Rob Reiner’s Stand By Me is a movie I could write an entire book on. Its remarkable child performances, stunning craftsmanship, and mature blending of light and dark give it a unique universality, even amongst its coming-of-age brethren.
The death of filmmaker Rob Reiner and his wife Michelle, was truly devastating. Although he was underrated compared to his peers – perhaps due to the crowd-pleasing nature of his style – he leaves behind a legacy of diverse genres and rich creativity. This is Spinal Tap; The Princess Bride; When Harry Met Sally; Misery – all of them were his, and any one of them is career-defining in their own right. Reiner’s best film, 1986’s Stand By Me, seems to have only grown in entertainment and emotional stature over the past 40 years. Funny, charming, sage and forlorn, it’s one of the greatest coming-of-age pictures of all time.
©Columbia Pictures/Courtesy Everett Collection
Based on Stephen King’s novella The Body, the film is set in an Oregon town in 1959. Four 12-year-old boys, Gordie (Wil Wheaton), Chris (River Phoenix), Teddy (Corey Feldman) and Vern (Jerry O’Connell), are as close-knit as can be, their friendship defined by not-so-gentle teasing, and a collective innocence found only in youth. Starkness arrives like a speeding train when one of them learns about a dead body in the woods a few miles out of town, the body likely belonging to a missing kid.
Seeing a chance for glory, the boys plan a weekend hike to the woods. They’ll follow the train tracks until they reach the body, then call it in and reap the rewards. But each of the boys is harbouring their own strife – namely, Gordie. His older brother Denny, a star athlete and the family’s golden child, was killed in a car accident mere months ago. As such, this journey to “discover” the body becomes a life-changing event for the boys, one recounted in voice-over narration by an older Gordie (Richard Dreyfuss).
From the get-go, the child performances leave dazzling impressions. All four have had compelling careers, yet Stand By Me remains a singular high point. Individually, each kid breathes quirky, relatable life into their characters – all of whom vibrantly vary in personality. But together, this group creates a vivacious dynamic that feels blisteringly authentic, whether they’re talking around a fire, gleefully trading insults or dealing in raw vulnerabilities. If we’re splitting hairs, then River Phoenix, who sadly passed away at 23, is the strongest, given his uncanny ability to switch between rough-talking delinquent and emotionally intelligent peacemaker. However, all of them are among the best child performances in cinema, and the film becomes magic when they’re all on screen.
This is in part due to Reiner’s thoughtful direction and the tonal balancing act of Bruce A. Evans and Raynold Gideon’s script. Reiner encouraged improvisation from the child actors, and the film’s high-spirited nature came from the organic childishness of many of the interactions. Yet this never comes at the expense of the defined narrative and the inherent darkness of its conflicts. Evans’ and Gideon’s writing captures the jubilation and naivety of childhood, but juxtaposes this with the distressing realities the kids face as their quest chips away at their innocence.
©Columbia Pictures/Courtesy Everett Collection
Thomas Del Ruth’s cinematography and Robert Leighton’s editing are the film’s secret weapons. Close-ups are used extensively to exaggerate character actions or highlight the closeness of friendship. This adds to the authenticity and comedy – a conversation on what the cartoon Goofy is comes to mind. Yet these close-ups are surpassed by the wide shots, which emphasise the beauty and danger of the boys’ adventure. A wide shot of the train tracks highlights the length of the journey, with the characters emerging and singing on one side of the screen, only making it a quarter of the way before a cutaway. The characters feel they’re partaking in an epic quest, but the floodgates of reality are creaking open, broadening their worlds to terrifying new horizons.
Visually, the film’s beauty matches its colourful dynamics and dialogue. But the thematic darkness underscores the fervour with melancholy. Each child is coming into their own through the story, and our initial impressions of them gradually erode. Teddy’s militant ideas on masculinity are a defence mechanism against his father’s abuse as much as a reflection of his recklessness. Gordie has wells of imagination, but his grief over his brother reveals a cavernous loneliness and self-doubt, amplified by neglectful parents. Chris wears the image of delinquency like armour, but desires to break away from the label to prove himself as more than his infamous family name. Even Vern, who’s portrayed as the soft, slow one, carries a sincerity that most people lack – right down to his catchphrase “sincerely”.
Its aesthetic may be playful, but the sentiments are frighteningly mature. Loss, self-discovery, nostalgia, and the longing for understanding are just some of the film’s musings. Given the trajectory, framing and resolution of the story, honouring the dead is perhaps the most potent theme – a sentiment that takes on bittersweet dimensions following the passings of Reiner and Phoenix. When we first experience the harshness of the wider world, be it death or a change we can’t undo, there’s no going back – a cold, hard cruelty that the film is always conscious of. One scene shows the violent local bully Ace (Keifer Sutherland) stealing Gordie’s Yankees Cap, a gift from Denny. Gordie never gets that cap back – a small but harrowing detail that harkens to the deeper themes of death’s finality and the loss of innocence.
Joy, humour and earnestness may mask sadness and bleakness in this film. Still, it’s Reiner and team’s ability to navigate these difficult, nebulous emotions that make Stand By Me so transcendent. It’s ultimately about the rocky road from childhood to adulthood, and the symbolic mini-deaths that must occur for this growth to blossom. Yet it cherishes the friendships made and the happiness felt along the way. It honours life in the face of death, celebrates childhood, and acknowledges the need to let it go one day.
©Columbia Pictures/Courtesy Everett Collection
Writing this feature, I can’t help but think back to my own pre-teen friendships: Kieran, Daniel, Jack, Tony, and others whose faces I no longer recall. I don’t see any of them anymore, but I remember the laughs we used to share. The games, the mischievousness, the brutal honesty, even the fights over nothing – all of them fond memories impossible to relive. Stand By Me is, among other things, an ode to how fleeting but precious these moments are. Wherever my old childhood friends are, I wish them the best.
Ben E. King’s 1961 song, after which the film is named, concerns devoted friendship through hard times. It’s fitting that Reiner’s film adopted the title, for it champions the same core principle. Stand By Me is a movie I could write an entire book on. Its remarkable child performances, stunning craftsmanship, and mature blending of light and dark give it a unique universality, even amongst its coming-of-age brethren. Hilarious, crass, and deeply empathetic, it’s a spellbinding tribute to friendship and growing up, unmatched in its emotional resonance. It’s sensational, honest, humanist cinema – proof that Reiner deserves to be remembered alongside the cinematic giants of his time. No matter how old or jaded I may get, Stand By Me will endure, both as great art and as one of my all-time favourite films – sincerely.
Stand By Me is now showing in cinemas nationwide to celebrate its 40th Anniversary.
Follow Us