[ONE WEEK ONLY, REVIVAL] I often wonder whether The Goonies
is held in as high esteem elsewhere as it is in the Northwest. For many Oregon natives, the 1985 film was a rite of passage—not only did the Astoria-based adventure flick’s scenery seem familiar, but we treated Goonies
as a pre-Internet personality test. I always saw myself as a Mikey-Chunk hybrid, a true-believer underdog type who inevitably gets the girl in the end, but also a great dancer with a fondness for ice cream and a giant mutant for a best friend. I’d suggest catching the film as it was meant to be seen: with a half-melted Baby Ruth bar in your pocket and a Cyndi Lauper song in your heart.