Cornfield Meet

Things collide here.

Lost Boy Lucas

Corey Haim was in 10 movies and two TV series between 1984 and 1989, so it’s not really surprising, I guess, that I have this vague recollection that he was everywhere when I was a teenager. (Which, as it happens, is also pretty much when he was a teenager, since he was born about 13 months after me.)

When I think about it, though, I really only have three Corey Haim movie memories, and one of those is the 1992 crapfest Blown Away, which I’m sure I’m extra-bitter toward because it came along during a horrible time in my life. (To digress a little: that same year, I was once dragged to see both Poison Ivy and Wind on the same day, despite not wanting to see either of them, so yeah, that’s just a tiny, tiny hint of what made ’92 an awfully suck-ass year. Anyway…)

So, the first Corey Haim movie I saw was Lucas, which I associate with HBO and our family’s first videocassette recorder, and I’m pretty sure that if I dug through the old plastic storage racks with the fake-wood fronts that my mom still has somewhere, I’d find a VHS tape with Lucas on it. I remember that Haim’s Lucas reminded me of a kid I had known when I was little, with his scientific mind and fascination with bugs, and I also remember that while the movie does end on a pretty inspiring note, it was fairly grim in spots for a “teen movie,” and it didn’t come to a life-altering, wildly-improbable everything’s-better-now close.

Then, of course, there was The Lost Boys, which I saw at a second-run one-dollar showing at the Canton Palace theatre with my then-girlfriend. Being a real theatre fitted with a movie screen rather than simply a cinema,  the Palace had the amazing effect of making mediocre movies seem great and good movies seem awesome. (See Exhibit A, Best Movie Experiences Ever, re: Ferris Bueller’s Day Off & Crocodile Dundee double feature.) I was really stoked about seeing The Lost Boys, and being there underneath the theater’s faux-starlit ceiling with the faint moving clouds projected on it, encircled by the towering half-walls and archways and false doors just made it that much more fun. (“My own brother, a goddamn, shit-sucking vampire. You wait ’till mom finds out.” That was Good Stuff, Maynard.)

And that’s it, as far as me and Corey Haim movies go. Still, those two were enough, apparently, because I always associated him with my teenage years in that ever-present background way, like Pat Benatar, Hill Street Blues and Pontiac Fieros. At the time, maybe I didn’t notice so much, but the weird thing is, even as I get older and realize how many pieces there are to that massive pop-culture backdrop in my memory, I think about it more when one goes missing.


March 11, 2010 - Posted by | 1980s, Current Affairs, eighties, Film, geek | , , , , ,

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