Chris Allen’s review published on Letterboxd:
May 23, 1984. Junior year. 16 years old. Left school with my friend, drove directly to the theater, and met my family for an evening show. Waited in line for a few hours at the Fox theater in Covina, Ca.
As I look back and wonder how much nostalgia clouds my vision, the memories I have of this opening day, the utter joy I had upon leaving the theater, going back in the summer and watching it again and again, getting a copy of it on video early and sitting home on a sick day and watching it back to back, slow-mo-ing through scenes with my brother, watching the making-of documentary, playing the shit out of my cassette-tape soundtrack...
I still watch it with those eyes, and enjoy it immensely for the production that it is, for the star the Harrison is, the director that Steven is, and the composer that John is . As an adult i can recognize its faults and questionable portrayals, but it is such an ingrained part of my young life that it is embedded in me to produce joy, like a drug.