfully big adventure”. Bullshit!
Hook will never be remembered as a Spielberg classic. It’s too capricious, too confused to establish any deeply rooted connection with its audience. Since its release, Spielberg has all but denounced it. It was clearly a product made by a man no longer in tune with awe and wonder. For example, despite Steven’s reputation by getting through movie shoots unscathed and on schedule (a self-imposed discipline after the nightmarish Jaws production) he was unsuccessful with either on Hook. The sets look like areas that people stroll past at Disneyland before they get to the rides. The actors all do a fine job taking turns stealing scenes. But there’s something missing. Something magical. Yet, in a bizarre sense, it’s the most telling film of Spielberg’s career (other than ET). He’s hoping the children will peel back the wrinkles behind the graying beard and find a giddy, young man ready for adventures. But, as the boys noted in the film, Spielberg “you’ve grown up. You promised never to grow up.”
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