In 1977 Richard Dreyfuss was very angry in two fantastic films.
Two movies that with Jaws top the list of his greatest performances: Herbert Ross’ The Goodbye Girl and Spielberg’s Close Encounters of the Third Kind.
Two completely different films with a similarly distressed Dreyfuss as the glue that holds them together in my heart. Like a earth toned mid 70’s ice cream sandwich.
(I did intend for this post to be on both films, but I quickly discovered that Close Encounters needs a space of its own. Don’t fret Marsha Mason fans. The Goodbye Girl will have a turn in the near future).
The first thing you may remember about Close Encounters is the Devil’s Tower mashed potatoes. You may remember this because a pile of potatoes set before you hasn’t escaped unsculpted since. The second thing you may remember about Close Encounters is the melody the whole world sings to communicate with the Aliens. You may remember this because the Kodaly hand signs for the notes have been a stupid thing that you’re smug about remembering: Re, Mi, Do, Do, So