Roland Emmerich Began His Career By Trying To Be The German Spielberg

As showcased in apocalyptic spectacles like Independence Day, The Day After Tomorrow, and 2012, Roland Emmerich famously carved out an overblown, senses-assaulting style very much his own. But before making it big in the States, the German filmmaker had ambitions to ape two very different blockbuster auteurs.

Emmerich likely took it as a compliment rather than the insult it was intended as when critics back home responded to his second feature film, Joey, with the term “Spielbergle” (little Spielberg). The director had freely admitted that his goal was to kickstart a new wave of German cinema by replicating the success of Steven Spielberg and George Lucas’ popcorn fare, saying, “Entertaining the masses is the foundation, and that has been neglected here for a long time.”

Arriving a year after politically charged sci-fi The Noah’s Ark Principle, Emmerich’s English-language debut certainly didn’t try to hide his influences. From the Lucas camp, there’s a sentient R2-D2-esque robot named Charlie, enough Star Wars merchandise to fill a Toys “R” Us aisle, and a climactic battle sequence involving Darth Vader (presumably, Joey flew under the radar of licensing lawyers). From Spielberg, the telekinetic child plot borrows heavily from Poltergeist, the music was blatantly modeled on John Williams’ score for E.T., while the absence of a father figure leaned into the auteur’s penchant for broken families.

Released under the title Making Contact in the United States, Joey doesn’t waste any time putting its eponymous nine-year-old lead (Joshua Morrell) through the emotional wringer. The opening shot is at his dad’s funeral, and his first words are spoken during an imaginary (or is it?!) conversation with his pop via a glowing red telephone. Is this simply a coping mechanism from a youngster in the early stages of the grieving process? Or do his ESP abilities extend to communicating with the dead?

The film throws in another bonkers possibility when Joey stumbles across a ventriloquist’s doll in a neglected next-door property that looks eerily similar to the Bates’ home in Psycho. Upon springing to life, the sharp-suited, monocled figure named Fletcher claims he’s behind the beyond-the-grave chats, although his motive remains a mystery. Even an origin story handily played out on a black-and-white TV that reveals he was created by a 1920s magician who dealt in the dark arts fails to shed any light on the matter.

This aversion to rhyme or reason runs throughout the slim 79-minute knock-off (European viewers were “treated” to an additional 19 that somehow only made things even more incomprehensible). Emmerich seemed so preoccupied with Americanizing the story that he forgot to complete it. Plot points are introduced and then immediately cast aside, conversations appear to end mid-sentence, and there’s a whole host of non-sequiturs that defy logic. In perhaps the film’s most WTF scene, mom Laura (Eva Kryll) stops visiting schoolteacher Martin (Jan Zierold) from soothing his burned hand under the tap, and instead forces it into a nearby fish bowl.

This is a film where the world’s most preeminent scientists descend upon Joey’s family home on the basis of one vague phone call. Then there’s the fever dream of a finale in which Joey, his pigtailed best friend Sally (Tammy Shields), and his school tormentors are attacked in an underground maze by everything from gigantic hamburgers to sentient boulders.

Still, you have to admire Emmerich for his resourcefulness, if nothing else. Determined to make an Amblin-esque picture for a fraction of the price, he fixed up an abandoned factory to make his own effects studio. Although the floating anthropomorphic toys now look hilariously outdated, ‘80s Hollywood served up far worse.

To further cut costs, Emmerich also sourced most of Joey’s cast from an American military base, explaining why few have any other IMDb credits and why their acting is so decidedly amateurish. Only Kryll, who went on to have a long career, shows any natural talent as the mom who’s nearly knifed and runover by the malevolent doll, particularly when her initial delight at watching Joey’s trickery turns to despair.

Emmerich does get a few things right in his quest to beat Tinseltown at its own game. The bullying Joey receives for believing his father is still speaking to him nails the cruelty of kids, briefly lending the otherwise incoherent story an emotional depth Spielberg would be proud of. And Fletcher — voiced by one of the movie’s few experienced names, Hanna-Barbera regular Jack Angel — is a fun maniacal presence, from his dapper dress sense to his habit of vocalizing all the chaos with the exclamation “Blargh.”

The film even made money, allowing Emmerich to climb further up the industry ladder with the similarly corny B-movies Ghost Chase and Moon 44, before finally making the leap into Hollywood with 1992’s Stargate. There’s little here to reveal that he’d soon be competing with his heroes for the title of box office king, but we all have to start somewhere.

Joey, aka Making Contact, is available to stream on Roku.