My movie collection has reached an epic size. Tipping the scales at 1,001 DVDs (not to mention almost 200 LaserDiscs remaining after several purges) this week with my purchase of The Lost Boys from the used section at Tower, I realized that I really enjoy film partly because it is an incredible benchmark of the changes in my life.
I remember sneaking into Omaha's Cinema Center to see this in 1987. I also remember being genuinely terrified by the story, and, as I did after sneaking into other horror movies, needing my mother to come tuck me in at night if I wanted a prayer of falling asleep. My expectation when I watched it last night, was that I would be similarly scared, but able to deal with my fear in a more mature manner. I was a little shocked to find that the movie was still good, but what I remember as being "good" was very different. Instead of being scared, I found myself noticing the odd fashions, sculpted hairstyles, ridiculous dialogue and the overuse of Vaseline on the lens during the romantic scenes.
When I saw it the first time, I think I identified more with Cory Feldman's dirt-bike-riding, comic-book-peddling vampire hunter than I did in this viewing. I'm not sure I identify with any of the characters now, except maybe the mother, who seemed rather perplexed by all the fashions and strange events. I felt much more like a voyeur, looking back on a different time and alien place: A new experience, as satisfying as the first.