I'm Not Cryin'
FADE IN:
INT. - 2pm - A LIVING ROOM IN PORTLAND, OREGON
Three 20-somethings, NATHAN GALLANT, DOUG SHEFLIN, and JOSH CINELLI, enter the room and plop exhaustedly upon a dilapidated couch. Doug carries with him a basketball, and it is clear from the boys' sweat-stained clothing that they were very recently playing a game of pickup.
DOUG
(TO NO ONE IN PARTICULAR)
So hot.
Josh grabs a remote control from the cluttered coffee table and points it at the television. TBS' afternoon presentation of "Field of Dreams" flickers to life.
INSERT: SCENE FROM "FIELD OF DREAMS" - THE DAUGHTER OF KEVIN COSTNER'S CHARACTER HAS FALLEN OFF A RICKETY GRANDSTAND AND AS A RESULT IS CHOKING ON A HOT DOG. AN OLD-TIME BALLPLAYER RUNS TOWARDS HER, BUT STOPS JUST SHORT OF THE CHALK ALONG THE FIRST BASE LINE.
DISSOLVE TO:
SAME LIVING ROOM - 31 SECONDS LATER
The boys sit in apparent discomfort. While each continues to wipe sweat from his brow, a CLOSE UP OF THEIR EYES reveals that much of the wiping is actually of the corners of the eyes. Nathan sniffles audibly.
FADE OUT
THE END
True story.
An eerily-similar scene transpired years later in a [dilapidated] Providence, Rhode Island living room whilst watching "Big Fish" with Ingrid and, again, Doug. That particular time I was so embarrassed by my girlish blubbering that, by the time I noticed that my respective roomies were also waterworks (thereby officially making it OK to wipe), a veritable reservoir of sadness had accumulated in the little bowl at the base of my neck.
Dare I suggest that these are particularly difficult situations for guys?
Yes, dare I do.
Man etiquette dictates that (1) the stronger sex must hide any evidence of film-related bawling, especially from other men, and (2) a man must not purposely see any other man cry. This is why, invariably, there is an extraordinarily largely amount of airborne particulates in a room when a movie gets sad; moreover, sad parts prove a perfect time for the refilling of drinks and/or the checking of voicemail and/or remembering you have to get up early so you should head straight to bed without saying goodnight because you don't want to ruin the end and besides you just remembered you've seen this movie anyways.
If these options are not available (or if getting up from the couch would cause the pool of tears from your neck to soak through the top of your gray and therefore moisture-sensitive t-shirt), man etiquette decrees a Stare-Straight-Ahead-At-The-Television-Under-Any-And-All-Circumstances posture. In either the "Big Fish" or "Field of Dreams" scenario, Doug could have been on fire and I would not have noticed.
Uh oh. This post got all long on me.* I'll end it by imploring you, my faithful reader[s?], to respond to this post with your tales of lachrymose movie-going, or at least those films that proved to be a fountainhead of your shameful whimpering. And before you hesitate to do so for fear of ruining your street cred, I'll admit that I cried at the end of "The Iron Giant," so nothing you write could possibly trump that.
*That's what she said.
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3 comments:
Oh - I can trump that. I happened to catch The Notebook on TBS or something the other night. I was holding back tears - and I think at multiple parts, too. I was utterly horrified with myself. Doug was making fun of me. I think I didn't eat dinner and had too many beers - or wait, It's because I was thinking about a friend of mine who you don't know who is dying.
That's right, dying.
Nothing like the way Big Fish gets me, though - I sob every time.
I also cry at Charlotte's Web and sometimes at Grey's Anatomy (when I've had too many beers an not enough dinner).
thanks for outing me on that, nathan. what will my public think now?
the worst part of 'field of dreams' is costner asking his dad to play catch. grizzly adams would need kleenex at that point.
peeling onions works too.
Steel Magnolias gets me every Monday night when I'm at home watching it, like I do, every Monday.
That and "Little Women." Such a beautiful flick.
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