You may remember last week, when I confessed how grossed out I am by on-screen needles. Your responses to that post were awesome, though K’s description of a syringe hanging out of someone’s arm still makes me shudder. (Ewwww!)
That discussion got me thinking about things I enjoy seeing on screen… techniques or images or story points that move or delight me. And then on Friday I saw Dear Zachary: A Letter to a Son About His Father. Â It’s a 2008Â documentary that uses two of my biggest triggers, and therefore had me crying so hard and for such a long time that my stomach hurt.
Well, it’s not only the triggers that set me off. The story itself is powerful, but by presenting it the way he did, filmmaker Kurt Kuenne turned me into a big sobbing mess. But in a good way. It was definitely a good cry.Â
More about that—and my two big triggers—after the jump. Then I want to know what moves you on screen!
Dear Zachary is Kuenne’s tribute to his childhood friend Andrew Bagby, who was murdered by his girlfriend in 2003. When he died, Andrew didn’t know she was pregnant with his child, and a few months later, Zachary was born. To keep his friend alive for the child, Kuenne went around the world interviewing people who knew him. Kuenne’s goal was to create a video scrapbook that might somehow introduce Zachary to his father.
Things got complicated, but if you don’t know the story, I won’t spoil it for you. Suffice it to say that I was not prepared for what happened, and I’m glad I wasn’t. The movie was much more gripping because the facts kept surprising me.
Even before the twists, however, Kuenne had me in tears. Here are the reasons why:
(1) He kept showing footage of Andrew when he was alive and happy —Â Whether I’m watching a documentary or a fictional film, moving images of a dead person (or character) fill me with a bittersweet emotion that I’m not sure how to name. I feel an intense sadness for the person on screen, especially when he’s happy, because I know his capacity to feel joy has ended. I also feel hope that she was aware of her happiness while she felt it. And of course I feel a stabbing reminder of how short life is. I look at those moments and I pray that IÂ am savoring my own happiness while I can… before all that’s left of my life is a few flickering images on a screen. (Do you see why the third act of Our Town always makes me cry?)Â
In Dear Zachary, I see Andrew at various stages in his life, and I think about how the smiling person on screen didn’t know how things would end. Â That both saddens and relieves me. And again, I’m reminded that every cliche about seizing the day is wildly, urgently true.
I should add that this response makes it almost impossible for me to watch home movies of my grandparents. But sometimes I do watch them, because while they make me grieve, they also give me enormous comfort. I never have to worry that I’ll forget how my grandmother walked or how my grandfather talked, because it’s right there. They can always move in front of me, reminding me of everything about them I loved.
(2) Kuenne also shows lots of emotionally reserved peopled getting overcome by their feelings.Â
In the last post, BDanger mentioned an aversion to dad types crying. Funnily enough, that usually stirs me. When people who contain their feelings start letting them out, I’m floored because it strikes me that the feelings must be really powerful.
To me, it’s even more moving when the feelings get released just a little. Â When Kuenne is narrating his film, he sometimes gets choked up when he’s remembering something Andrew did, but he doesn’t stop his narration. I love that he left those emotional takes in the film, because it contrasts his powerful feelings with his realization that there’s a job to do. He doesn’t quit. He just marches forward. I find tha inspiring because sometimes life won’t let us stop for a full-on breakdown. Sometimes we need the courage to feel our emotions without shutting down our worlds. People who do that are brave.Â
I understand, of course, that not everyone who releases just a little bit of emotion is also facing a heroic challenge, and there are times when films depict this scenario so tackily that it doesn’t move me at all. But when it works… hoo-boy. I’m gone.
8 responses so far ↓
1 Sarah // Apr 6, 2009 at 3:01 pm
An offshoot of your trigger #2, perhaps, but the “trying-not-to-cry-chin quiver” will usually get me much more than any wailing ever will. Here’s a case in point from an otherwise non-sad and ridiculous movie…the scene in Independence Day when the first lady asks President Bill Pullman to take the daughter out of the hospital room. Her face just kills me!
2 Sicsister85 // Apr 6, 2009 at 3:52 pm
I watched Dear Zachary while at work a few months ago. It was a mistake. I had tears streaming down my face most of that afternoon. Not until I read this did I realize why I was so affected. Sure, sad story, but I had read the reviews and looked over every bit of the website. You’ve identified for me the the aspects that cause a knot to form just thinking back to the film.
Especially Trigger 2. I don’t have specific memories of my Dad actually crying, but I can name at least 5 off the top of my head when I have watched him choke back emotion and get all glassy-eyed. Strong men trying to hold off emotion is much more poignant that any weeping I have ever witnessed.
3 Angie // Apr 6, 2009 at 5:04 pm
I saw that documentary on Sars’s recommendation and it wiped the floor with me. I’ve never felt like a movie kicked me in the gut before that.
4 Lynne // Apr 6, 2009 at 11:14 pm
Thinking of Independence Day reminds me of the scene where Bill Pullman as president addresses all the pilots before they take off to fight the aliens in the sky. His speech is so stirring and at one point, his voice rises to another, more powerful level and the men seem to receive a charge of adrenaline just listening to him when he says “We shall not go quietly into the night”. It always makes the hair on my arm stand on end. I love those empowering impromptu type comments meant to revive whatever ragtag army or group of people is left to battle whatever giant or alien is around the corner. Here’s another one: In Alien, when Michael Bien’s character says to two of the soldiers about to go on alien recon…”Stay frosty”.
I call these ‘Bill Pullmans’. The Alien one is just a mini-Pullman.
5 Karen // Apr 7, 2009 at 9:37 am
My husband and I watched Dear Zachary not knowing what was going to happen either. I looked over at him and we were both sitting on the couch, tears streaming down our faces, and we both looked down at our then 2-month old daughter sleeping in my lap and cried even harder.
Andrew’s parents in that film just break my heart.
6 Michael // Apr 7, 2009 at 10:02 am
I am a total pushover for scenes of reconciliation, especially when kindness answers cruelty and the whole relationship changes. I’m thinking about this more in terms of theater than film–the big moment where the statue moves in Winter’s Tale, the moment when the Countess forgives the Count in the Marriage of Figaro, where the son forgives the father who ruined his life in Life is a Dream. I can hardly talk about these moments without crying.
7 K. // Apr 8, 2009 at 8:18 pm
@Sarah: my brother and I always make fun of our mom for crying at that scene in Independence Day because … Independence Day, and she’s like, “Well, the mom does DIE, after all” and then we feel like assholes.
I love to see laughing. Like the scene in Rachel Getting Married where Rachel and her sister are recalling Rachel’s Brian Boitano fantasy and just cracking up. I love seeing people relaxed and laughing, not at anyone’s expense, not because of some banana peel schtick, but just expressing joy.
I said I can’t stand seeing kids in danger, but I love seeing happy kids. If a toddler is being chased around by his parent/grandparent/auntie and both are grinning, my heart is warmed. (I don’t even have kids.)
Along the same lines as Michael, I tend to cry at genuine, heartfelt apologies, especially if the apologizing person doesn’t expect forgiveness. It’s rare in the era of “I’m sorry you feel that way” to hear a genuine expression of remorse. I think one of the hardest things to do is to admit you fucked up, so when I see someone reach deep down and do that, I’m always moved.
8 Lynne // Apr 13, 2009 at 12:58 pm
Here’s one I thought while watching ‘Little Miss Sunshine’. I like stories that show how a family can become reacquainted by spending a lot of time together. Yay, road trip! (Alone road trips are great too – does anyone know any good alone ones? Mark, there’s an idea…’Best or funniest road trip movies’. I know there must be more than just a few, but all I can think of is the Chevy Chase’s ‘Vacation’ and the recent old man motorcycle movie.
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