Back to the Future Trilogy by Brenton Powell
Brace yourselves, people. I’m about to talk at length about Back to the Future.
Definitely one of my very, very, very, very (that’s right; bold, underlined, and italicized for extra, extra, extra emphasis) favorite movie series when I was a kid. I must have put “hoverboard” on my Christmas list at least a few times until I realized they weren’t real (and then probably for another year after I found out they didn’t already exist because Santa’s magic anyway and he could probably have the accomplished elf scientists of the North Pole fabricate one, no problem).
I idolized Marty McFly. By now I sense there’s a clear pattern emerging in all of my childhood heroes. Ferris Bueller, Marty McFly, Han Solo, Zach Morris - all cocky assholes who know exactly how cool they are. Indiana Jones fits this role about half of the time but I still probably lump him into the more strong, solemn hero type. But McFly was just the coolest. Much like a Greek hero though, Marty actually gets punished for his hubris and we all learn a valuable lesson about humility, the end. About here is where I’m tempted to make an easy joke about being Asian and not seeing anything wrong with being called yellow (or Yellah! if it’s getting spat at you by Mad Dog Tannen) but instead I’ll refrain from my natural instinct to pun.
But gosh, how does one sum up what makes these movies so good? They’re fun, have a great sense of humor, and at the base of the movies are pretty tightly plotted and engaging. It’s also a movie that has a lot of great callbacks and plays well with its own mythology. But more than that, dude, how cool are hoverboards?! And those self-lacing shoes! Lord knows I hate laces. It’s always interesting to see how different people interpret what the future will bring.
The second movie was always my favorite partly because of the future section. It also played the most with time travel with the alternate 1985 and the brilliant sequence with the two Martys at the Enchantment Under The Sea Dance. Plus, Michael J. Fox plays his own daughter in it. You’ve got to respect a man comfortable enough with himself to rock tights and a skirt. Even when he’s playing a woman, MJF is the man.