How ‘Back to the Future’ Changed My Density
The Scoop features personal essays on movie-related topics.
The first time I saw Back to the Future, I was in elementary school. I can still picture the scenes on our tiny TV in the dining room (we weren’t rich enough to have two television sets), as Dad pre-explained certain plot points so I wouldn’t be too nervous. I went to school the next day and excitedly told my teacher about this great movie I had just watched. I exclaimed with glee how funny it was that Marty’s mom was crushing on her own son, not knowing it was her son.
“Ew,” my teacher said, twisting her face into a look of disgust and averting her eyes, as if she was ashamed to even look at me. She shook her head. “Ew.”
That reaction was enough to shut me down. I still thought it was funny, but apparently no one else did. I reluctantly shrank away from the film, and it gradually became a speck in my memory.
Hop in our DeLorean and speed 88 MPH to my high school years. I’m an awkward 15 year old, struggling to connect with people. The kids who used to be nice when we were younger were suddenly… not so nice. And frankly, neither were most of the teachers. I didn’t feel there was a lot going for me.
But, as Marty McFly would say, “history [was] gonna change.”
A match made in spacetime
One day, I was sitting in our town’s theater, watching a variety show put on by some local entertainers. A group of women came on stage and performed a version of “Johnny B. Goode”.
Hey, I know that song! I thought. That’s from Back to the Future. Huh, it’s been a while since I’ve seen that, but I really liked it. I should revisit it.
I checked it out from the library and watched it the next day.
The experience was like—pardon the expression—a bolt of lightning. What is this? I thought. You mean I actually live in a world where this exists? How did I let it slip away from me all those years ago?
I don’t know exactly what it was that first grabbed me. Maybe it was the idea that Marty didn’t seem like he had a ton of friends, but he was still a cool guy. I often felt invisible and alone in high school, but if Marty wasn’t the most popular kid either, maybe that meant I was secretly cool too—that there was hope for me. Or maybe I liked it because it was, objectively speaking, just a really good movie. I’m sure the fact that Michael J. Fox was the cutest thing I had ever seen also had something to do with it.
In any case, I latched onto this work of art and didn’t let go. I spent many afternoons rewatching it after doing my homework (and sometimes even before… but don’t tell my mom). The film was a motor, propelling me forward in life simply through its presence. Considering how often I used it as an escape, it’s ironic that it made me feel more connected to the rest of the world, more alive. It may have been a science fiction story, but it was still so real, so human. I rooted for George and Lorraine, I held my breath during the epic clock tower sequence, I cried with Marty when the (seemingly) unthinkable happened. I didn’t need anyone else: Back to the Future was a conduit—my way of accessing the world without having to leave my living room. It was incredibly freeing.
Lightning somehow strikes twice
Speed forward (or are we going back?) 88 MPH to 2021, when I did a college semester in New York. I had recently healed from an illness that nearly took my life, which also came with some crushing repercussions mental-health wise. I was still awkward, still introverted, and not helping matters was the fact that I had attended school online for the last year and a half, with virtually no contact with other people. So while the idea of being all alone in the big city was exciting, it was also pretty overwhelming. Although my parents encouraged me that this big step was an accomplishment on its own, I felt I had no direction and was starting all over again. Any minute, I expected someone to say to me, “Get out of here, kid! You’ve got no future!”
Thankfully, I was armed with the only two things I really needed: My Back to the Future DVD and my Marty McFly costume.
Although I had long considered the movie itself to be my best friend (is that weird?), another bolt of lightning struck me that semester: I began using it to connect with my peers. I showed it to my roommate who’d never seen it before, which helped break the ice. (She didn’t like it as much, on the grounds that she’d seen too many references to the film to fully enjoy the source material, but we still became friends.) When Halloween came, I donned my Marty McFly costume and wore it to a school club. (I won first place in the costume contest!) Yes, I still had solo dates with the movie, drank out of my Back to the Future mug, and ran around the city in my Marty outfit. But I began bonding with others, too.
I also began taking to heart certain lines and their meanings, especially Doc’s famous quote (even though we never actually hear him say it in the film): “If you put your mind to it, you can accomplish anything.” His words were the fuel I needed to once again move forward. I became more engaged with reality, and started getting excited about doing something with my life.
Mr. Sandman brings me a dream
It would take ages to fully explain what Back to the Future means to me. All I can say is that ten years after that first official viewing, the film (and the Broadway musical, but that’s another story) has continued to be a balm and an inspiration. It’s continued to spur me on during difficult times, and help me find connection with other folks. When I need it most, it jolts me to life again and reminds me of the big, wonderful world that’s out there—and that I shouldn’t be afraid of it.
Back to the Future is a favorite for so many people. It’s become its own universe, its own culture, that I’m proud to be a part of. It’s the joy of sharing smiles with strangers dressed as Doc at special screenings. It’s handing out Save the Clock Tower fliers and swapping time travel theories with newfound friends. It’s about reveling in the nostalgia of the first time we ever saw it. It’s magic. And the magic continues, 40 years after its release.
For a movie I love for so many reasons, it’s not actually difficult for me to choose a favorite part. It’s when Marty walks through Hill Valley in 1955 as “Mr. Sandman” by The Four Aces plays. He may be a little disoriented—a kid out of time—but I always feel like I’ve come home. We’ve arrived. The adventure begins.
“When I need it most, ‘Back to the Future’ jolts me to life and reminds me of the big, wonderful world that’s out there—and that I shouldn’t be afraid of it.”
It’s perhaps not a coincidence that “Mr. Sandman” is about being alone. I spent high school sitting alone in Link Crew, listening to Huey Lewis and Eric Clapton and Lindsey Buckingham. I spent it dancing by myself in our living room while “Night Train” played on the DVD’s special features menu.
But now, the movie serves as a reminder: The future is whatever you make it (that’s getting ahead in the franchise a bit, but the point still stands). So step out of your living room and into that future. Work toward your dreams. Forge new paths, and help those along the way as they become who they’re supposed to be.
I know it won’t be all hoverboards and self-lacing shoes. (Oops, getting ahead of myself again.) But fortunately, I also know I can get through anything… with a little help from a certain eccentric scientist, the coolest ‘80s teenager ever, and my puffy red vest.
So tell me, Doctor—where are we going this time?