Stand by Me at 30
Immense empathy makes it a powerful kids movie
There are R-rated movies that have children as protagonists, but don’t really appeal to child audiences. There are R-rated movies without children that nonetheless are favored by children. There are childish R-rated movies made for obscure appeals I can’t even summarize. But Stand By Me is a rare R-rated kids’ movie. It earns the R-rating in an offhand manner while not just telling a story about kids, but for them. As a result, it’s empathetic message carries a tremendous impact which has allowed it to endure for 30 years and likely many more.
Although Stand By Me is often remembered for it’s catchy soundtrack, thrilling set pieces, and yucky campfire stories, it’s not always a fun film to watch. Much of the time is spent discussing different forms of child abuse. The leads carry serious baggage and the trip provides ample opportunity for these issues to come to light.
Gordie, our protagonist, struggles with grief and guilt following the death of his older brother. His parents literally ignore him and he blames himself for their lack of support. For him, seeing the body is a clear chance at catharsis.
Chris has an alcoholic, abusive father and deep-set insecurities about his family’s poor reputation in town. Their reputation causes adult authority figures to prematurely judge him even though he’s a nice guy.
Teddy is tragically obsessed with his father, a PTSD-afflicted war veteran sent to a psychiatric hospital after he burned Teddy’s ear in a fit of rage. Without a proper support system, the movie depicts him as almost past help — suicidal, even, at age 12.
And Vern, while generally the comic relief, is forced to weather some pretty consistent bullying. We eventually learn he grows up to be a forklift operator, which is so appropriate as to feel tragic.
If these problems sound a tad melodramatic on paper, that contributes to the film’s incisive point. Are these characters any less real for their problems? No! Watching four brilliant actors (who happen to be children) embody such pain, fear, and insecurity is tremendously affecting. Seriously, watch that clip and try not to tear up.
If I had to boil down the message of the movie, it’s this: being a kid matters. The movie does not shy away from their very real hardships or their dreams. Only the adults within the movie seem not to care.
As a result, all the characters are vying for basic respect: for their families and their communities to know they exist. Their essential unimportance to the outside world is the downside of being a kid, really. They have the freedom to go off on an adventure because they have no responsibilities. They can enjoy a bonfire together while dissecting Disney characters. As a unit, they are capable of experiencing joy and love, but taken individually, they are stunningly alone.
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I watched the movie regularly in my pre-teen years, especially in late summer when the movie is set. Thankfully, my home situation is far cry from some of the characters’. I don’t struggle with any mental illness. But I was a gregarious kid, with equally outgoing friends who wanted to go on quests and kick ass. We felt adult condescension keenly, and compensated by creating our own rituals to perform and microcosmic worlds to rule.
Most of all, we knew that our friendships were the strongest bonds we had. At age 12, only another preteen is going to understand the world as you see it. Not hormonal teenagers or oblivious parents. From the first frame of Stand By Me, Reiner celebrates the importance of childhood friendship. The movie treats children as adults regarding internal problems and recognizes the benefits of being a kid. The complexity of that representation resonated with me immensely.
The film’s ending is bittersweet and mostly an concession to adults. With the cathartic process of writing coming to an end, Richard Dreyfuss’ grown up Gordie LaChance ruminates on a final sentence to end his memoir. He provides a retroactive tribute to his friends. I’m sure that caused a few people to reach out to childhood friends, or at least nod affectionately.
But let’s be honest, the villains in the film are adults (some unseen, but strongly felt) and the scary teenagers hell-bent on destroying adult rules and childhood innocence alike. If you’ve made it to a place where you reminisce, “What better friends have I had than those when I was 12?” you’ve already made it through the gauntlet. The empathy that the film gives is a gift for the 12-year-old viewers who need the support, not their parents.
When you’re twelve, you already know that your friends are the best. But you can use a reminder — that they are there, and that you matter too.
