Spielberg and Mathison also back into the synchronized emotions between boy and alien, approaching it as comedy first before attacking the tear ducts. It’s like the kid-movie equivalent of a night at the opera. It’s not until the sequence where ET lifts Elliott’s bike to the sky that the orchestration hits in full, and the effect is like a dam bursting, this transcendent moment when a supernatural event is tied to a huge emotional crescendo. The John Williams score is one of his most famous and soaring, but Spielberg treats it like the shark in Jaws, doling it out in bits and pieces before allowing the audience to experience the whole thing. Working at the height of his powers, Spielberg gives ET a sentimental pull that would feel more manipulative if he wasn’t so strategically withholding. As Elliott helps ET go home, he learns to accept a newly reconstituted version of what home means to him, too. The alien brings Elliott closer to his siblings, as they work together to shelter it and figure out what it needs, but they’re both trying to get back to their families. Though the film never says how long Elliott’s dad has been out of the house, it seems recent enough for everyone to feel unsettled by it. The squat, murmuring, doe-eyed being in ET is much more of a device, serving to illuminate the loneliness and stress of a latchkey kid who hasn’t settled into his new situation. Spielberg had already defied the expectation of a hostile alien invasion earlier with Close Encounters of the Third Kind, which expressed hope that such interspecies contact might bring out the best in humankind. A few of the most quotable lines: “Beeeeee good.” “ET phone home.” “Ouch.” “Stay.” Even the dialogue, though whimsical at times, puts a premium on directness.
Outside of the scary, faceless adults who eventually intervene, that’s all there is to it. Elliott and his siblings then shelter the alien and help it get back home again. Mathison’s script is a model of economy and clarity, pared down to serve a story that really has no big twists and turns: Elliott meets ET, an alien lost in the woods after his spaceship leaves without him. For that, Spielberg commissioned Melissa Mathison, who’d previously written The Black Stallion, another spare children’s drama about the connection between a little boy and an orphaned creature. The storybook simplicity of the film is key. Elliott grows up at a breathlessly accelerated rate. (Many adults fail to learn it.) Spielberg conceived a science-fiction fantasy where a boy literally feels what another being feels, and the bond between them is overwhelmingly powerful. They understand how events affect them, but empathy is a learned trait, part of the same slow developmental process that teaches them to walk and read and fend for themselves. A child of divorce himself, Spielberg is uniquely perceptive about how kids are sensitive, vulnerable, innocent creatures who feel the world intensely, but are also naturally solipsistic. And that’s why it’s been extracting tears from audiences so effectively for 40 years. Thinking about others is what ET is about.