What is your DEAL with The Lost Boys???, my wife inquires when she hears me shout "Fuck YES!" across the house when becoming aware that it will screen at the PFS Roxy at one of their BYO Wednesdays screenings. And, well, my deal — a longer way of just saying what it is, that The Lost Boys is the greatest summer film of all time — is this:
I love The Lost Boys for the way it's a mashup of teen/Vampire/divorce/avenging geek/L.A. Noir/punk/young-buddy-a-la-Stand-by-Me movies, and probably a few other genres besides. I love it for the way it's one of those movies that seems to be in constant conversation with other movies, even today, as its cast members populate sad network TV dramas on the off chance that they're working at all. I love Jami Gertz, I don't think I can really verbalize how I love Jami Gertz. I love the lo mein turning into worms, I love the maggot rice. I love Diane Weist falling for the gentleman in the Oliver Peoples glasses who will later become the paterfamilias of the Gilmore Girls. I love its soundtrack; I even love its sax. Oh god, here comes the sax:
So, yes, that is my deal with The Lost Boys. There is a good deal of it. My deal, that is. Deal with it.
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