Ahead of the 40th anniversary of Stand By Me, Alec Joyner takes up Rob Reiner’s classic film and considers it from a few dozen angles. It’s a canny piece of critical writing on time, memory, masculinity, and tenderness, forces that often work against each other. (Joyner doesn’t raise the subject of Reiner’s violent death last year, though he pauses briefly on Chris, a character “freakishly knifed to death . . . trying to break up a fight.”) Stand By Me‘s two days of summer are a “vital pause” in the life of its characters, a “portal . . . into the expanse of time.” Here, Joyner illuminates that pause, and captures some of its elusive grace.

Stand by Me was slapped with an R rating, for the boys’ profanity, as well as the prominence of child abuse and death. This may have hampered ticket sales, but it also made it the first R-rated movie that many ’80s and ’90s kids saw. It made it a fitting rite of passage.

Still, there’s something lamentable in the verdict, the MPAA telling a faulty story much like the fictional adults of Castle Rock. How many blockbusters have promoted horrendous violence, only to make the PG-13 grade because they feel safely unreal? Stand by Me was received as dangerous because its horrors and its dirt live at home.

First off: This isn’t a Rick Moranis profile. I know you want it to be—we all want it to be—but it’s not. Maybe one day we’ll get the deep, rich look at a man who’s beloved by millions of comedy fans but who also stepped out of the public eye more than 30 years ago. Until then, there’s the fact that Moranis will be part of next year’s Spaceballs sequel, and as such was game enough to show up at San Diego Comic-Con over the weekend (where, predictably, Hall H chaos ensued). Anthony Breznican was there, shadowing the proceedings. Read it at ludicrous speed, obviously.

Even in this holding area, Moranis is already getting a sense of the excitement building around him. Among the first people to have their socks knocked off is Clerks and Mallrats filmmaker Kevin Smith, the moderator of the presentation and a Comic-Con stalwart for decades. “I came for the panel because of Rick Moranis,” he tells me, invoking the name of the actor’s beer-swilling duo with Dave Thomas from their SCTV days. “Jay and Silent Bob doesn’t exist without Bob and Doug McKenzie. Having him at Comic-Con is like having geek royalty here. You’re talking about a dude who, for most of us, was there as we grew up. He was part of the fabric of the culture since we were kids.”