A Three Hankie Affair

I've seen a lot of tear-inducing movies of late. I don't know if it's my film selection or just me and my free-wheeling emotions.

Last week I "netflixed" (is this word, as a verb, entered into the OED yet? It should be) Eight Below. Wow, you know, I actually typed out 'Snow Dogs' first and then realized that I would never be caught dead renting that Cuba Gooding, Jr. movie. And don't get on me for watching Eight Below, either. It was a terrific film. I thought it would be Disney drivel when it was released in theaters over the winter, but when all the glowing reviews started coming in, I changed my mind and decided I wanted to see it, though I didn't deem it worthy of an $11 ticket at the theater. And you know what? I was wrong- I think I would have enjoyed it even more on the big screen since the cinematography of the Arctic landscape (they used Northwestern Canada to sub in for Antarctica) was so well shot.

Eight Below, while being very earnest, is also a tear-jerkey, especially for a dog/animal loving person such as myself. A powerful storm hits the area where a scientific tema is stationed and the have to be flown out of the region immediately. With no room on the plane for the sled dogs, they're left behind to fend for themselves for six months while Paul Walker tries like the dickens to convince someone to fly him back down there to rescue them.

After the first 45 minutes of setup and exposition, this movie quickly becomes a cry-a-thon. Now, I didn't start out anf out bawling, but there were at least 3-4 moments where my eyes started to well up with moisture. And the movie doesn't hammer it home incessantly, either. It's just a dramatic story, and one actually based on fact (from when a Japanese team was evacuated and some of their dogs managed to survive the winter until they returned). The dogs are constantly in peril while their owner is powerless to save them until the winter passes. This formula equals eye misting everytime, people.

Two weeks ago I attended an Onion-sponsored screening of The Iron Giant, the animated movie from 1999 that Brad Bird directed before The Incredibles. After that monster hit for Pixar, this gem of a forgotten, ignored movied started getting the recognition it deserved. I watched a horribly scratched print of it when I worked at Quincy Cinemas back in the summer of '99 when I worked there, and I always felt a little cheated. Getting to see it in the theater again, with a sold out, appreciative audience to boot, was a wonderful, fortunate experience. And even though I've seen it about 7 times now and showed it to all my students in Turkey last year, I still got choked up near the end. That's some powerful stuff right there. If you haven't seen it, or if, god forbid, you've never heard of this movie, get thee to a video store or put it high up in your queue soon. It's quick, clean, rich, and full of odd bits of humor at every unforeseen turn. It's about time The Iron Giant gets its due from the masses.

And lastly, my worst offense by far, has to be The Notebook, which I rented back in April. And no, I wasn't forced to watch it with a girl, either. On Nick and Emily's advice, I rented it of my own volition and watched it by myself at my apartment. See, I'm fessing up; this is full disclosure, people. I have no secrets to hide. I sat alone on my couch one night, watched The Notebook, and enjoyed the hell out of it. And I cried. More than once.

Ahhh, I feel like a great weight has been lifted. Again, this was one of those movies I'd never deign worth seeing in the theater, though I remember noticing how its box office receipts hardly decreased from week to week when it was out 2 or 3 summers ago. I'm a big fan of Gosling and McAdams, and the movie just worked, much aided by their undeniable chemistry and well, talent, too.

My only qualm was with the final 10 minutes. It just went overboard a little too far, nearly pushing it into Movie of the Week territory. And for me, the ending was too much of a downer. I know it's supposed to be romantic and bitter-sweet, but I just tasted the bitter part. They could have just ended the movie in the past and not gone back to the present-day happenings and I would have been far happier (because we all knew what was going on in the present day wouldn't have a happy endind- why show it in full, graphic detail like that after such a sweet finale in the flashbacks?).

Those are my 3 tear-inducing movies of 2006 so far.

It's funny how my 2 of my 3 worst tear-jerkers were Michael Keaton movies. Number one all time has to be the Gary Sinine/ John Malkovich version of Of Mice and Men. I watched that in 6th grade and bawled my eyes out for over an hour after it ended. I was a wreck.

Number 2 is My Life with Michael Keaton, where he plays a man who finds out he only has a few months to live. With a baby on the way, he videotapes himself so his son can watch the tapes one day and know who his father really was. I remember watching it in my den one hot summer afternoon, and Nick was home from college at the time. He walked in from doing some yard work and watched the last 15 minutes with me, and we both ended up reaching for the paper towels multiple times in the homestretch. And Nick hadn't even watched the first hour and a half! That movie slayed us.

And number 3 is Jack Frost. Not a movie I'd ever pay to see in the theater or rent, mind you- I watched it for free on an airplane. It was January of 2000- Mom, Nick, and I had just boarded our Alitalia flight headed for Rome, and we were all excited because this was our first trip ever outside the country. It was a red-eye flight, so after dinner had been served a lot of the passengers, my mom included, went to sleep, but Nick and I were so wired, we decided to watch Jack Frost, a movie we were utterly and completely apathetic to. Well, halfway into the movie, the both of us have tears streaming down our cheeks and we're trying our best to hold it in and save face. We were on an airpane for cryin' out loud. It was our first international trip. "Pull yourselves together!" we thought. But we couldn't. Not when the little kid was making a snowman all by himself in his front yard right after his Dad died.

And the ending, it really stuck it to us. There was no holding back at that point. We could only fight off the lumps in our throats for so long before we had to let it out. As Jack Frost ended and the credits began to roll, our Mom woke up beside us and was shocked awake by the sight of the two of us going on and crying like babies. She thought something terrible had happened. "What's wrong?!" she bellowed out. Nothing, Mom. It was just this damn movie, Jack Frost. Yeah, that got the better of both us that night.

Like I said, full disclosure. I have no secrets. I'm in touch with my emotions (maybe a bit too much at times) and you're all gonna just have to deal with it.