This is the ground-breaking work by George Lucas, loosely based on his friends and his experiences as a teenager living in the San Joaquin Valley at the beginning of the 1960s, a time of gentle naiveté and innocence. There are no words to describe the edgy sweetness and humor that permeates this ensemble story of friends and enemies, jocks, brains, and punks maneuvering through the stultifying heat of the last weekend of summer vacation, 1962.
American Graffiti is a comedy, a drama, a tragedy, a musical, and a reminder of what small-town America once was, a mere forty years ago. From its breezy humor to its excruciating last moments (I remember theater-goers stunned in their seats, sobbing after the credits were done), Lucas’s first major hit hits home. American Graffiti is pure magic.