I’m the first to admit openly that I cry at movies. I’m not afraid to admit having shed my share of tears at films that were moving to me in some way or another, but I know I’m an anomaly of sorts. Unlike most guys I know, I’ve always been into film. See, most guys don’t have this extensive knowledge of films or this worldly knowledge of the movies of a particular director or whatever. Well, ok, maybe a little bit when you start talking Scorcese or Coppola.
But how many of these grown men start bawling watching the same movie every time it comes on? I have a theory about the movie Rudy (1993) starring Sean Astin, Ned Beatty, and Charles S. Dutton. I’m not alone in this soul-searching, tear-soaked situation as evidenced by dozens of hits in Google for otherwise normal, grown men talking about how a movie “makes me cry every time I watch it”. No movie has ever hit me the way Rudy does, and I really can’t quite put my finger on it. Is it the feeling of triumph of the will over the obstacles of life? Is it the joy of seeing Rudy’s own teammates walking into the coach’s office to ask for Rudy to dress in their place? Is it the thrill of seeing Rudy’s family and close friends in the stands at the one game where he gets to dress out? Is it watching Rudy carried out by his teammates from that stadium?
It’s probably a combination of all of these things, but don’t let that movie come on cable unless you want to see your man watered down to a shard of his former self, bawling like he just took a belt across the ass from his father for breaking some priceless family heirloom.
Perhaps it is only because I share this same affliction with so many other men that I feel okay about telling you about it. Maybe you’ve never seen the movie Rudy and, if you haven’t, I’ve already ruined some of the good stuff for you. But then again, the good stuff is really just the bare essence of what any of us would consider the basis of a life worth writing about.
I’ve gotta go, I’m still sitting here crying. Damn you, HBO.
