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07-02-2015, 01:51 PM
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I once was invited to appear on a local noontime chat show of the CBS affiliate in Sioux Falls, SD. At the time, I was working as the entertainment critic at the local newspaper and, as such, had ruffled more than a few feathers by offering blunt opinions in print of the local performing arts scene, something no one apparently had ever done before.
Though she'd called to ask if I'd fill in for a guest who had canceled at the last minute, the host of this particular noontime show had an agenda and it involved me. Her first question out of the box: "Do you know that you're known in this town as Poison-Pen Fine?"
I mention this as preface to what will be a piece about crying at the movies: specifically, me crying at the movies.
Which seems to happen more frequently of late. A side-effect of aging? Perhaps that's just the way it works.
I don't automatically assign greater value to any film that chokes me up; that's an increasingly lower bar, while films that make me laugh hard face an increasingly higher one.
I am not embarrassed by the fact that I have this tendency more often of late. Not that I don't take grief about it from my grown sons.
First, let's stipulate that our family sense of humor is on the dark side, the signature move being the jaw-droppingly withering remark, followed by unison guffaws. We all give as good as we get and share in the hilarity. I believe I coined the line, "Do you know how I know that's funny? Because I'm laughing."
So I will admit that it was a mistake to mention to them that, as I watched it for review in 2005, there was a moment in (gulp) The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants when I got choked up. To be honest, I barely remember the film now, let alone what that moment might be. But I'm not going to disavow what obviously was a moment of genuine emotion that resonated in such a way that, however briefly, I was moved to tears, or nearly so.
My offspring, however, can be merciless, more because of the movie itself, than the fact that I cried. This may be their revenge for taking the whole family for a Christmas morning viewing of My Dog Skip.
This commentary continues on my website (http://hollywoodandfine.com/tears-tears-and-more-tears-on-crying-at-the-movies/). -- This feed and its contents are the property of The Huffington Post, and use is subject to our terms. (http://start.westnet.ca/newstempch.php?article=terms.html/) It may be used for personal consumption, but may not be distributed on a website.
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I once was invited to appear on a local noontime chat show of the CBS affiliate in Sioux Falls, SD. At the time, I was working as the entertainment critic at the local newspaper and, as such, had ruffled more than a few feathers by offering blunt opinions in print of the local performing arts scene, something no one apparently had ever done before.
Though she'd called to ask if I'd fill in for a guest who had canceled at the last minute, the host of this particular noontime show had an agenda and it involved me. Her first question out of the box: "Do you know that you're known in this town as Poison-Pen Fine?"
I mention this as preface to what will be a piece about crying at the movies: specifically, me crying at the movies.
Which seems to happen more frequently of late. A side-effect of aging? Perhaps that's just the way it works.
I don't automatically assign greater value to any film that chokes me up; that's an increasingly lower bar, while films that make me laugh hard face an increasingly higher one.
I am not embarrassed by the fact that I have this tendency more often of late. Not that I don't take grief about it from my grown sons.
First, let's stipulate that our family sense of humor is on the dark side, the signature move being the jaw-droppingly withering remark, followed by unison guffaws. We all give as good as we get and share in the hilarity. I believe I coined the line, "Do you know how I know that's funny? Because I'm laughing."
So I will admit that it was a mistake to mention to them that, as I watched it for review in 2005, there was a moment in (gulp) The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants when I got choked up. To be honest, I barely remember the film now, let alone what that moment might be. But I'm not going to disavow what obviously was a moment of genuine emotion that resonated in such a way that, however briefly, I was moved to tears, or nearly so.
My offspring, however, can be merciless, more because of the movie itself, than the fact that I cried. This may be their revenge for taking the whole family for a Christmas morning viewing of My Dog Skip.
This commentary continues on my website (http://hollywoodandfine.com/tears-tears-and-more-tears-on-crying-at-the-movies/). -- This feed and its contents are the property of The Huffington Post, and use is subject to our terms. (http://start.westnet.ca/newstempch.php?article=terms.html/) It may be used for personal consumption, but may not be distributed on a website.
http://rc.feedsportal.com/r/233194114030/u/0/f/677045/c/35496/s/47c6ed2f/sc/28/rc/1/rc.img (http://rc.feedsportal.com/r/233194114030/u/0/f/677045/c/35496/s/47c6ed2f/sc/28/rc/1/rc.htm)
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