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REPORT: There were two Hollywood-related moments that gladdened the heart over this past weekend. The first, obviously, was the glorious sight of the Oscar telecast end credits, the second was[1] Kim Master’s “Slate” story reporting that Steven Spielberg’s long gestating passion project - an Abe Lincoln biopic, is all but dead. Steven Spielberg not making a film was good news. How things have changed in thirty years.
Anyone my age, anyone who was around ten years-old when “Jaws” hit theatres, remembers when the name “Spielberg” meant something magical. From childhood straight through to my mid-twenties, Spielberg was what the joy of movies was all about. Not only did he direct four of the greatest films in the history of American cinema: “Jaws,” “Close Encounters of the Third Kind,” “Raiders of the Lost Ark” and “E.T.,” but as a producer his name was attached to such crowd pleasers as “Used Cars,” “Poltergeist,” “Gremlins,” “The Goonies,” “Innerspace,” “Who Framed Roger Rabbit,” and the “Back to the Future” trilogy.
To say the least, this was quite a run and then in 1993 he achieved something no other filmmaker of his generation ever came close to. He brought to the screen both the ultimate popcorn thrill-ride with “Jurassic Park” and a full-blown masterpiece with “Schindler’s List.”
At this point Spielberg had nowhere to go but down, and down he went. Whether or not he’s lost a bit of his filmmaking mojo is for another debate. The issue here is one of moral maturity.
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