1987, dir. Emile Ardolino. Baby Houseman’s daddy issues lack subtlety in this coming-of-age ode to midcentury summers in the mountains, the “procedure” plot is rickety, the lost-world thing is as overcooked as a resort’s steaks. Doesn’t matter. Baby and her family were a crucial part of both the Jewish-American story and the American one. After her, it became a lot more difficult to put an entire half of the population in the corner: a conclusion as corny as the movie, and as true.