Image via Complex Original
There’s a common question bouncing around the minds of casual viewers who’ve seen the trailers and commercials for Super 8, the new sci-fi flick from super-producer/writer/director J.J. Abrams: “That looks pretty cool, but what the hell is it about?” And since the first teaser trailer premiered late last year, we’ve been wondering the same thing. All that’s been known about the film in the months leading up to its release is that it’s about some kids who discover a malevolent force while making a horror movie on a cheap Super 8 camera. Oh, and that it’s directly inspired by Steven Spielberg's (who’s on board as a producer) old sci-fi flicks from the late 1970s and early ’80s.
But that’s it, really. Is there a giant alien in Super 8? A biological threat? E.T. gone mental? With his trademark penchant for secretive productions, Abrams has somehow managed to deliver a summer tentpole that’s avoided spoilers, leaked photos from the set, a trailer that gives away the whole movie, and cast members blabbing too much in interviews—meaning, everything we’re used to from mainstream Hollywood pics.
This isn’t the first time that Abrams, along with his Bad Robot production company, has pulled the okie-doke on us. In January 2008, Cloverfield, which he produced, fascinated audiences enough with its unknown plot points and creature design to become a box office smash. And then there’s the groundbreaking ABC show Lost, co-created by Abrams to confound viewers six long, uninformative years.
When asked about his secretive ways during interviews, Abrams plays it cool, saying that it’s all part of his intent to conceal spoilers for the audience’s sake—we’re not buying that. It’s difficult to accept that anyone in Hollywood can bypass the Internet’s anything-goes recklessness when it comes to divulging info, so we’ve cooked up a few conspiracy theories on how J.J. Abrams keeps his secrets.
He's Fine-Tuned In The Dark Arts
He’s fine-tuned in the dark arts.
At a TED conference in 2007, Abrams gave a long-winded lecture dissecting his creative process and basically geeking out for an extended period of time. As informative, though also occasionally tedious and repetitive, as the talk was, one section in particular stands out as being indicative of the guy’s secretive approach to marketing. Not to mention, it also hinted at some pretty strange shit going on in his Bad Robot offices.
Abrams went on and on about a “mystery box,” a literal box with the word “mystery” written on it that, according to Abrams, can be found in his primary workplace and traces back to his days of child wonderment. Within the lecture, the excitable Abrams drew parallels between said box and the enigmatic nature of his film and TV properties, namely Lost.
Our theory: After Abrams finishes writing a script or approving one, he watches the Harry Potter movie of his choice, puts on a wizard’s cloak, casts a “Spell of Anonymity” on the script, and then drops the stapled pages into the “mystery box,” in which the pages are reviewed by unseen black magic forces. Inside the “mystery box” currently lies the proper, satisfying ending to Lost; you know, the one where they actually explain shit.
Steven Spielberg Threatened To Bring Aliens Back To "Indiana Jones"
In Super 8’s case, Steven Spielberg threatened to bring the aliens back for another Indiana Jones movie.
The mysteries surrounding Super 8 aren’t only being kept for Abrams’ benefit—there’s also a great deal at stake for Steven Spielberg, the film’s outspoken and highly supportive producer. The iconic filmmaker/entrepreneur has been involved with Super 8 every step of the way, and it’s no secret that Abrams’ script and visual style for the flick were directly inspired by Sir Spielberg’s older sci-fi classics E.T.: The Extra-Terrestrial and Close Encounters Of The Third Kind.
So, naturally, Spielberg would be one pissed-off multibillionaire if some disrespectful bloggers leaked the identity of Super 8’s creature, or script specifics. It’d be a level of contempt akin to the film writing community’s collective scorn toward Spielberg’s last directorial effort, 2008’s pointless sequel Indiana Jones And The Kingdom Of The Crystal Skull, which ridiculously introduced some lazily rendered CGI aliens into the already weak film’s final act.
To keep bloggers obedient around the tactically shrouded Super 8, all Spielberg needed to do was send a private email CCing every film site known to man saying that he’d use those deservedly reviled aliens—more the product of Indy producer George Lucas, unsurprisingly—to degrade Harrison Ford’s legacy some more. Don’t be surprised if Spielberg produces all of Abrams’ top-secret projects from here on out, for that reason alone.
He Sold His Soul To The Devil After "Gone Fishin'"
He sold his soul to the devil after co-writing Gone Fishin’.
The year was 1997; J.J. Abrams, still trying to carve a niche in Hollywood, was looked at as a purveyor of schmaltzy, mediocre dramas after writing the heavy-handed tearjerkers Regarding Henry (starring Harrison Ford) and Forever Young (led by Mel Gibson). Hoping to rework his image, the young writer/producer took a shot at comedy by co-authoring Gone Fishin’, a Grumpy Old Men-esque romp with Joe Pesci and Danny Glover as two New Jersey pals who get into all kinds of mischief once their fishing boat gets jacked.
Yes, J.J. Abrams was responsible for Gone Fishin’, a movie so unfunny and witless that it made Pesci’s other miserable 1997 failure 8 Heads In A Duffel Bag look like his best career move since Raging Bull. The film bombed, to no one’s surprise; Abrams, one would imagine, took a long, hard look in his bathroom’s mirror, perhaps saying “Candyman” three times in the process, to which the C-man’s boss, Lucifer himself, appeared. “One day, J.J., you’re going to make kick-ass TV shows and movies, and people will forget about your brain-fart known as Gone Fishin’,” Beelzebub probably said. “But, in order for that to happen, you’re going to need my help. After all, a piece of shit like Gone Fishin’ isn’t going to wipe itself off of the public’s subconscious.”
Abrams, who’s no dummy, obliged, and a year later his screenplay for Michael Bay’s Armageddon led to a $200 million domestic smash. And the rest, as they say, is history. Somewhere in New Jersey, Joe Pesci is still chanting “Candyman” in his own bathroom’s mirror.
He Forces Ball Gags Onto Interviewers And Bloggers
Instead of gag orders, he forces ball gags onto interviewers and bloggers.
J.J. Abrams seems like a nice enough guy. In interviews, he’s friendly, smiles a lot, and discusses story details and production anecdotes with the awkward shyness of an insecure little kid, which is endearing—better that than the smugness of, say, James Cameron. But can anyone with Abrams’ industry clout and success rate really be that kind? The skeptic in us says, “Fuck no”; we’re thinking the modern-day Spielberg is a bit more intimidating than he lets on.
When judges want criminals or lawyers to keep their mouths shut about cases, they issue “gag orders,” suppression orders that are commonplace in Hollywood, as well, though they’re often referred to as “embargoes” when given to the press. So what if—early on in his career, back when he was relatively unknown and able to build his own reputation—nice guy Abrams took the whole gag thing one step further and tied ball gags around interviewers’ traps, followed by a threat: “Don’t like how this feels? It’ll be much worse if you spoil my movie.”
Remember, this is the same dude who created the hit CIA show Alias, which featured many similar tactics; either he’s one hell of a researcher or he’s tried out a few forceful coercion maneuvers of his own.
The Infamous "Smoke Monster" Is Actually On His Payroll
The infamous “Smoke Monster” is actually on his payroll.
One of the crazier ideas on Lost—which, of course, Abrams co-created—was the inscrutable antagonist known simply as the “smoke monster.” At any given moment during any episode, Ol’ Smokey could whip through a scene, toss characters into trees and through the air, and raise the ABC hit’s body count. We won’t get into specifics about who (or what) the smoke monster actually was, but it’s important to know that its primary objective was to act as a security system of sorts, protecting the island from those who wanted to exit and expose its secrets.
Sounds like something our boy Abrams could use to his advantage in real life, huh? We haven’t heard about any overly talkative film writers dying via mini tornadoes recently, but who’s to say that the real Smokey isn’t more concerned with fear mongering than homicide? Just as some ballsy blogger is about to upload exclusive images of the Cloverfield monster, or Super 8’s beastie, the huge gust of black smoke crashes through the writer’s window, knocks the Star Wars posters off his wall, and sends his computer hurdling through the air.
Or, Ol’ Smokey confiscates the desktop, takes it back to his tropical island lair, and watches all of the free porn. Shit, that’s what we’d do, at least.
His Lawsuit Game Is No Joke
His lawsuit game is no joke.
The most realistic theory is rooted in the almighty dollar: Abrams and his backers simply threaten writers, bloggers, actors, and overzealous studio luminaries with legal action if any of his projects’ secrets get out too early. This goes back to our earlier point about his seeming too nice, when we’re pretty sure that he and his immense Hollywood muscle would crush disrespectful underlings like the Cloverfield creature did to Manhattan; only, Abrams would do it with his legal team and stacked finances, not building-sized arms and an aggravated disposition that’d leave Godzilla shook.
If you think about it, Abrams’ incredible secret-keeping skills were first made clear in the summer of 2008, when the first, random Cloverfield teaser played before showings of Transformers. Prior to the opening day of Michael Bay’s robot smackdown, there’d been no word at all about Cloverfield on any blogs or in any trades. That would’ve been the perfect time for Abrams to show off his legal intimidation gifts.
How else do you think the look and identity of the film’s monster (pictured above) was kept unknown until the flick’s release, a feat that’s still mind-boggling in its execution? Kind of like how we still don’t know what Super 8’s beast looks like three days before its theatrical debut. In an age when all it takes is the click of a mouse to see what hotties like Blake Lively are packing underneath their lingerie, Abrams’ ability to keep info close to his chest is pretty astounding.
