Rewatching John Carpenter's Starman (1984) in full for the first time in decades reminded me of the odd, small cycle in American science fiction of its decade with their almost folkloric exploration of passing for human—learning what it is to be human, which is never required to mean replicating it perfectly. Jeff Bridges as the Starman retains his slight, birdlike glitches of movement and artifically accurate cadences to the last. His eidetic mimicry of television fills in for the cultural tics and expectations he has not yet worked out the rules of, but whose pattern he can reproduce well enough for normal social weirdness. It took me well into adulthood to understand the humor of the scene in Splash (1984) in which Madison is initially upset by a shootout in an episode of Bonanza because that extra-diegetic awareness of acting which a slightly nonplussed Allen explains to her was exactly how I learned to separate my own emotional reactions from fictional images that similarly disturbed me. The Brother from Another Planet (1984) and The Hidden (1987) would be the other titles that come to mind; I may be overlooking others, but the superficial appearance of Earth-humanity is a necessary criterion. Of course they are immigration stories, too, or so many of our heroes wouldn't have an inimical government on their tails. Madison and the Brother even make their respective landfalls at Ellis Island. I would love to be able to interpret this strain as a rebuttal to the paranoia of so much of the previous generation's science fiction where the federal government, fueled by the Cold War and the Red and Lavender Scares, was fully justified in blowing the aliens away, but I might need a larger sample set. I can at least track that the nonhuman characters under discussion are just trying to get on with their own lives, whose cosmically personal stakes are love or freedom or knowledge. "I make maps," the Starman explains himself. They feel more like Zenna Henderson's People stories than even something like The Man Who Fell to Earth (1976). I saw three of them as a small child. It was a useful additional reinforcement of the different ways to be a person.